Try, Please Try For Me

A To Be Determined "Hmmm"

Jaskier sits propped up against the headboard of their shared bed and plucks the strings of his lute quietly, smiling to himself as he gazes down at the sleeping witcher beside him. This is the first time he's ever woken up before Geralt and subsequently had the pleasure of seeing the witcher look entirely at peace.

His lips are parted slightly, face relaxed, and for once devoid of any tension in his brow or jaw that comes with the usual scowl that acts as his default. Jaskier also feels a hint of smug satisfaction seeing Geralt's hair spilling over the mattress, soft and silky after finally getting the treatment it deserves. Hmmm, yeah, like a sheep.

Could...witchers look cute? Because if so, Jaskier would say that at this moment, his certainly fits the bill.

Geralt shifts, and amber eyes blink open, staring up at him. "Jaskier?"

"Good morning, dear."

The witcher blinks sleep heavy eyelids. He looks from a fully dressed Jaskier to the window, where the sun is streaming bright lines onto the floor. "How long have I been sleeping?"

"Not ridiculously long if that's what you're worried about. But it is well past the crack of dawn when I know you usually like to get up. That fight with the zeugl must have really done a number on you."

Geralt hums in agreement then nods towards Jaskier's lute. "That sounds nice," he murmurs. "Is it a new song?"

Jaskier purses his lips and pauses his playing. "Hmmm, not sure yet. It just came to me when I woke up this morning." He leans down and gives Geralt a chaste kiss. "I suppose you could say I was inspired by a good source."

The witcher's eyes narrow in suspicion. "Jaskier."

"Yes, my dear muse?"

"Are you writing a terrible song about my dick? If you are, I'll never forgive you."

Jaskier gasps. "Of all the unsavoury accusations-- I'll have you know I take my craft very seriously-- and any song I would write about you would only hold you in the highest regard!"

Geralt eyes him, voice steely. "That wasn't a no."

The bard flushes. "Yes-- well I cannot guarantee that I--"

"Nope. Jaskier I need you to say, no, Geralt. I am not writing a song about your cock right now."

"...so how's your leg?

"Jaskier."

"Oh alright, fine," the bard says, holding up a hand in surrender. "I promise I won't write a song about your dick."

"Hmmm. Good."

Jaskier places his lute off to the side and runs a hand through Geralt's hair, nails scraping gently across his scalp, then kisses him on the forehead. "It's a shame though. It would be a ballad for the ages."

Geralt snorts. "I'm sure it would be."

Jaskier tries not to be too offended by the sarcasm lacing his voice as he watches the witcher rise from the bed, and start getting dressed for the day.

"I'll need to collect my payment for the contact this morning," Geralt says. "Then I have to pick something up at the market. Do you want to go downstairs and grab us some breakfast while I get ready?"

Jaskier nods. "I would be delighted."

Jaskier returns minutes later with a tray of food in hand, and the two sit on the bed, while they eat. Geralt watches with fascinated horror as Jaskier piles honey and apple slices onto a piece of bread until the thing is soaked and dripping, then proceeds to consume it in under a minute and start on the rest of the honey, eating spoonfuls right out of the jar.