And Howl Your Pain unto the Moon

Part 12 - Okay

Geralt flipped the omelet once more, before dividing it into three parts and sliding it onto the plates. He liked Yennefer's kitchen. She never cooked in it, but it had anything you needed. He couldn't help but wonder what Jaskier would cook if he got hold of all those spices. The witch was sipping her apple juice at the table, lazily browsing through one of the thick magical tomes, and Jaskier was most likely still sleeping, so he put the plates on the table where some bread was already waiting, watched as the witch automatically cast warming spell on the bard's plate, and ate.

He was so damn grateful when she let him inside last night. They didn't talk right away, he was tempted not to talk at all, but when the early morning came and they met on the terrace, he had to try. He remembered Jaskier's words, apologized, groveled, apologized again, and to his surprise, she sighed, rubbed her temples, and said 'Okay'.

He was prepared for shouting, blame, anger, and maybe even her attacking him, but not for this. After that, they talked much, much more. They talked about their relationship, about the djinn, about how much of their bond was forced, and even though it hurt, they slowly started reforming their relationship into something much, much more suited to them. Friendship.

It was then that the witch started on another topic. The bard.

He couldn't fool her, the same as he couldn't fool his brothers. He was pretty damn sure that at this point the only person he was fooling was Jaskier, and if that wasn't true, and Jaskier just ignored him because he didn't want to deal with it, he wouldn't be surprised. In the end, he admitted it all. The horrible emptiness when he ended up truly alone for the first time in years. The self-hatred when he found out about the curse. The horrible hope that blossomed every time the bard smiled at him, or they touched.

Even the lust that he tried to ignore every damn time they cuddled. Geralt fell asleep with Jaskier plastered to his back, just so he would be sure he wouldn't wake up poking the bard with his boner. Even then there were a few close calls, and each time scared him more than the last.

Now, Jaskier touched him almost constantly. At first, it was almost painful, he wanted the touch more than anything, but still, he had to stop himself from leaning away every single time. Then, after a time, he had to stop himself from leaning in, or at least leaning in too much, afraid that as soon as the bard realized that Geralt wanted more, he would run, and there would be no more.

Yes, Jaskier certainly didn't smell like he had a problem with the touch. He smelled horny when he plastered himself over Geralt's lap, he smelled horny when he washed Geralt's hair, and he smelled horny in the morning when they woke up next to each other. But, and it was a huge, crucial but, Jaskier smelled horny when in the big cuddle pile in their den back in Kaer Morhen, Jaskier smelled horny when he was singing in a tavern and a pretty barmaid winked at him, Jaskier smelled horny when he first met him when he was a youngling with barely any hair on his chest, and Jaskier smelled horny when he walked down a dusty road and thought too hard for a minute.

In short, the fact, that Jaskier was horny around him, didn't tell him anything, because the bard was horny all the damn time.

His sign that the bard truly enjoyed his company, and some of his most fond memories, were the moments, when the lust grew weaker, pushed to the backstage because of overwhelming happiness and contentment, as the bard grew silent, just sitting next to him and staring into the flames, had it been in the den or in their camp. And that, that was purely platonic.

Geralt cherished those moments way too much to risk upsetting the precarious balance their friendship was now standing on.

It was a huge weight off his chest when he told Yennefer and the witch understood. Not approved, but understood, and told him she'd be there for him if anything went wrong. At least, if all went to shit, he would have a friend to return to.

He finished his breakfast, wondering if he should go check on Jaskier and wake him up, when there was a movement outside, the door to the terrace opened, and the bard stepped inside. He smelled of the stable, but the rest of his smell was weirdly muddled. Geralt noticed the light saltiness in the air, and the slightly reddish rims of Jaskier's eyes, and his heart stopped for a moment.

"Everything okay?" he stood up, immediately walking over stretching his hands towards the bard, when Jaskier smiled and brushed him off.

"It's fine, I just got a bit emotional. You know, bards," he shrugged his shoulders and walked over to eat his breakfast. At first, Geralt wanted to ask more, but soon Jaskier started babbling about how Roach was, and the festival that was happening that summer in Oxenfurt, so he reckoned it truly was just a moment of the stress of the curse lessening.

After the meal, Yennefer quickly checked Jaskier over once more, proclaiming the counter-curse to have worked, and the bard thanked her with a little smile that she honestly returned to him. They were ready to depart shortly after lunch, and Yennefer hugged him as a goodbye, wishing them both luck and promising she'd check in after the full moon. When they departed, the day was warm and sunny, birds were singing, and Jaskier walked ahead of him, whistling a lively walking tune.

Geralt breathed out, letting himself relax. Okay. It was okay.