Hello my love! Can I request #44 "Washing their hair for them when they can't." for Geraskier please? Wishing you lots of fun on your camping trip <3
Thank you so much for the prompt, dear heart!! Have 1.8k of Jaskier getting a bath and a nap <3
Edit: Also on AO3!
~~~
Jaskier only did it because Ciri was in danger.
Contrary to popular belief, he did have some sense of self-preservation. This sense had been especially honed by the events of the past year or so. He cared about himself, particularly his hands, and under normal circumstances he would never have put them at risk like this.
But Ciri had been in danger, and so Jaskier didn’t even hesitate.
The soldiers of Nilfgaard were on their heels. Geralt was getting desperate. Jaskier had a low-quality, newly-acquired lute and a strong voice. His hands, though still injured, were more than mobile enough to provide the distraction they so badly needed.
He played. He played and he sang and he danced around all the available space, and the soldiers of Nilfgaard watched him like the Pied Sandpiper he was.
They got out. Ciri and Yennefer and Geralt all snuck past the lines and into the safety of the next town, where the soldiers had already come and gone. Jaskier took somewhat longer to make his escape; unsure whether the others were safe it yet, he played for a long while, and when he did try to take his leave, the soldiers insisted he stay for an encore. He hid his bleeding fingers behind a falsely bright smile and obliged. By the time he finally managed to join the (anxiously waiting) others at the small inn, he was just about ready to collapse.
“You look like the back end of a middle-aged camel” was the first thing out of Yennefer’s mouth when she saw him. Jaskier could see the anxiety hidden behind the facade of disdain, so he couldn’t even muster the energy to be offended.
“Can’t really bathe like this,” he said dryly, showing her his cracked and bleeding fingers.
To Jaskier’s great surprise, Geralt spoke up.
“Yes, you can,” he said. “I’ll help you.”
Which was how Jaskier found himself here.
He and Geralt were alone in the inn room they had managed to rent, while Ciri and Yennefer looked for supplies in the town. Geralt had ignored all of Jaskier’s protests and paid for a full bath of hot water. Jaskier had been gently but firmly maneuvered into doffing his shirt and doublet, washing his hands and arms, then allowing Geralt to apply salve to and bandage his hands. Now Jaskier was sitting in the still-warm water as Geralt rooted around in their bags. He had to reluctantly concede that it was comfortable; as his muscles slowly relaxed and the day’s adrenaline drained away, he found himself almost asleep in the bath.
Geralt made a satisfied sound from across the room. Jaskier lifted his head a little to look at him. Geralt returned to the tub with a bar of soap — where did he get soap? — and a small, strangely familiar-looking bottle.
“Geralt,” said Jaskier, his sleepiness momentarily forgotten, “Is that my hair oil?”
“Hmm,” Geralt said. He seemed almost embarrassed. “Yeah.”
Jaskier looked at the bottle. He looked up at Geralt. Geralt gave a nervous-looking little grimace.
“Geralt. Why the fuck do you have my favorite kind of hair oil?”
Jaskier himself hadn’t owned any for months — not since he started working as the Sandpiper in earnest. It couldn’t have been easy for Geralt to find this. Why the fuck did he go to the trouble?
Geralt mumbled something that Jaskier couldn’t make out.
“What?”
“I missed it.”
“What?”
Geralt looked closer to sheepishness than Jaskier had ever seen him.
“I missed it. When you were gone. Didn’t know how much I liked you washing my hair ‘til then.”
Jaskier gaped. Then he sputtered a little.
“Did I just hear you say multiple complete sentences about your emotions?” This was probably not the time to be falling back on humor as protection, but in Jaskier’s defense, he was exhausted and this was unprecedented.
“Yes,” said Geralt. He did not rise to the bait. Jaskier was faintly glad that he was already sitting down.
“Oh.”
Geralt raised an eyebrow. “Did I just hear you answer me in one word instead of three sentences?” He was smirking.
“Fuck off,” said Jaskier. He shoved lightly at Geralt’s leg, then hissed at the pressure on his wounded fingers.
Geralt took his wrist and held it gently. Jaskier was suddenly and effectively distracted from the pain — the warm fingers against his pulse were far, far more important.
“So, what are we doing with the hair oil?” he asked, attempting to return to the original subject and hoping that the shakiness in his voice could be excused as a result of the pain. “I can’t exactly wash my hair like this.”
“You can’t. I can.”
“Oh.” For the second time that evening, Jaskier was rendered near-speechless.
“Is that all right?”
“I— yes! Yes, absolutely. As long as you don’t mind?”
“I don’t.”
“Oh. Good.”
