Mae govannen!

I hope whoever is taking the time to read this is enjoying it ;) I won't blab on too much- so without further ado:

again: WARNING: do not read if you don't ship Geralt and Jaskier! There will be plenty more Witcher fanfictions coming from my pen- this is just the way this one decided to go ;)

Disclaimer: i own nothing of this universe!

And please reveiw!

enjoy! ;)

Geralt was not a people person.

Sure, he could deal with and handle them, but that didn't mean he wanted to. If it had been anyone else asking about parties, he would have said no. Hang it all- he had been very close to telling Jaskier that he was occupied and couldn't make it. But the damn hope in the singer's forget-me-not blue eyes had him agreeing before he'd had a chance to think. Oh well...he was here now- outside by the little crystal-blue pond, watching Jaskier's koi fish blowing bubbles. The fish was better company than the people.

Faintly, he could recall Jaskier saying that the animal was christened Prince Fillets.

Idiot, thought the witcher, not without affection.

There were times when having such acute hearing was more of a curse than a help.

This was one such time; His head was still ringing from the music and chatter of inside.

And while the fact remained that he was stronger and faster than five grown men together and that is was useful as hell, he had to remember to slow his steps down, and proceed with caution when lifting and moving things. At least Jaskier hadn't been outside to see him setting up the canopy. There would have been a lot of uncomfortable questions...

Prince Fillets the koi fish silently eyed him as it drifted along in the water. It was bigger than Geralt's lower arm, speckled black and orange, with dark eyes and long whiskers. They were a symbol of wisdom, if he remembered correctly.

The doors to the house opened and the guests spilled out onto the lawn: one loud, happy shouting mob. Geralt sighed. He had known he couldn't avoid them all night.

Some had taken to Jaskier's pool, squeals and calls of laughter and teasing rose into the night air, and Geralt had to hold in a laugh as Jaskier dodged an arm that tried to pull him into the water. The singer fled from the villain and ran smack into the witcher. He bounced off, and would have fallen into the koi pond, had Geralt not seized him and moved him away.

"You're a walking disaster, Jaskier," he muttered, smirking as his friend waved his hands.

"I give up," he huffed. "Though i swear- i'm not trying to run into you all the time."

"Destiny is a beast," agreed the witcher. He eyed the shorter man, "though i think you lied to me..."

"Uhmmm..." Jaskier looked nervous. "About what?"

"It is your birthday, isn't it?"

"Fuck." Jaskier groaned, a sheepish look creeping over his boyish face. "Yeah, alright. I never tell people because i hate it when they bring presents."

"I'm not in a habit of bringing gifts." Geralt laughed at the embarrassed face Jaskier was giving him. "Though i will be taking you out to dinner for your birthday."

"Oh?" Jaskier peered up at him with suspicion. "When?"

"Sometime this week..." said the witcher mysteriously. "No more questions." He laughed as Jaskier visibly tried to squash the curiosity on his face. No matter- in about an hour, he would be needling Geralt, trying to hunt up the name of the place. Probably to figure out what the dress code was.

Sure enough- but sooner than expected- Jaskier burst out, "But what should i be wearing?"

Geralt rolled his eyes. "Say, smart casual, Jaskier, and leave it at that."

"Alright," huffed his friend. "But if i rock up looking like an idiot-"

"-you will have no one to blame save yourself, i know."

Jaskier frowned. "That was not what i was going to say."

"Oh?" Geralt was only half-listening. Somewhere in the past ten minutes, a strange feeling of dread had come crawling up his spine, raising the hairs on the back of his neck. There was a strange chill in the air- one that the witcher couldn't place. Maybe he was just being paranoid...

Raising his head, Geralt cast his gaze about the crowded garden, his eyes searching for something -anything- that was amiss.

Nothing.

Not yet.

"You okay, Geralt?" Jaskier was watching him with concern, his face full of apprehension. "Should i be worried? You look worried..."

"No. Everything's...fine." Geralt spun about quicker than he had meant to, the creeping feeling of danger now growing stronger by the minute. Something was wrong. "Just...fine."

Jaskier seized him by the arm, voice now a bit fearful. "Geralt, what the fuck is going on?"

That was when the witcher saw her.

