AN: I made the Spotify playlist, I will put the link at the bottom of the text.

This takes place right after episode 5. Thanks to everyone who is reading, liking, favoriting, kudo-ing, following, and bookmarking this story. You guys give me strength!

Summary: Geralt made a mistake.

Geralt liked being clean. Despite all evidence to the contrary, he preferred being clean over dirty. As a child he was compulsive about it, always washing his hands and digging dirt from under his nails. In training that compulsion was removed from him, but it popped up again every once in a while, only when he was truly nervous. In the close to ten years the two had been traveling together, Jaskier noticed that true nervousness a grand total of two times. Still, the lovable idiot made sure to at least get a washbasin and fresh soap whenever they got an inn for the night, if not a full bath for his beloved witcher.

The two had just left Rinde a month ago and, per Geralt, avoided civilization for the most part. He was even more broody and irritable than usual so Jaskier indulged him this oddity. When his boyfriend was in a bad mood, keeping him from humanity was generally a good idea. It was why Jaskier found it odd that one day Geralt veered them straight back onto the main road. They trotted in silence most of the day (relative silence as Jaskier strummed mindlessly on his lute) until the bard noticed a sign for a bath house. Gosh being pampered in a bath house sounded so good. Their purses were still full and Jaskier was sure he'd be able to stir up some extra coin should they need it.

"Geralt look!" Jaskier whined, pointing towards the sign with a waving hand. "A bathouse! Geraaalllttt."

"What?" The witcher stopped and turned in his saddle to see the sign. He didn't look… not happy with the idea. "They're expensive."

"My treat then!" Jaskier exclaimed with a grin. "My lovely Countess was an incredibly generous patron. I can afford to splurge on my very smelly but still excruciatingly handsome boyfriend."

Without giving Geralt a chance to protest, Jaskier was off down the path whistling a merry tune. Geralt just shook his head and followed with a soft smile on his face. He still didn't remember when exactly they'd decided their relationship with more than just sex. It had just sort of happened. They'd been in an inn and Jaskier was talking animatedly to one of his bardic colleagues and the word 'boyfriend' just slipped out. Neither had caught it and it wasn't until they were settled in their room after another round of mind blowing sex that that word had caught up to them. They didn't have a discussion, per say, Geralt was never one for conversation, but he didn't correct Jaskier and didn't offer another word, so boyfriend stuck.

Geralt would sooner cut out his tongue than admit that he liked it.

The bathhouse was large, a repurposed castle that Geralt could feel the magic running through. It was still early spring and a winter chill was threatening to creep back onto the continent, so the warmth of the bathhouse was a very welcome change. Even in reception, the air was thick with steam and scented oils. Geralt almost regretted it as his senses were assaulted by all the smells and herbs and potions and nonsense. Were a monster to attack, he was almost sure he wouldn't sense it until the beast was upon them. Not a great thing for a witcher. He turned to Jaskier, about to drag his lover out, but when he saw the exacted look on his bard's face as the hostess explained the packages, he deflated. Jaskier had left the warm comforts of the south and generous and loving patron in the Countess just to come north while it was still cold to get attacked by a djinn, watch Geralt almost die, and then be sequestered from people for more than a month. Guilt crept into his thoughts when Yennefer's face popped up in his mind and he relented to letting his beloved have his night of luxury.

They were shown to a room and from there given directions to a private bath, being told it would be ready and waiting for them. Everything was luxurious, from a soft, thick, large bed with silken dressings, to a roaring fire set with a fur rug and a wine red chaise lounge, to windows with gossamer drapes that went almost floor to ceiling that overlooked an expansive and colorful garden.

"What do you say to a power nap and then the baths?" Jaskier asked, rousing Geralt from his musings as the bard stretched in front of one of the large windows. "Yes a nap. That's what we need. A nap in that chaise lounge, what do you say? Maybe I'll open a window and we can have a breeze. Oooh but it's cold. Wait we can throw a blanket over us. That would be lovely. Doesn't that sound lovely darling?"

When Jaskier turned to Geralt, arms still stretched over his head, blue eyes sparkling, and a bright smile shining on his face, it melted a little more of the ice around the witcher's heart. He gave Jaskier a soft and gentle smile as he grabbed the blanket off the bed. The grin on the bard's face grew as he cracked open a window and allowed a brisk spring breeze into the room that fluttered the curtains. Geralt laid down first, his open arms an invitation for Jaskier to join him. His bard wasted no time and curled right into his chest, nuzzling up until his head was tucked under his witcher's chin and he could hear the steady slow beat of his lover's heart. The blanket was tossed over them and the two were enveloped in a cozy warmth. It was easy to slip into a light sleep.

