Chapter Text
Despite not being what many would deem a traditional alpha, Jaskier had still been raised with the ideals of one. Some he had thrown the yoke off of early. After all, he had no desire to take part in the posturing and aggression displayed by the alphas around him. He much preferred to use his words, his true talent, and ingratiate others with his general aura of confidence, rather than shouting how secure he was in their faces.
The one instinct that hadn’t left him, however, was the deeply ingrained need to show he could provide for others in his pack, so to speak. He was always the first to buy a round for his friends at a tavern, or to remember his sister’s birthdays and send a trinket to them, no matter where on the continent he was.
Traveling with Geralt, then, was a challenge in this regard. Jaskier was admittedly out of his depth when it came to the kind of travel Geralt did. He could fend for himself well enough, but when he offered to help set up camp, or cook, Geralt’s reactions ranged from bewildered to dismissive. It set Jaskier’s teeth on edge, feeling unneeded. He recognized that Geralt was probably an Alpha (the stories said witchers always were- he hadn’t thought it polite to ask Geralt), and likely didn’t want him stomping all over his territory, but it stung to not be able to show his friend his affection.
All this to say, Geralt was terrible to shop for.
Jaskier was currently browsing through the shops in Oxenfurt, enjoying the last few days of his winter reprieve before meeting up with Geralt. Every year he had the same fear that this would be the one where Geralt didn’t pass through Redania, but he distracted himself from his anxiety with friends, food, fu-all the carnal desires that he could take advantage of in the city. But now that the snow had melted and the flowers were back in bloom, he set upon his task of finding something to show Geralt that he both missed him, and was a worthy traveling companion to keep around.
Something practical would be best. Geralt wasn’t known for allowing himself many pleasantries, and he was sure his pack would be fully stocked after a winter with all the supplies he would need. So it would have to be something useful, but that Geralt wouldn’t have thought to get for himself.
“Easier said than done,” Jaskier mumbled to himself.
He had just about given up on his search when he found a small saddlebag, perfect for Geralt’s various potions and herbs. He knew that Geralt’s existing bag was in a sad state, though the man would never think to notice. Plus, if Geralt was sour over not needing a gift, he could always say it was for poor Roach, which usually was enough to quiet Geralt’s grumbling. He spoiled that horse like she was a human child.
It was almost nightfall when Jaskier made his way to his lodgings, waving goodnight to the shopkeeper and pressing through the crowd forming outside the taverns and pubs. He allowed himself a small smile. He would miss the familiar roar of the city at night. But there were other songs to sing, and other places to gain inspiration. Absence did make the heart grow fonder, so they said.
He reached his apartment and smiled widely when he saw a familiar cloaked figure blinking up at the sign as though it had personally offended him.
“Geralt! May I ask what my door did to offend you so, my friend?”
Geralt glanced over at him, his face as annoyingly neutral as always. “I knocked.”
Jaskier bit back a laugh. “Yes, well, as you can see, I wasn’t at home. I suppose you’ll forgive me my tardiness once you see my present for you?”
Geralt’s brow furrowed as Jaskier dug through his satchel. “You didn’t need to get me anything.”
“Of course not, dear witcher. Would you believe I wanted to?”
He handed the bag to him and watched as Geralt stared at it as though it were about to come to life and bite him.
“The traditional thing to do when someone gives you a gift is to say thank you. Oh you’re so welcome, Geralt, my dearest darlingest friend, whatever would I do without-”
“Jaskier.”
“Yes, what would you do without Jaskier!”
Geralt shot him a withering glance, though Jaskier noted the way he carefully folded the fabric back into its cloth.
He hid a smile at that and looked back at Geralt. “Well, I don’t suppose you would like to come in for one last night of comfort before hitting the road?”
--
From then on, the sight of Geralt tucking away his wares into that pouch Jaskier bought him filled him with pride, and he had to admit the feeling was a bit heady. So he continued on providing little gifts as much as he could afford it. He usually waved it off as something he was already buying, or something to share, but he loved those moments when Geralt would let his shoulders drop a tiny bit as he bit into a honey cake, the soft smile he got after Jaskier got him a cooling salve for his scars. Little, practical things that soothed the part of him that yearned to be useful to Geralt, to be worth keeping around.
It was that slight sense of hubris, he supposed, that led him to his latest gift. Geralt had been fussing with his hair more often lately, huffing when it fell out of the tie he kept it in and into his face. Jaskier reasoned that it was going to become a safety hazard sooner than later, so when he saw a lovely amber hair tie, he couldn’t resist buying it, an extra spring in his step as he made his way back to where Geralt was selling some monster parts.
“Ready to go?” he asked, following along quickly when Geralt merely nodded and turned away from the crowd and back towards the road.
“Geralt, please, not all of us have quite your stride.”
“Hmm. You should work on that.”
Jaskier huffed. “Is that any way to treat me? And here I bought you a gift, but I suppose I’ll just keep it for myself since you insist on insulting me so-”
Geralt stopped so abruptly Jaskier had to dig his heels in so hard they hurt. “I didn’t need anything.”
Jaskier rolled his eyes fondly. “Gifts are hardly ever needed, Geralt. Surely you know that by now.”
“What is it?”
Jaskier hummed and began walking past him. “Well, you just said you didn’t want anything, so…”
“I...want to see it.”
“Oh?”
“...yes.”
He debated teasing Geralt further, but eventually relented, leading Geralt over to a rock where they could sit. He handed Geratl the pack, watching eagerly as he unwrapped it.
Geralt ran his hand over it, turning it over and examining it. Jaskier could hardly stomach the silence, so he began rambling. “It’s a hair tie. Because yours was starting to wear out. But, if I’ve overstepped, you can just-”
“Would you help me with it?”
He looked over and saw Geralt looking at him, a strangely vulnerable expression on his face. “Of course. Back to the inn first?”
Geralt nodded, and when Jaskier turned back, whatever he’d seen on his face was gone, back to the neutral look he usually wore.
They made it back to the small room they’d managed to procure with the coin from Geralt’s last run in with a nest of ghouls. He waited until Geralt was seated at the edge of the bed before kneeling behind him with the new tie.
He loosened Geralt’s hair from its original tie, running his fingers through the strands. It really would be nice to braid sometime, but he imagined Geralt would be averse to that, so he contented himself with brushing it out with his fingers, before gathering it in a twist to pull up by his nape.
He felt Geralt tremble slightly under his fingers, a soft gasp as his finger brushed over the sensitive glands in his neck.
“Sorry,” he muttered, knowing that was an intimate touch shared between lovers. He doubted Geralt very much appreciated being touched so. Jaskier resolved to being better at keeping his hands to himself. He had no idea what Geralt’s preferences were towards other alphas, or even if he was interested. He had never seen him with anyone except at brothels. Though Jaskier’s tastes were indiscriminate across subgenders, he had learned the hard way it was best not to assume.
He made quick work of the rest of Geralt’s hair, making sure it was secure. “Too tight?” he asked, pulling away to look at his handiwork.
Geralt’s voice sounded tight when he answered. “It’s fine.”
“Well….good! Happy to help. What do you say we go find some dinner, and I’ll see about singing for it, eh?”
He didn’t wait for Geralt’s answer, suddenly too full of nervous energy. He grabbed his lute, only waiting for the sound of Geralt’s footsteps to follow.