Too Much Talk of Dying
Geralt patted his grey mare, urging her forward with his seat as she tried to slow. The bridge ahead creaked and swayed. The pitch-dark sky above had been daylight only minutes before. "It's okay, Roach," he said quietly, encouraging her when her head began to raise, the wooden slats beneath her hooves not a lot wider than one would expect in a walking bridge.
The silver-haired witcher hearing only one set of horse hooves kept his gaze forward as he called behind him. "Everything all right, Dandelion?"
"Yeah, I'm just going to wait until you've crossed," was called back squeamishly.
"It's strong enough to hold us both," he said, shifting his weight to guide his mare back to the center as they passed the midway point. A wind picked up, and the sky seemed to grow. "You should hurry, before it starts raining."
"Maybe I'll just stay over here for tonight!" was shouted just as the bridge began to creak with a vengeance.
Geralt cursed and urged Roach on when she began to dance on the narrow passage, breaking into a trot the last few strides. He pulled her in when she tried to take off, turning her in a tight circle to look back on the bridge, and ice cold rain began to fall. "I wouldn't! There are ghouls out tonight, and you won't be able to start a fire if this keeps up, just hurry, you'll be fine!"
The blond cursed colorfully as only a world-renowned poet could, and Geralt almost found himself grinning until his friend slid down from his mount, and he watched in a growing concern as he began to cross, leading his horse across.
The clouds chose that moment to open up, and Geralt held Roach in place as she tried to dance towards coverage. "We have to wait for Dandelion first," he said quietly, watching his friend reach the halfway mark but struggling to keep his horse under control. He reached out his hand and formed a sign over her, calming her, then he dismounted just in case. He watched his friend struggling, moving more slowly as he fought to keep his horse from trampling him, the bridge beginning to sway in an unnatural way, and a board just a few feet behind the poet and his horse came loose, then another, both falling and crashing beneath. "Just let him cross, I'll catch him!" he shouted over the thunderous rain.
"Okay!" Dandelion urged his horse forward, the animal needing little encouragement as it took off.
Geralt barely saw it pass, his gaze focused intently on his friend who was stumbling over rain-slicked boards, the bridge shaking more and more, looking like it might throw him off, and he held onto Roach as he edged towards it. He reached out his hand, leaning out onto the swaying pass. "Come on, you can make it!"
His friend met his gaze, blue eyes suddenly wide, and the poet surged forward just as the bridge began to fall. Geralt dropped the reins, grabbing onto his friend's outreached hand, and then he was pulling them both backwards with all his strength and onto solid ground.
"Just let him cross, I'll catch him!"
Geralt sighed as he peeled his wet shirt off, laying it carefully spread out by a crackling fire. "I told you, it was him or you. Which would you have preferred?" He stood back up to undo his pants.
"Me, of course!" the poet shouted, sounding thoroughly offended. "But you didn't have to lie! I had everything under control."
The silver-haired man stepped out of his pants, arranging them with care like the rest of his clothes before turning to face his friend. "If you had, I wouldn't have lied."
The soaked blond stared back at him with a peculiar expression, before recognition crossed his face, and he blinked a few times rapidly before shouting, "Ah ha! So you admit you were lying!"
Geralt sighed, and he approached his friend. "Stop yelling, you're going to get us kicked out." He passed him, the single bed in the room looking incredibly welcoming after weeks of sleeping on the ground outside. They'd happened upon a farm house less than a mile after the bridge that belonged to a farmer, his wife, and his four daughters.
"I'm just saying, you could've trusted me."
The witcher pulled down a blue and white quilt, slipping under, and he grunted as his body sunk into the welcoming material. He sighed. "I'm sorry, you're right. Now come to bed."
Geralt let his eyes close, and he listened to grumblings, and then blankets pulled down some, and he felt his friend slip in. He frowned when he felt a slight draft, and he opened his eyes to find the blankets pulled taut between him and the blond poet, who had his back to him and who was hanging half off the bed.
He lay there for a few seconds. "What are you doing?"
"Ah." Dandelion started, and he rolled onto his back, shooting him a wide-eyed glance. "Has anyone ever told you your voice is terrifying? It's like if a ghoul mated with a monster."
Geralt grinned some. His friend never tried to smooth over his witcher characteristics or lie about his roughness to save his feelings... which he found oddly refreshing. It made him feel like he could truly relax around him. He noticed blue eyes flick back over and take quick account of his scarred bare torso, and his enhanced vision caught growing black pupils. "You didn't answer my question." He shifted forward and towards his undressed friend, who responded by quickly turning onto his side and edging away.
The witcher had to repress a bigger smile. "What's wrong with you?"
Dandelion swallowed loudly. "It's just, do you realize how disturbingly big you look without your clothes on?"
Geralt felt a laugh shake his chest. "You've seen me before, Dandelion, I haven't grown."
The poet hummed uncertainly, and Geralt's laughter persisted as he reached out, pulling his friend's hand and setting his palm overtop his chest as if it would prove his previous words to be true. "What does it matter? We're just lying in bed to sleep, I'm not challenging you to a battle."
Geralt's heart thumped steadily under his friend's resting palm, and after a few moments of silence, the only sound the small fire crackling a few feet away, Dandelion's hand began to drift somewhat...
"Hmm..."
"Mmm..." Geralt responded, vertical pupils slipping behind closed lids.
"Have you spoken to Yennefer recently?" was asked, the bard's voice quieting.
Geralt shook his head faintly, and cocked his hips upward reflexively as distracting, cool fingertips trailed down his stomach in an unfamiliar way. "What are you doing?"
"You ask that a lot," Dandelion said, his words a playful hum, the poet seemingly over his initial scare of sharing a cot with him. "She'll kill me if she ever finds out about this..."
Geralt husked a laugh, not initiating anything as his friend teased his lower stomach, perhaps waiting for some kind of response from him. He'd be lying if he said he wasn't interested at that moment. His mind flicked back to their kiss a few months back, and the unexpected reaction that had flooded his body. "About what?" he said, his gruff voice hiding a smile. "You're not doing anything."
Fingers snuck lower, and the silver-haired witcher drew in a chestful of air.
"What was that? I couldn't hear you," Dandelion murmured suddenly against his neck.
Geralt grunted, his friend's impishly curled lips suddenly trailing his skin and talented hand sliding around him. "You're right, she would be upset over this, but don't worry, I'll protect you," he said, wrapping his arms around his best friend's body and pulling him closer to him on the small bed, his cool skin feeling nice against his warm as he added in a rough whisper, "That way we can die together."
Dandelion laughed softly, his hand speeding up as he relaxed, Geralt wrapped around him, causing his heart to beat erratically and his mind to turn to mush. He questioned his sanity, but never his feelings when it came to the larger man.