Over the years of traveling, Geralt had gotten very good at timing his naps. He had to be when he was exhausted from hunting a monster and needed to sleep but didn't have a lot of time. He trained himself to wake up exactly when he wanted to, so it was of little difficulty to wake himself after an hour's nap. He found it more difficult, however, to find the will to extract himself from his lover's arms. He didn't want to wake Jaskier from his obviously peaceful sleep, but he also knew that if he didn't wake him, he'd never hear the end of it. So he started fethering kissing over his love's hair and face to rouse him. It was moments like these, in the quiet, just the two of them, Geralt usually felt the most at peace. When everything was warm and content, Jaskier's questions about witchers retiring and wanting things rattled around in his head. When the bard had asked, there wasn't anything more to his answer then what he gave at the time. But now? Now, nearly a decade into their relationship, Geralt wanted so much more than he'd ever comfortably admit.

The bard's eyes fluttered open, bright blue searching out for gold as they shook off the haze of sleep. He was greeted with a tender kiss and a soft sigh and wandering, lazy hands. Geralt pawed a hand through his lover's hair, pushing the chestnut locks out of his face as he cupped the back of his head and tilted it just enough to gently break their kiss. The whine that left those beautiful lips almost made Geralt want to capture them again and ravish him right there on the sofa. But he was eager for the baths and he knew his lover was too.

"Come now, my little lark, didn't you want to bathe?" the witcher asked, nuzzling in his boyfriend's hair. That earned him a nod and he felt his boyfriend's body curl and contract as he stretched the sleep out of his muscles.

"Mmmm oh that's right the baths," Jaskier muttered, pushing the blanket down a little bit and taking a deep, sighing breath. "Just five more minutes, please."

Geralt nodded and they stayed cuddling for a few more minutes, the whole time a rising feeling of bile making itself known in the witcher's gut. When he felt the bard drifting back off to sleep, he finally roused him and got both of them up. It was a short walk down the hall, down a flight of stairs, and into a new wing of the building. This area was filled with steam and smells and noises. Gearlt heard so many noises. Running water, people talking, people making love, people arguing… Only Jaskier's hand holding his kept him from running. Before he knew it, his bard was opening and door and leading Geralt into their private bath.

It was beautiful. Just like the gardens he'd seen outside, the bath looked more like a miniature lake than a bath. It was set into the ground, surrounded by well worn stones and flowers. Even the bath had water plants in it to keep it filtered and clean. It all smelled so wonderful and overwhelming that Geralt wasn't sure he could take much more. This whole place was an assault on his senses that he couldn't quite take. He felt Jaskier stripping him, pressing feather light kisses on his body as he did so.

Then he was being lowered into the warm bath water and his senses were no longer assaulted. It was as though a switch had been flipped and the moment he dipped below the water's surface everything stopped, all the noises, all the smells, all the feelings, everything. The water was nice, it cocooned him. He hadn't even realized he'd closed his eyes until he opened them and saw Jaskier sitting across from him on the other side of the pool, flicking water around with his fingers. The bard's elbows were propped up on the edge as he flicked water and tutted, batting something around in his head. Geralt found there was a seat carved into the walls of the pool and sat, searching out soap and a brush.

"So," Jaskeir started, his voice low, not looking Geralt in the eyes as he spoke. That didn't sit well with the witcher as his hands closed over the jar of soap. "Yennefer."

That name made Geralt stop. His senses were assaulted again as he dragged the bottle forward and poured the liquid into his hands. "What about her?" he growled, not wanting to speak of the witch when he wanted to relax.

"Should we talk about her?" Jaskier met his eyes and Geralt could see the unspoken question there. 'Should we talk about you fucking her?' They hadn't spoke about her at all since they left Rinde and Geralt didn't want to give his boyfriend an explanation even though he deserved one-

So instead Geralt countered with, "Should we talk about the Countess de Stael?"

"Touche," came the half aggravated response. Because they'd never talked about their relationship, never decided if they were exclusive or not, and it certainly hadn't been their first winter apart and wouldn't be the last but- "She was lovely. Comely face, decent sense of humor, she actually liked my songs" Geralt felt that hit his heart and his comment of a fillingless pie came to the forefront of his mind "and paid me generously. But she was needy Geralt, I mean really needy. We'd fuck and as soon as she'd come she'd start demanding songs. I mean I had no want for material and not all of those songs will ever see the light of day but it was annoying. I was glad when I realized winter was over and immediately headed north."

