12!
thank you SO MUCH. this is technically??? part of my modern au??? if you want extra context??? but it can also be stand-alone for sure!
Geralt had been asleep when Jaskier returned home. He was late, later than usual, and Geralt had missed the way he stumbled up the stairs in elation, rather than drink. Jaskier tried hard to be quiet, but he was constantly moving, constantly making noise, and he disrupted the silence so thoroughly that Geralt was already drifting awake when Jaskier made it into their bedroom.
Maybe he would have gone back to sleep, if Jaskier’s knee hadn’t thunked into the bed frame. Maybe if Jaskier hadn’t frozen, even holding his breath, to see if the motion had woken Geralt, he would have let Jaskier know he was awake. But after a moment of stillness, Jaskier seemed satisfied that he hadn’t bothered Geralt, and continued dressing for bed, then slipping into the covers.
Geralt thought that would be the end of it, and tried to let himself drift back to sleep, only to feel Jaskier’s fingers carding through his hair. His touch was light. Usually, when Jaskier touched Geralt’s hair, it was firmer than this. It was for Geralt’s benefit, to brush his hair, weave it into steadily more intricate braids, or to massage Geralt’s scalp. This touch was feather-light, more against Geralt’s face than his hair. This touch was for Jaskier.
It took everything in Geralt not to take the hand. He longed to press kisses against Jaskier’s palm, to pull him closer and kiss him breathless. To touch him without intent until Jaskier was making delighted noises against Geralt’s skin. It felt wrong, though, to interrupt Jaskier’s moment, so Geralt let him have this soft, quiet moment, and was rewarded a few moments later when Jaskier, apparently feeling emboldened, began to speak.
“I missed you tonight,” he whispered, and Geralt could almost picture his wistful look. Geralt had caught it a few times, when Jaskier didn’t know he was being watched. It was silly, it made Geralt ache, but he didn’t know how to tell Jaskier that he didn’t need to look so wanting anymore. He had Geralt. He would always have Geralt.
“I always miss you, though. When you’re not here,” Jaskier continued, amusement in his voice. “Isn’t that silly? How greedy can I be? I have you, all my days, every day, and still I want more.”
His fingers trailed down to Geralt’s jaw, just barely brushing along his stubble.
“I still can’t believe this is real. That you’re in my bed. That I can touch you like this, even when you’re awake. I’ve written you so many songs, tried so many ways to capture the way you make me feel. And still, my words come up short.”
His hand pulled away, but Jaskier drew closer. They didn’t touch, but they were close enough that Geralt could feel the warmth from Jaskier’s body. He could feel Jaskier’s fingers just barely brushing his chest. Jaskier’s breath was warm on his face.
“I don’t say it much, but I know you hear it every time I almost do. I love you. And I think you love me, too. Even if you don’t say it. Because I can wait. It doesn’t feel like waiting; not with you.” send me a number & i’ll write you a geraskier drabble?
