Chapter Text
“You were supposed to get him here safely!”
“Well, maybe if you had waited for us as we agreed, you could have helped me get him here faster!”
Jaskier was miserable. He was looking forward to spending the winter with all his wolves, isolated from the world, just relaxing, and enjoying each other’s company. What was currently happening was anything but that. Lambert and Geralt were at each other’s throats, snapping at each other – and it was his fault.
The three witchers and a bard set out for Kaer Morhen from a nearby meeting spot they agreed upon at the end of the previous winter. Everything seemed well, they were moving at a fast pace and making great progress towards their winter home but then a sudden winter storm hit, snow covering the paths, forcing them to weather the worst of it in a cave. The situation made the already grumpy witchers even more restless than usual, so when there was a window of clear skies, Lambert and Eskel offered they would go ahead, finding a path for the bard, making sure there wouldn’t be any fallen trees or rogue monsters waiting to surprise them.
Geralt and Jaskier made their way just a few miles behind them, following the track the two witchers created for them and everything seemed to be going well for a while, even though a tad cold as they trudged through the snow, leading their horses by their leads. And then…
Jaskier wasn’t sure what happened. One moment, he was trying to cheer the mood up with jokes, managing to pull a few dry laughs out of Geralt, the other he was tumbling down a steep slope, unable to stop himself before falling into a freezing creek, immediately getting soaked to the bone. Before he managed to stand up, he was being pulled out of the cold water by the scruff of his coat, Geralt’s eyes wide with worry as he looked over him for any signs of injuries, brushing the worst of the snow off him.
“You alright?”
“Except for my pride, I am unhurt,” he said with a shaky smile, teeth already starting to chatter. The witcher’s face didn’t relax at the obvious attempt to lighten the mood as he started to pull the bard back up to the path, horses waiting patiently for them.
“Come on, we should be close now.”
And yes, they were close – still not close enough for Jaskier to not fall sick. Despite being surrounded by several piles of furs and the fire merrily crackling in the fireplace he couldn’t stop shivering, sneezing, and coughing in increasingly shorter intervals.
Eskel had promised to bring him some tea and once he was gone was when Lambert started accusing Geralt of not paying enough attention to where he was leading the bard, the older witcher snapping right back and all Jaskier could do was lay there and feel terrible.
Tears started prickling at his eyes. It was his fault. They were arguing because of his damned clumsiness, further proving that he had no business having such wonderful people as his lovers. Before he could stop himself, a broken sob left him, two sets of worried yellow eyes snapping towards him, which made him sob even harder. He didn’t deserve their concern; he was just dead weight – it was foolish of him to believe he could have all of them. They were perfect, while he was just a bard with a bit of fae blood.
“Jask?” Geralt was the first to ask, his voice impossibly soft, and Jaskier let out another pained sob as he curled in on himself.
“Go. Just… please go,” he managed to get out of himself in between sobs, eyes closed as the tears stained his feverish cheeks. It hurt, sending his wolves away. But it would hurt even more once they left on their own once they finally realised he wasn’t anything special.
“Songbird?” came Lambert’s voice and, gods, it sounded so small and fragile, Jaskier hated hearing him sound like that.
“Leave me alone. Please,” he whispered, moving to his side so he wouldn’t have to watch them leave. He could hear them shuffle around at one place before they walked out the door, leaving him alone with his bleeding heart.
---
Jaskier wasn’t sure how long he had been sobbing when he heard muffled voices outside his room. He could hear Eskel, voice confused even though the words were unintelligible, two voices answering him briefly. Then there was silence before the door creaked open and closed, one set of footsteps moving towards Jaskier’s bed. He tried pretending he was asleep, but the crying made feigning regular breathing impossible.
“Knock, knock? Lambert and Geralt said you asked them to leave. Was their bickering too annoying?” Eskel asked as he sat down on the bed, looking at Jaskier with kind eyes as he placed the mug of tea on the bedside table. Jaskier sobbed, his shoulders shaking with the motion, and then there was a steady hand combing through his hair.
“Petal? What’s wrong?”
And great, now even Eskel was pitying him. Why? They would all be better off without wasting energy on him, why couldn’t the witchers see that?
Jaskier bit his lip, determined to keep silent even though all he wanted was to melt under Eskel’s touch. Perhaps it was selfish, but he wished to bask in the attention at least one last time before the witchers broke off their arrangement.
