2.

The Witcher knew he looked like hell. But when Lyn opened her cottage door and proceeded to stare at him in bewilderment, he began to wonder if it was worse than he'd originally thought.

"Geralt..?"

"Sunflower," his greeting was hoarse but pleasant enough.

"What in the aerie-fire happened to you?. . . Are you going to live?"

Geralt had to bite his tongue to keep from cursing, grimacing after raising his brow. "That's the plan. . . With your help."

He was pressed against the archway of her cottage door, bleeding over the threshold and swaying somewhat dangerously.

For a second Lyn observed him, before she reached out and placed her arm around his lower back. She supported and helped him to her chair next to the fireplace, before closing the cottage door and giving him her full attention. It was clear she'd been asleep before he'd come knocking, haphazardly dressed in her nightgown and shawl. But she wasted no time in examining his wound and bombarding him with practical questions. Fae bless her.

"How long have you been bleeding?"

"Twenty minutes, give or take."

"Lucky your heart beats slower than the rest of us, or you'd have bled out by now." She said it mildly, but he could see from the glint in her chocolate eyes that she was worried. "I need you to remove your shirt. Do you need help?"

The Witcher's mouth quirked despite his pain, as he gingerly shrugged off what was left of his tunic. "Trying to get me undressed already, Lyn? What will your neighbors say?"

Seeing as she had no neighbors to speak of, Lyn snorted. "Not a bloody thing, ya cheeky wolf." She moved forward and studied the wound closer. Now that his tunic was out of the way, both were able to see the layers of the bitemark, spanning in a nearly perfect unbroken circle. It extended over most of Geralt's stomach and torso and not only seemed deep, but infected as well.

Geralt held perfectly still as Lyn inspected him, but found himself inadvertently growling when her fingers dipped into his flesh. She flashed him an apologetic look, before twisting and pulling out what looked to be an embedded tooth.

Her eyes grew wide as she reached in again and pulled out several more teeth from inside the wound. "Damn. Any idea what bit you?"

"No. I was sleeping when it attacked. . . I killed it without getting a proper look."

"Can you tell me anything about it? Any information could be useful."

He considered. "The thing disappeared into dust when I stabbed it with my knife. It was the size of a small dog and reptilian-like, had no legs or fur. It moved strangely, and it felt like it was sucking on me."

"Like a leech? With tons of teeth?"

He nodded, wishing wordlessly for the twentieth time, that he'd been allowed to kill the thing more than once. But his calculated rage had ended its life quickly. Now he just had to live long enough to enjoy the victory.

"I was out of potions. Couldn't get the bleeding to stop, or the skin to close. . . Can you do anything?" He asked, regarding Lyn intently.

"I should think so," she said, offering him a tired little smile.

She paused, looking momentarily sad, and he knew it wasn't going to be good. "Lynara . . . Don't sugarcoat it. You can tell me the truth."

"I am," she said, shaking her head. "I know I have the skill needed to heal you. But I have to pull all the teeth out first. Some look to be very deep. . . It's going to hurt."

His eyes flashed briefly with annoyance, before he sighed and leaned back in the chair. It seemed the little bastard had had the last laugh after all.

At his somewhat relaxed position, the Sunflower Healer drew closer with a pair of cleansed tweezers in hand. She met his golden gaze steadily, silently asking for permission and forgiveness, before she began the tedious work of removing the creature's teeth from Geralt's skin.

The first layer wasn't too bad. He'd experienced far worse in his sparring matches at Kaer Morhen. But when she began pulling back his torn flesh and digging deeper, he found himself gripping the arms of the chair.

"I'm so sorry," she said, continuing the gruesome work, after handing him a calfskin of sweetened ale. It was a paltry offering, but it was all she had in the way of spirits. And some alcohol was better than none. "I'm almost done."

Geralt groaned as she began on the last set, cursing as he threw back the remaining ale without blinking. His chest and stomach muscles contracted laboriously, as more blood and puss began to leak down. He closed his eyes and fought to remain calm, forcing his focus to stay on the gentle buzz of the ale and the familiar smell of lemon and vanilla.

The healer worked fast and efficiently, going quickly to spare him extended pain and more blood loss. It was only a matter of minutes before she dug out the last tooth (bigger and more pointed than the others had been) with a flourish.

Geralt watched as she placed the collection of razor-sharp shards into her fireplace. After muttering several words over the flames, the teeth began to sizzle and melt. This was more satisfying to the Witcher than he would ever admit, but his expression left little to the imagination as he sneered at the remnants of his foe.

Now that she'd taken care of the first step, Lyn bustled about the cottage gathering bottles of ready made poultices and elixirs. Then she bent over Geralt and began to gently slather them on every inch of the wound. She meticulously cleaned and treated every inch.

A deep noise in the back of his throat was the only sign that it affected him. He watched Lyn's hands move over the acrid opening. She barely touched him. It was a credit to her gift, as well as her kind nature. He'd come for help in the middle of the night. He'd given her no warning, offered no payment, and she'd jumped into action without a single word of complaint.