Geralt waited for a moment. When Jaskier didn’t say anything else, he raised the bottle. “Do you mind if I start?”
“Um. No, I suppose not. Go ahead.”
Geralt obliged.
The moment Geralt began to work the oil into Jaskier’s hair, a shiver ran down Jaskier’s spine. His eyes fluttered closed without his conscious permission. Geralt’s hands — the strong, powerful hands that Jaskier had spent so long admiring — touched Jaskier’s scalp with just the right mix of firmness and gentleness. Jaskier’s whole body relaxed. He suddenly understood why Geralt liked this so much.
“Good?” asked Geralt.
Jaskier laughed a little breathlessly. “Do you even need to ask?”
“Yes.” Geralt said. He wasn’t laughing. “I haven’t asked you enough.”
“Oh.” That was… unexpected. “Yes. It’s very good.”
“Good.”
“Eloquent.”
“Shut up and let me wash your hair.”
Jaskier, for once, did as he was told. It was not a particularly difficult order to follow.
Geralt was as thorough with this as he was with everything else in his life. He took his time, making sure everything was thoroughly rubbed in before washing it out with equal care. His fingers felt heavenly, making Jaskier’s whole body feel pleasantly warm and tingly. If he were physically capable of it, he would be purring.
“I never thanked you,” said Geralt abruptly, breaking this silence. His voice was gentle. “I apologized, but I didn’t thank you.”
Jaskier blinked, trying to work out Geralt’s meaning through the pleasantly sleepy haze that had overtaken him. “What for?”
“For being there,” said Geralt. The sincerity in his voice made Jaskier crack an eye open to look at him. Geralt’s eyes were earnest.
“You’ve done so much for me. I would have been utterly clueless with Ciri if I hadn’t known you. You’ve brought more laughter into my life than there ever was before. And I never told you that. So, thank you.”
Jaskier blinked. His eyes were suddenly wet in a way that had little to do with the water and steam.
“You’re welcome,” he said. He meant the words more than he could express.
Geralt hummed in acknowledgement and went back to Jaskier’s hair.
Jaskier must have fallen asleep shortly afterwards, because the next thing he remembered was Geralt gently shaking him back to reality.
“I’m done,” Geralt said softly. “Let’s get you to bed.”
Groggily, Jaskier got out of the bath and allowed Geralt to help him dry his hair. Geralt’s hands were far more gentle than Jaskier ever bothered to be with the towel, and Jaskier hummed happily. Geralt hummed back in response, and Jaskier had to stifle a laugh. Perhaps he had been around Geralt for too long. One of them communicating mostly with wordless sounds was bad enough; if they both started doing so, they would be completely incomprehensible.
“What’s so funny?” asked Geralt.
“Oh, nothing. I’m just tired.”
“If you say so.”
Geralt finished drying Jaskier’s hair and helped him into clean clothes. Jaskier found himself gently herded into the bed and tucked under the covers before he could protest.
“Rest,” said Geralt.
“Don’t you need my help?” Jaskier asked. He’d taken on the role of a public face for the group, so he was usually recruited to talk to shopkeepers and aldermen while they were in towns. He did not like the idea of Yennefer or Ciri being in any sort of difficulty he could prevent.
“You’ve helped more than enough for today. We can’t have you exhausting yourself.”
“I’m not an invalid.”
“You’re not exactly healthy, though.” Geralt looked pointedly at his still-bandaged hands, which Jaskier had to carefully keep out of the water throughout the bath. “You deserve a break. You’ve done enough.”
The bed was very comfortable. Jaskier still felt warm and heavy from the bath.
“Fine. I’ll stay here.”
“Good.” Geralt sounded satisfied.
Jaskier narrowed his eyes at him. “Are you sure this whole putting me to bed thing isn’t just a ploy to get me to be quiet?”
“No, that’s just an added benefit.”
Jaskier made a loudly affronted noise, and Geralt chuckled. Jaskier stuck his tongue out at him.
“That’s my bard,” he said, patting Jaskier on the head. “So mature.” Jaskier huffed.
“Are you comfortable?” Geralt asked, still sounding amused.
“Yes.”
Geralt nodded, seeming satisfied, and turned as though to leave the room.
“Wait,” said Jaskier. Geralt stopped with his hand on the door’s handle.
“What?”
Jaskier swallowed. Softly, as though afraid to break a spell, he spoke. “Stay?”
Geralt’s eyes softened. “Do you need me here?”
“I… don’t want to be alone right now. You don’t have to stay for long.”
“All right.”
Geralt came to sit on the side of the bed. They were quiet for a moment.
“I never thanked you, either,” said Jaskier softly.