Suddenly Lambert’s words from the summer echoed through Jaskier’s skull, resulting in another bout of tears and sobs that shook the bard, accompanied by uncontrollable coughs as his lungs protested not getting enough oxygen.
Eskel tsked lightly, shifting on the bed, rearranging the bard so he was lying half on top of the witcher’s broad chest, soothing hand coming to rub circles at the base of his skull.
“Come on, blossom. Breathe for me,” he murmured, pressing a soft kiss to Jaskier’s warm forehead, waiting patiently until the bard calmed down, just an occasional sniff disrupting the silence of the room. Eskel hummed gently, still holding Jaskier close, his body providing another source of heat that the sick bard basked in.
“Tell me what’s wrong?” Eskel asked after a while of them just breathing together and Jaskier sighed, curling his hands into the fabric of the witcher’s soft shirt.
“It’s stupid,” he tried to brush it off, but Eskel was having none of it as he shook his head.
“It’s not stupid if it made you cry like that,” he rumbled gently. Jaskier was silent for a few more minutes before finally speaking.
“I’m not worth it. You – you three are incredible and I’m just a clumsy bard who tags along and can’t keep his mouth shut. I’m annoying and sooner or later you’ll realise that and won’t want me around anymore,” he rushed out to say before a coughing fit interrupted him. Eskel waited patiently for Jaskier to stop coughing his lungs out before speaking himself.
“Petal. You’re the one thing that’s keeping us all together.”
The words were said gently, meant to soothe, but of course, Jaskier’s distressed mind interpreted that statement in the worst possible way. He sniffled dismally.
“You’re together just because of me?”
Eskel chuckled warmly, bringing his hand to Jaskier’s face, wiping away the tears that spilled, smiling at him softly.
“Oh blossom. We’re together thanks to you.”
When Eskel noticed that the bard still looked unconvinced, he sighed, quietly figuring out what to say next. Eskel was good at that – thinking about his words carefully, considering every option, making sure he was certain he knew what he wanted to say before opening his mouth.
“Do you know how we spent our winters before you joined us?”
“By having lots of mind-blowing athletic sex?”
Eskel laughed, the sound rich and deep, warming Jaskier better than the furs wrapped around him could ever manage. Brushing the strands of hair that fell in the bard’s eyes away, he continued.
“Yeah. We also spent all the other time fighting and drinking, while desperately trying to not let our feelings for each other show. I remember when Lambert once drunkenly told Geralt he would go to hell and back for him, they weren’t able to look at each other for a week after.”
That was new information to Jaskier. Of course, he knew his wolves weren’t fond of words, preferring to use actions to show how they feel. They were trying to get better for him since he couldn’t use his nose to tell others’ emotions, and he loved them even more for it, making sure to show his appreciation whenever he could.
“We love you, blossom. You showed us what it’s like to let others close, to allow ourselves to be vulnerable with the people we trust the most. Without you, we would be dancing around each other for the rest of our lives.”
Jaskier mulled over that for a few long moments, while Eskel watched him patiently.
“They fought because of me,” the bard said quietly after a while, once again having a coughing fit. The witcher let out a heavy sigh, reaching for the mug of now lukewarm tea, and passed it to Jaskier, steadying him as he drank some of it.
“You know Lambert. He was scared for you and felt guilty we weren’t there to help so he lashed out.”
“It was my fault; I wasn’t looking properly where I was going and-”
“It was an accident. No need to dwell on it, you should just focus on getting healthy. Finish your tea, it’ll help. Then you can decide if you want to let those mother hens in.”
Jaskier took another sip.
“They’ve been right outside the door the whole time, haven't they?”
“What do you think?” Eskel grinned.
Jaskier finished his tea, his face scrunching at the aftertaste, letting Eskel take the mug away from him, and, with a contented sigh, cuddled back into the witcher’s chest. He thought over the conversation, letting Eskel’s words chase away his insecurities, and when they finally became as quiet as they probably would, for the time being, he looked up at Eskel with a small smile.
“Alright, they can come in.”