...Perhaps he had even seen her before.

Tall, with skin like bone, and long, dark hair. The young woman had eyes black as pitch, her voluptuous lips a curve of cruelty. Her smile, when it came was a menacing zigzag, all jagged teeth that were wholly at odds with her lovely face.

As the great, black feathered wings tore from her back, the guests' laughter fast became shouts and screams of fear and surprise. Her hands formed into claws of razorblades, her tongue flicking out to lick those full lips. There was hunger in those dark eyes as she beheld the fleeing guests. He should have known: her kind were drawn to crowds- to an easy meal.

"Such a delicious feast, all in one place..." she cooed, her voice like nails scraping down a blackboard.

A harpy.

Damn.

With a quick flick of his wrist, Geralt cast the sign of Aard and his sword shimmered into view- slung across his back. It had lain hidden by the illusion for a situation just like this one. Jaskier was looking from the harpy to the blade, his eyes wild with shock and fear. Geralt ignored him, pulling the cork from a small vial he had procured from his boot and drinking it in one quick swallow.

As always, the serum felt like swallowing poison. It burned down his throat, his ears ringing from the noise as his hearing sharpened to an inhuman pane. Seizing the stunned singer beside him, Geralt shook him.

"Jaskier! Listen to me!"

A shocked choke left the younger man as he beheld the witcher's eyes. Geralt knew what he would see- black orbs surrounded by sprawling veins of ink.

"Jaskier!"

"H-huh?"

"You need to go inside- don't come out whatever you do, do you understand?" He shook the singer again. "Jaskier! Do you understand?"

A nod.

"Good. Go- get inside and stay there."

Hardly had Geralt finished watching Jaskier vanish into the house, when a great weight bore into him and slammed him to the ground. Her talons were in him- her weight unyielding. A grunt left him as she found his throat, her mouth a grinning wound.

"Ahhhh, Witcher, Witcher," She singsonged, watching in amusement as he threw all his strength against her. She merely hauled him back with those meathooks embedded in his flesh. A snarl of pain left Geralt as she held him down, her lips brushing his neck. Damn her- if it had been any other position...now he lay atop his blade...unable to reach it. "Now don't be naughty...i'll be having plenty of fun with you." Her tongue followed in the wake if her lips, and Geralt felt a shudder of revulsion wrack his body.

Fuck.

Why does it have to be like this?

On tonight of all nights.

A choke tore from Geralt's throat as she twisted her claws, drawing him nearer to her, her teeth bared in delight. "I've never tasted a Witcher before..." she said. "Are you sweet? Or sour? Or a little in between?"

With a roar, Geralt cast Igni as hard as he could into the monster's face. The flames did their job, catching in her wings and hair like tinder to a campfire. She leapt away from him, screaming her rage, leaping into the air only to swoop down at him. A comet of death and feathers.

Ignoring the blood soaking his leather clothes, Geralt drew his sword, taking a deep breath to calm himself.

Then he moved.

To a bystander, the white-haired man would have been an elegant, whirling blur. As it was to Jaskier, who was watching from the living room window. Geralt seemed an inhuman fiend - his pale hair stained silver in the moonlight, sword humming a symphony of violence.

It was a dance of death.

Geralt was too fast for the harpy, and she finally shrieked her rage and dove for him. Geralt spun away from her, his silver sword coming up to sheer her feathers away from her wing.

The monster crashed into the grass, sprang onto her feet, and slashed at him with those talons- stained red with his blood. They met silver with a screech and the harpy recoiled, her teeth a snarl of loathing.

"Witcher!" she screamed. "Witcher! You are a dead man!"

"Then come and get me," said Geralt in reply, baring his teeth.

He dodged her attack, slamming her away with a foot, his blade carving a slice into her flesh. She hissed, ignoring the black ichor soaking her shirt, and leapt- her claws outstretched.

It was the last move that she ever made.

Geralt brought his sword up in a movement quicker than a falling star, the silver a gleam in the night, and the harpy fell onto the blade and then onto the ground, her life spilling away onto the soft grass, chest a gaping wound.

Geralt let out a soft sigh, sheathing his sword. Pain pounded in time with his heart. Blood a steady drip, drip onto the floor. The ticking of a death-watch.