"You said she left you," Geralt quipped and Jaskier's eyebrows shot into his hairline. The bard must have thought he hadn't been paying attention.

"A lie," Jaskier said with a shrug. "You looked so distracted I said whatever I could to get a rise out of you. It didn't work."

'Yes it did,' Geralt thought grimly, 'Just not in the way you wanted.' All the talk of the Countess had raised his ire, and in his already exhausted and sleep deprived mind, he couldn't handle it. So when Jaskier started making those wishes, he lost it. And he regretted it. Because after ten bloody years together they'd never had the adult conversation about their relationship. They didn't take lovers or whores when they were together and they were always together except during winter they'd never talked about it they never had to it was never so in your face like it had been with that godforsaken countess and a mage and-

With a horrifying sense of clarity, Jaskier watched his boyfriend's compulsion return. Geralt must not have noticed that he had taken the brush and was scrubbing his finger nails like he wanted to wash them completely away. He'd watched Geralt do this one before, and the last time the witcher had scrubbed so hard for so long that his nail beds had started bleeding. That led to a whole new round of hysteria that was painful to watch. So before it got that bad, Jaskier crossed and the pool and took the brush from Geralt's hands and tossed it aside before grabbing right hands together and left, crossing them and holding both strong, monster killing paws to the bard's chest. It forced Geralt to look at him, gold eyes blown wide in the midst of his episode. Jaskier was going to say something to calm him, but Geralt spoke first.

"I've made a horrible mistake," he said quietly, his voice actually shaking and Jaskier realised this was important. Geralt never admitted mistakes, he never did it nervously, and it never brought out his compulsion before. So Jaskier listened intently as Geralt told him about the djinn and the wish and what he'd done with Yennefer. How the last wish was made in a panic because the room still smelled of that damn lilac and gooseberries that made his head foggy, he wasn't thinking straight but he couldn't just let her die. Then when they landed in that debauched room and that damnable wish took effect he couldn't keep his hands off her, even as he saw his love through the window watching with a mix of hurt and horror on his beautiful face. But he couldn't stop and he was so exhausted when it was all over he just fell asleep. The whole mess had fucked him up so badly that he hadn't found the will to even think about it. Something about this place had the words tumbling in a jumbled mess from his mouth and into his lover's patient ears. At the end of his explanation, his eyes locked with Jaskier's as he waited for the bard to say… anything.

It look a long minute of thinking as Jaskier tried to sort it all out. There were so many questions ratling around and Jaskier had to regurgitate it all in his own words. "Let me get this straight," he started softly, not wanting to startle his boyfriend. "You… bound her to you? That about right? All to save her life but… Why? I don't understand…"

"She saved your life," Geralt repeated, physically shaking some sense into his brain. "I couldn't let her die. I paid my debt."

"But it's my life, that was my debt," Jaskier reasoned, blinking hard a few times trying to understand. "Geralt I still don't get it. Why-"

"Because you are my life, Jaskier," Geralt suddenly blurted out, his gold eyes as sincere as Jaskier had ever seen them. "When Chireadan told me you might die I…"

Now this his confession was out, his body and mind was calming, and words were becoming difficult again. Jaskier shushed him, understanding his unspoken words as well as if they'd been audible. Geralt couldn't see himself without Jaskier, and sought out the only person around who could save him. He'd heard Geralt promise any price for his life. Perhaps the witcher thought that giving her back her life balanced the books. Perhaps he was right…

"So you're stuck with her now then," Jaskier continued, a little more sourly as Geralt nodded. "Any way to break the djinn's magic?"

Geralt shrugged. "I'm not sure but… There are places I can go to find information." Jaskier got the distinct impression they'd been on their way to one of those places when he distracted them. It was probably why Geralt had veered them back onto the road. "Please say something about this."

"Something like…" Jaskier tapered off, unsure of what to say next. For once he was at a loss.

"Anything." Geralt's voice was almost pleading.

That's when it clicked. Geralt wanted to know if he was angry. His face softened into a smile and he pressed a kiss to Geralt's forehead. "Do you remember the promise we made to each other all those years ago? In that decrepit church, high of succubus gasses?"

A soft sigh and a nod, Geralt remembered that night. It was a little fuzzy, but he remembered. They'd chased a succubus back to her lair in a church that was no longer inhabited. She'd set up traps all over the place, rigged to release a gas designed to relieve someone of their senses. Geralt had managed to kill it before most of the traps went off, so there was only enough gas to give them a really good high. They'd found an old prayer book open to wedding vows and made a game of it.