As soon as the words left his mouth, the door opened, two very enthusiastic witchers trying their best to fit on the bed with the two men already on it and while the bed was luckily sturdy enough, it was still a challenge to arrange themselves so none of them would end up on the ground. That’s how Jaskier found himself halfway on top of Eskel, his head nestled on one of his shoulders, Geralt and Lambert cuddling to the pair from either side. Geralt’s hands circled Jaskier’s waist from where he laid behind him, forehead resting against his spine. Lambert was against him, cuddled to Eskel, head nestled on the other shoulder. He looked at Jaskier as if he was scared the bard would scold him or something, and with an aching heart and watery smile, Jaskier reached out for him, cupping his cheek.
“Hey,” he greeted the witcher gently, fondly watching the other nuzzle his hand, pressing a scratchy kiss to the palm of his hand.
“Sorry, we argued,” he said, Geralt rumbling a similar sentiment against his spine, arms tightening around him momentarily.
“It’s alright, loves. All’s forgiven,” Jaskier mumbled, feeling suddenly incredibly tired as the stress of the day finally left his body, the tea taking effect. He let his eyes rest as the three wolves started purring around him and soon fell asleep.
---
Jaskier was warm when he next woke and for a long moment, he wasn’t sure where he was. Finally, the fog in his head cleared enough, allowing him to remember the day’s events. His head still felt heavy, throat scratchy but at least he felt warm, three living furnaces providing him with more than enough.
As he opened his eyes, letting them adjust in the early morning sun, he had to smile when he saw that Geralt snaked one of his arms far enough so that Lambert could lace their fingers together. Despite the two witchers often butting heads, they still cared for each other deeply and he was glad their little spat was nothing serious.
“You should be resting.”
Jaskier blinked up at Eskel, who was watching him with a hooded gaze, yellow eyes glinting in the low light of the room, a gentle smile on his face.
“I am resting,” he replied petulantly. It’s not like he could go anywhere with three bulky witchers using him as a plush toy now, could he? Geralt murmured something in his sleep, Lambert let out a soft snore and pulled Geralt’s hand towards him, nuzzling it.
Jaskier and Eskel shared a fond look, both glad there didn’t seem to be any bad blood between the other two.
“Sleep some more, blossom. We’ll take you to the hot springs later, that should help warm you up.”
“I think I might actually die if we do the stuff we did last year in the hot springs.”
With amusement, Jaskier watched the pupils of Eskel’s eyes dilate as he let out a pleasantly low growl.
“Eskel? Everything alright?” Geralt suddenly asked, voice heavy and deep with sleep. He shifted so he could look at the other witcher, propping his head on Jaskier’s back.
“Our bard is being a tease.”
Lambert snorted a laugh. Great. So now they were all awake. Eskel swore it was like herding cats sometimes with these three.
“What else is new?” Lambert asked, amused, mirth dancing in his yellow eyes as he gave a soft kiss to the tips of Geralt’s fingers before letting go, sitting up. He stretched, something in his back popping.
“You hungry, songbird? Actually, I don’t care. I’m gonna make you something. Geralt, come help,” and with that, he was out the door. Geralt gave a long groan, and, after kissing both Eskel and Jaskier he followed after him.
“Make sure he stays in bed,” he called over his shoulder, the bard immediately spluttering that he wasn’t a child, and he knew how to take care of himself, thank you very much.
“How dares he, he’s the one who can’t stay still whenever he’s injured, but oh, Jaskier gets the sniffles and suddenly he’s an invalid, well in all my life-“
Eskel kissed the bard, equal parts to shut him up and just because he could. The bard hummed, his need to defend his wounded pride put on hold for the moment, in favour of melting into the witcher’s touch, eyes closing in bliss. Too soon, in his opinion, he had to draw back, his slightly stuffy nose making it difficult to breathe.
“Go the fuck to sleep, Jask,” Eskel rumbled fondly, as his hands started carding through the bard’s hair gently, just in the way he knew would get the other to relax the fastest. Jaskier grumbled something about overbearing witchers, his eyes already slipping closed as he settled back down, sleep pulling him under at record speeds. So maybe he needed the rest, didn’t mean they had the right to lecture him about it.
Eskel sighed fondly as Jaskier’s breathing evened out, only the occasional mumble escaping him – unable to stay quiet even in his sleep – and wondered whether Lambert and Eskel would bring him a portion of the food as well.
---
They did bring him a portion. Yet, he couldn’t help but glare at them. Jaskier made grabby hands at the bowl filled with broth Lambert was giving him, Geralt watching them with a satisfied smirk that would tell Eskel exactly what they did while they waited for the soup to finish cooking, even if he didn’t have a witcher’s nose.
