to grow a winter garden [jaskier x reader] [complete]

2. when water falls rush

Jaskier has been back in Oxenfurt for about three weeks now, and you have settled into something approximating a routine. Your work does not stop or change much when the seasons do, which is something that you enjoy about it, but it does mean you spend five days a week holed up in the library during the daylight hours. Occasionally there's someone significant to meet that wants your services from the dean, but mostly it's just you and half a dozen books for hours at a time.

Jaskier himself has managed to find work with several of the inns in the city, which is less surprising now that you are aware of how (apparently) famous he is. You're proud of him, of course, but it's still strange to think it. He has a rotating schedule in which he appears at them, so that no one feels favored or disfavored (his ability to manage peoples' feelings is so impressive, all the time), and he leaves sometime in the afternoon and returns long after dark.

You are in the habit of waiting up for him, no matter how late he gets in, and if he's aware of it he hasn't mentioned it. Mostly it's for your peace of mind — Oxenfurt is largely a safe place, but you wouldn't put it past him to find trouble anywhere, now that you've heard some of his traveling stories.

Despite his late return he insists you breakfast together in the morning, and he always seems to know somehow if you skip lunch or dinner. More than once you've come home to a platter on the table in the den, accompanied with a (you've decided) stern-but-fond note about your eating habits. He usually eats dinner at whatever inn is hosting him for the night, but on the weekends he doesn't perform, and you find the time to run errands together, or eat together, or just — spend time together.

Life is easier with Jaskier around, in its own peculiar way. You weren't lonely, before, but you feel somehow less lonely now. You're not too keen on investigating it; this is a gift horse you won't look in the mouth. You're also not too keen to think about what life will be like when the winter is over and it's time for him to part ways with you, to go back to his Witcher.

"What are your plans tomorrow?" you ask him over breakfast. You've had a headache since you woke but you're finally awake enough to talk, and he's been half-eating half-writing for the last several minutes. You're thinking about proposing a trip to the market in the morning — you're nearly out of the apples that he likes, and you still refuse to back down on the idea of treating him while he's here. There's a new shipment of books coming in this afternoon, as well, and perhaps you'll get first pick and bring one home, spend the evening tomorrow reading it.

"Mmm... Depends on what time I get home, I suppose. I might sleep the day away," he says, winking, and you roll your eyes at him even though it hurts a little.

"Some of us don't rise with the sun, I can't help it," you return, sticking your tongue out at him even as he laughs.

"I'm going to be so spoiled when I go back on the road again," he says, stretching his arms high over his head. "My body aches just thinking about it."

"Oh, you poor thing. Living the life of a traveling bard with Geralt of Rivia," you say, stressing his Witcher's name because it always makes him smile. You know he misses Geralt, and you think he appreciates the reminder that they're — due to meet back up, or whatever it is that they do exactly.

"Poor me indeed," he agrees, and then his brows crease and there's a worried look on his face, focused at you. "Are you alright?"

"Hm?" Now that he's mentioned it, your stomach is twisting, but you are suddenly half-afraid that if you open your mouth to speak you may vomit.

"You're looking rather pale," he says, and then sidles closer on the couch to touch your forehead. "And you're a bit clammy... Do you need to stay in today? I can go make your excuses. The Dean loves me." Everyone loves Jaskier. That's just a fact.

You take a few deep breaths, leaning your head into his hand where he's still touching your face, and after a moment the feeling passes. "I think I'm alright," you tell him honestly — though there is an undercurrent of desire to not bother him, too. He's not had much sleep yet; you won't have him running around on your behalf. You'll be fine.

"Are you sure? I could go get Shani on my way back," he offers, and you give him your most reassuring smile.

"I'm sure she's busy with her practice. I won't disturb her." You take another deep breath, let it out in a sigh. "I'll just go wash my face; I should be getting ready anyway."

He makes a noise of assent, lets you up, and you make your way to the other room with minimal struggle. Your stomach has mostly stopped folding over itself as you wipe your face down in the mirror, but Jaskier is right. You do look terrible.

Oh well. There's no one to impress anyway; it's fine.