The Sunflower truly was a force to be reckoned with.

Geralt didn't realize he was smiling until Lyn's brow rose. "What is it?"

"Nothing," he murmured, golden eyes shining despite himself.

Lyn observed his smile before her expression grew playful. "It doesn't look like nothing, but I won't pry. I'm just happy to see your spirits high. You've had a hellish night."

"Mmm. I've had worse." His tone was full of humor, making her laugh.

"And you've definitely had better!"

Geralt wouldn't argue. She was right and they both knew it.

Lyn finished applying the salves, before she examined her handiwork. Then, she leaned her forehead against Geralts', surprising him. "Instead of sewing it closed, I'm going to use magick. But I'm going to need you to let me in, Geralt. Clear your mind and try to relax."

The White Wolf obeyed, closing his eyes and taking several deep breaths. He could feel Lyn's forehead pressing against his sweaty one, her skin smooth and cool. She exuded affection and comfort, and he found his hands creeping up from the arms of the chair to capture her waist.

He felt her shiver, but neither moved again for a long time. He held her close, while she whispered life back into his body, and when Geralt finally opened his eyes again, his torso was no longer bleeding.

The large pink scars were proof of his near-death experience, but everything else had been taken care of. No blood, no infection, no gaping hole. Only an undeniable ache and the striking scars were left to remind him of his nightmarish rendezvous. Something he was all too grateful for.

"It's going to hurt for a few days. That's normal. But are you currently experiencing any sharp pain?" Lyn asked, gauging his face for an answer, even as she fought fatigue of her own. She was a natural-born healer, but such an in depth healing was bound to drain her inner magick. It was a miracle she was still standing.

Geralt shook his head. "No. You've outdone yourself."

Lyn's relief was palpable as she pressed a kiss to his cheek. "Good. That was too close for comfort."

"I'm sorry to make you worry," he said after a moment, almost shyly. His hands still lingered against her hips, his fingers splayed across either side, as he stared at her unblinking.

"I always worry about you, Geralt. But I know it can't be helped. Your calling in life is a dangerous one. I'm just glad you were able to reach me in time tonight."

Geralt hummed his agreement, before finally letting go of Lyn and leaning back into the chair again. His hair was matted against his skull, his skin was pale and clammy, and he knew it would be a good while before he was up to walking. . . But even so, he couldn't recall the last time he'd felt so at peace.

An odd revelation, though tonight had been a record for oddities.

Lyn recognized his exhaustion and brushed his shoulder as she moved to wrap a bandage around his middle. Even with her magick in effect, she wasn't one to take chances.

"Where's Roach?" She asked offhandedly, finishing her neat bandage.

"Outside your garden gate. I didn't have time to tie the lead properly." He could barely keep his eyes open, as he replied.

Lyn gave him a half hug, once more enveloping him in the scent of lemon and vanilla. "Don't worry. I'll make sure she's settled and given some apples for her trouble."

Geralt was grateful, but found that words weren't forming on his tongue. He was too tired to formulate, but somehow Lyn seemed to understand just fine.

While he fought unconsciousness, the Sunflower Healer moved her sleeping cot next to the Witcher's feet. Then, with extraordinary care, she helped him slide down onto it. Once he was flat, she covered him up in several blankets and disappeared to check on Roach with a lantern in hand.

Geralt slipped in and out of wakefulness, as he waited for her to come back inside. Though he didn't have to worry. Even after using her powers, the Sunflower was formidable and wasn't one to give in to fatigue.

Lyn snuck back into the cottage silently sometime later, blowing out the lantern and hanging up her shawl. Geralt blinked groggily, before he opened the edge of the covers for her. In the dancing light of the fireplace, he could have sworn that she blushed, but he couldn't say for sure. Without further prompting, she scuttled over and climbed in.

Once they were settled, side by side beneath the covers, Geralt brought his arm around Lyn. There was nothing lustful about the action, seeing as both were far too tired from the events of the night. But it didn't stop Geralt from humming appreciatively, as he rested his chin atop the healer's head.

"I doubt either of us will be comfortable like this for long, Geralt."

But Geralt didn't answer her humorous comment. He was already fast asleep, snoring quietly.

Lyn chuckled as she watched him for several minutes. His face was peacefully slack as he slept. Forever handsome and warm in her eyes, but still a wolf ready to strike.

After observing him for a time, Lyn felt her own eyelids begin to droop, as she placed an affectionate kiss to the Witcher's jawline and cuddled against him, drifting into a tranquil slumber of her own.

A/N: So here's the next fluffy drabble.

I hope you guys can enjoy the random moment of cuteness. I don't know if this story will have a very in-depth plot, but I promise the fluff and one liners will be aplenty.

Thanks for reading and dropping me reviews, guys! Y'all are the best!