“You both reek,” he told them grumpily, trying to convince his body that this wasn’t a good time to get an erection as he took the offered bowl.
“Well, I needed to show our wolf I was truly sorry, didn’t I?” Lambert asked with a smirk and a wink, and Eskel rolled his eyes.
“Sucking him off isn’t an apology,” he tried reasoning but of course this was Lambert and Geralt he was talking about. They both just shrugged, sitting down on the bed, watching Jaskier as he took a careful sip of the soup.
“Aw, wish I could’ve seen that.”
“Don’t worry, birdy. I’m sure you’ll get plenty of opportunities to see me in action over the winter.”
“He’s sick,” Eskel said firmly, wondering if he was the only one left with any brain function between the four of them.
“I’m fine,” Jaskier whined, trying to wiggle out of the furs piled on top of him, just for Eskel to growl warningly at him before pulling the furs back up to the bard’s chin. And sure, he didn’t seem sick: his skin was a healthy colour, the fever had gone down, he didn’t sound congested or raspy and his eyes had their usual spark to them – the herbal tea, sleep and fae blood worked wonders for him. That still didn’t mean he was back to his full health yet. So what if Eskel was just the tiniest bit overbearing, he was allowed to worry in his own ways.
Dutifully, Jaskier drank his soup, letting his fingers tangle in the mess on Lambert’s head where he rested over the bard’s lap, a low rumbling purr escaping him whenever Jaskier found a good spot.
“You know. Lambert told me something interesting during our time together,” Jaskier said with feigned innocence, feeling the witcher in question tense underneath him, the remaining two wolves looking at him with cautious curiosity. He smiled, carding his fingers gently through Lambert’s hair, taking another sip of his soup before he continued.
“How do the two of you feel about marking me with bites?”
It was almost comical how quickly the mood in the room shifted to something hot and heavy, electricity crackling in the air. Jaskier smiled to himself as Geralt’s and Eskel’s eyes became darker, low rumbling growls reverberating in the room.
“We agreed not to tell him,” Geralt turned towards Lambert, who whined, hiding his face in Jaskier’s stomach. The bard patted his head soothingly, turning towards the other two witchers.
“A man was trying to bed me, and Lambert got a little bit possessive, didn’t you love?”
Lambert nodded into the furs, still avoiding eye contact with any of his lovers as Jaskier continued playing with his hair.
“I would be honoured if you all marked me,” Jaskier added after a while of silence, the three witchers growling again and looking like they were ready to pounce on him – if it wasn’t for the impatient voice calling out to them, getting progressively louder.
“And why is nobody tending to the horses! They won’t feed themselves, damnit!”
The three witchers winced. Lambert gave Jaskier a quick peck and bolted out of the room. Geralt kissed Jaskier as well, although he lingered, nipping the bard’s lower lip, holding him close by a firm hold on the nape of his neck before growling, eyes heavy with lust, pupils dilated and finally following the younger witcher out the door.
Before Jaskier could even catch his breath, Eskel was pulling him in for another kiss. Jaskier whined into the contact, a needy little sound that would normally make the witcher do anything he could have wanted – but Vesemir’s wrath was an even stronger incentive to leave and do what needed to get done.
“We’ll talk about this later,” Eskel rumbled, pecking Jaskier’s cheek quickly before disappearing as well, leaving the breathless bard behind.
He could hear Vesemir talk, Eskel’s low voice coming in a placating response as it got farther away from the room before it stopped entirely. Jaskier actually thought he was just left alone to his own devices, ready to find his notebook and start composing, when he jumped, startled, as the door opened once more, Vesemir pushing his head through the crack it created.
“How are you feeling, pup?”
Despite the frown the old witcher wore, Jaskier could hear the concern in his voice and the way his eyes were scanning him carefully, searching for any signs of pain and discomfort. Witchers didn’t care about anyone, his very beautiful ass.
“I am much better, I think I just needed to warm up properly.”
There was a moment of silence when Vesemir studied him, probably trying to figure out the accuracy of that statement. There was a time Jaskier would have felt uncomfortable under the scrutiny, now he only waited patiently.
“Good. The library is waiting for you. Make sure you dress warm.”
And then he was gone.
With a smile, Jaskier got out from beneath his fur mountain, searching for his clothes. He had a library to catalogue and a long winter with his witchers to enjoy.