Vesimir was right, as usual... he thought. They will always need us...they will always need witchers to protect them...

"Geralt?"

He was sitting down. When had he sat down? Why was he feeling so tired? Had he really lost so much blood?

"Geralt! Hey!"

A face. I know that face... "Jaskier?"

"Oh, God, that's a lot of blood. Geralt, you need to stay awake, okay? Look- talk, sing, just fucking do something! What the fuck was that just now?"

Geralt was aware of his friend laying him down, inspecting the wounds left by the harpy's talons. "I'm a witcher, Jaskier." It was out before he could stop himself. He had needed to tell him. He trusted Jaskier. And if he couldn't...then friendship was a sham.

"A... a what?"

"We...we keep things like...her...from bothering people like...you."

"What do you mean 'people like me'?"

"...Ordinary people," slurred Geralt, feeling as though he was loosing control of his body.

"So...you do this shit for a living?" said Jaskier weakly.

Geralt gave a weak nod. "Hmmm."

"Fuck." Jaskier sounded panicked. "Can you stand? I have bandages in the house- but i can't carry you, you're too heavy."

Geralt frowned. Jaskier's voice seemed to come from far away, fading in and out like a ghostly breeze. "I...what?"

"Can you stand?"

"Y...yes. I think so."

Geralt was unsure exactly when he had passed out.

He came back to himself lying curled up on a sofa in the living room, thick, white bandages bound tightly about his middle like snakes. Drawing breath was agony as his wounds moved under their covers, and a growl of reluctant pain left the witcher.

Damn. This was the last thing I needed...

It took him a moment of cursing before he conceded that he was unable to sit up. The spinning room certainly aided this deduction. He let out a groan, and suddenly, Jaskier was there.

He looked ruffled, but there was relief painted all over his face as he drew up a chair to the sofa. "You okay?" he asked anxiously, peering into Geralt's eyes. "You look okay."

Geralt let out a huff of laughter. "I'll be fine. Thanks to you. Most people would have just left me there."

"Well..." Jaskier frowned at that. "I'm not most people."

Geralt smiled, a soft curve of the mouth. "Thank you." Not having the strength to lift his head, he squinted at the clock hanging on the far side of the decorated room. "How long was i out?" Guilt nestled in his chest as he took in the drooping buntings and absence of people. "I'm sorry that had to happen...ruining the party."

Jaskier waved a hand, serious now. "Please. I'd rather you save me from that...thing than worry over a party. You were unconscious for about an hour. Not long."

"Hmmm."

Suddenly Jaskier's slender hand was on his, his fingers shaking. "God...you...you were laying so still, Geralt. I really thought at one moment...i thought I'd lost you..."

"Jaskier..." Geralt struggled up onto an elbow, gritting his teeth against the pain. "You won't loose me. I don't plan to go anywhere."

A shaky laugh left the younger man. "That's a relief."

"Glad to hear that i mean so much to you," said Geralt wryly.

Jaskier grinned. "You have no idea how much i value my friends, do you?"

Geralt bit his lip. He shouldn't.

He really, really, shouldn't.

But perhaps it was the weight of what had just struck them that night. Perhaps it was the pain of trying to hide a side of him that always managed to hurt.

Maybe he was just done hiding.

Damn it. What's the worst that could happen?

Hesitant, Geralt lent forward and laid a chaste kiss on Jaskier's lips.

And that was when he knew.

Jaskier didn't pull away. His breath warm, he deepened the kiss until they both broke away, breathing hard.

For a while, there was only silence. Then Geralt raised his head,

"You won't loose me..." he said, voice hoarse with something even he couldn't place. "Because somewhere along the road...I think i've fallen for you. Maybe it was always you..." He hesitated a moment. "There really never was a choice for me, I think. Destiny...chose you it seems."

Jaskier swallowed, scrubbing a hand over his face. "Same over here." He let out a sound that was half-sob, half-laugh. "God. That feels good to get off my chest."

"Why did you never say anything?"

"I was scared you'd hate me," admitted the singer.

Geralt squeezed his hand, a small huff of amusement leaving him. "I don't think i could ever hate you, Jaskier."