"I remember," Geralt muttered, dropping his forehead onto his love's shoulder.

"'I will share his burdens and his happiness, lift him in troubles and in triumphs'," Jaskier recited the last part of the vows, eyes closed as he too let the memory wash over him. "'I will say by his side for better or for worse, in sickness and health. For I am his and he is mine, from this day until my last day.' I meant it then and I still mean it now. If this… wish and this… girl is your burden then let me take some of the weight. We'll… figure something out. I'm sure of it." He pressed a kiss to Geralt's hands still entwined with his own and smiled. "I mean don't get me wrong, I don't like the idea of sharing you. You're mine." The wicked grin on Jaskier's face stirred something primal in Geralt's loins. "But if I have to, because of this djinn, I want it on my terms. Can you do that?"

"I can do that," Geralt swallowed, sighing deeply into Jaskier's shoulder. "Thank you." There was a short sigh, another pause, and the witcher sucked in a deep breath. "You know I love you, right?"

"I know," Jaskier said with a nod and a smile. He never got a straight 'I love you' from his witcher. It was either unspoken, or in the rare moments when Geralt let his guard down, in the form of the question just asked. It was more than enough for Jaskier. After all, hadn't he promised not to try and change his love in any way? "Come on, let's get you clean. Your hair is so dirty a rat tried to make a nest in it last night and no, that's not a metaphor, there was a real rat and it was fat and ugly. I had to chase it off with a stick."

It was so rare for Geralt to get any peace. His life had been a tumultuous mess since his mother abandoned him that he'd entirely given up on the idea of it. Triss had summed up his life well, 'money and monsters'. But now, sitting in that bathtub with Jaskier settled nicely in his lap, the bard's back to his chest and his arms around the thin waist, he thought maybe peace was really possible. As his bard traced random patterns into his arms, he wondered what would happen if he went back to Cintra to claim his Child Surprise. Would Jaskier raise it with him? Would he even be happy with a kid? He'd always seemed to love kids whenever they stopped in villages and they would fawn over his lute and his fancy clothes. Perhaps he'd ask one day. There was something more important first…

"It's quiet in here," Geralt mused, feeling Jaskier startle. His bard must have been drifting off to sleep.

"I can play something for you," Jaskier offered, nodding to the harp in the corner. Before Geralt could answer, the bard lifted his hand towards it and muttered something in Elder under his breath. He flicked his fingers and the harp played itself. Geralt had seen him do that a few times, he'd seen a few bards do that, but everytime Jaskier did it was on a new instrument and the love he held for this bard grew.

"I'd prefer it if you sang something." The harp halted, but not in the proper way that a musician finishes a song, but in that discordant way comes from when the musician is shocked into stopping. Jaskier turned in his lap to give his boyfriend the harshest glare he could muster, which was actually significant. Geralt felt that glare in his soul. "What?"

"You really want to hear something from my fillingless pie? It's not going to harm your sensitive sensibilities and ruin your peace?" Jaskier asked, the venom dripping down his words and searing themselves into Geralt's mind. He felt shame rising in his gut and brought a hand to Jaskier's cheek, stroking it with the back of his fingers and he sighed.

"You could never ruin my peace," Geralt said softly, trailing those fingers down his bard's neck and chest. "And you don't have a fillingless pie… I like the way you sing."

The soft smile that came to Jaskier's face made Geralt's worries soften. His bard leaned over, pressing a kiss to his witcher's nose. "You know," he started, turning fully so he could straddle his lover's lap. "Just saying 'I'm sorry' is a lot easier. Two simple words. Even you can muster that."

Geralt just grunted and grabbed his lover's ass, sliding him closer into his lap. "Maybe I just like complimenting you," he hummed, pressing an open mouthed kiss to the bard's neck. "Especially after I've been a brute." The chuckle that bubbled up from Jaskier's throat made Geralt arch a brow. "What?"

"You got that from me," Jaskier giggled, trying to contain his laughter but it wasn't working. The more he tried to stop, the more chuckles came out. "You never used the word brute and now you use it all the time. You got that from me!"

As his love dissolved into his giggle fit, Geralt just rolled his eyes. He was sure there were more habits and phrases he'd picked up over the years. One day he'd sit down and figure out just how many there were, but for now he just held his bard and laughed with him.

Spotify playlist is here (remove spaces): open. spotify playlist/2kNgP9Gth8RN5v4InCJb6T

AN: A short-ish chapter here today guys. I hope you enjoyed! Also, my beta poofed into thin air, so if anyone is willing to volunteer, let me know!