Geralt stilled. “What for?” His voice was carefully neutral.
“You gave me so much. Not just inspiration. You showed me so many things I would never have seen without you. You did so much to make me the person I am, and I’ll always be grateful for that. I don’t think I ever told you.”
Geralt was silent. Jaskier couldn’t see his face.
“Oh, dear,” said Jaskier. “Did I just scare you off?”
“No, I— I’m glad.” Geralt’s voice was a little choked.
Jaskier decided not to push further. After a moment, Geralt retrieved a shirt of his that needed repair and started patching it. The movements were familiar to Jaskier after so many years of traveling together. It was soothing. Within a few minutes, Jaskier fell asleep.
~~~
Later that afternoon, feeling much more rested and content, Jaskier was up in time to see Yennefer and Ciri return to the inn.
“Wow,” Yennefer said immediately upon seeing him. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen your hair look less like a rat’s nest. You should try it more often.”
Jaskier only smirked. “Did I just hear you say that Geralt should wash my hair more? Because that’s what I heard.”
“If that’s what it takes to make you look marginally more sane, then yes.”
As one, she and Jaskier turned to look at Geralt. Geralt’s eyes widened. He backed away slightly. Ciri laughed.
“I think Geralt has a new job,” she said, grinning. “You’re a barber now whether you like it or not.”
Wayne might not be ghe best cook in the world and doesn't even have that much time for it, but he makes the best lasagna (his grandma's recipe). And Eddie loves it! Just the smell of it filling the trailer can change his whole moode. So whenever Edddie is feeling down or tries to hole up in his room saying "I don't wanna talk about it", Wayne makes lasagna, and sure enough, the smell bring Eddie out of his room, and fhey sit sown and talk. "Thanks, Wayne..." - "Anything for you, kiddo."
HEY HI HELLO I LOVE THIS SO MUCH????
the lasagna is the first meal that wayne makes for eddie on his first night at wayne's after wayne takes him in. wayne knows that eddie is confused and scared and nervous and maybe a little angry too and he wants to try to make this transition as easy as he possibly can for eddie. and that all starts with a nice homecooked meal.
wayne is in the kitchen, putting it together, when eddie slides onto one of the stools, putting his arms on the counter and just watching wayne. when wayne turns and sees him, eddie instantly sits up and makes like he's going to turn and run (because he's so used to being snapped at to "get out of the kitchen, boy, can't you see i'm trying to cook here"). but before eddie can dart away wayne just asks "you wanna help?" and then adds on "or you can just sit and watch, i don't mind it. company's nice either way" and eddie is hesitant at first, but he accepts the offer to help and so wayne starts teaching him how to layer everything into the dish.
and it just. totally sets the whole tone between them. wayne is nothing like his father — kind where his father was harsh, patient where his father was easily agitated, warm where his father was cold.
the lasagna smells delicious, and it tastes even better, and that night eddie goes to bed in his new room feeling a little more at ease, a little less scared, not as nervous or angry. he thinks, for the first time in a while, that things could be good.
naturally, that dish becomes one of eddie's favorites. it reminds him of the good memories of his childhood, and it really is a total mood lifter. sometimes he thinks that wayne puts magic in the cheese or something, because he really doesn't know how else to explain the power of that damn lasagna. he can't even get upset with wayne when he does purposefully make it because he knows eddie is shutting himself off and he just wants to make things better. 🥺🥺🥺🥺
(also!!! "anything for you kiddo"!!!!! catch me out here SOBBING!!!)
ohhhh im feeling so emotional over lasagna toniiiiiight 🥺🥺
@seidenbros i just. I hope you understand and enjoy the perfect order of this lineup of your posts on my dash today.
"Mama didn't raise no quitter"
An image of defeat
I don't know if this was intentional, but it is peak comedy
It's a lot crisper in real life 😂 I wanted it to stand for all the cats in my life, whether it's my own or one I encounter on the street, hence why it's just lineart :) On my ribs so that it's close to the heart. (I want more, see the ask I answered before.)
17. A fact about my life
Oh god, that's a tough one. Gonna be basic: I did a gap year as an au pair in Paris after I graduated high school (so 2017/18) and it was one of the best experiences of my life :) I'm still in contact with the family (visited them last year) and hope to visit them again this year!
Maybe not my FAVEfave, but Brandon Prust was absolutely wonderful, when we met him here in Germany. His team lost against the home team, and we thought he'd head straight to the bus, be in a foul mood, but instead he spent a lot of time with the people there, took numerous photos, gave autographs and I asked him, where he enjoyed playing the most, and he only took a second to think about it, and then said he really loved playing in New York, whcih made me happy.
