Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“Oh come on!” the man says again. “It’ll be quick, look, it’s not a big issue and I have to get to work, I can’t postpone that meeting, you understand?”
“I’m sorry Mr. White but there are other patients that feel just the same, that have been waiting for just as long or longer. We are doing our utmost so that a doctor can have a look at your leg as soon as possible.”
Privately, Geralt can’t help but think that maybe, just maybe, if it’s ‘not a big issue’, the guy should have thought about not bothering the people at the ER with it because everyone could be having a much better day that way.

“But that’s simply not true! They took that man to see a doctor as soon as he arrived, I saw it! And I’ve been waiting for hours! How comes you take his issues more seriously, hm?”

Geralt exhales. Slowly. He inhales.

“I’m sorry the circumstances make you feel that we are not taking your issue seriously. I assure you, we are. But this is an emergency department and sometimes, big emergencies happen and patients need immediate care so we have to make other people wait. I’m sorry but as I said, we are doing our best.”

He doesn’t give him a chance to answer as he closes the door that separates the waiting area from the actual workspace. Geralt sighs. It’s nine in the morning and for some reason the waiting room is already packed with annoyed, aggressive people and on top of it, within the last hour, three real emergencies have come in in short succession without giving them a minute to breathe. It seems that minute is about to be postponed even further because Triss, the doctor in charge of the department, is approaching him with hasty steps.

“Ah, Geralt, wonderful. Mr. Wells has decided to take a little stroll; I need a hand to get him back onto the gurney. He also, somehow, has shit all over himself. Room 3, I’m sorry.”

Geralt huffs unhappily and follows Triss to room 3. Poor Mr. Wells is not at fault here. He has a broken hip which he has likely forgotten about due to his severe dementia and the pain killers doing their job. Probably he had gotten up in search of a toilet, unaware that he is not able to walk currently and unaware also, that he is at a hospital and not at home with his long deceased sweetheart Eleanor.

“Eleanor?” he calls out hopefully, no sooner that they enter the room.
This is one of the worst parts of his job, Geralt thinks. It’s just too fucking sad.
“Yes, yes, exactly.” says Triss.
“Eleanor!”
“We’ve got a bit of a mess here, don’t we? Come on, William, let’s get you back to bed.”

Triss addresses the patient using his first name, gently. Geralt isn’t sure if this was part of her training at some point or if she’s just a natural with the dement ones. He has seen other, older doctors act a lot less competent around elderly patients. Well, maybe that’s one reason why Triss is head of the department at her relatively young age. Together, they manage to get the old man back onto the gurney though Geralt is forced to snatch the patients wrists in a firm grip to keep him from angrily lashing out at Triss when she helps getting his broken hip situated.

“Thank you, Geralt” she says, before she very briefly wrinkles her nose in an uncannily unprofessional way. “And sorry for leaving you with this to clean up but I have to get to my patient in room 5.
“Don’t worry”, he waves her off.

Between washing the worst (meaning the excrements) off the old man who is still calling out for Eleanor, putting a cast on the arm of one very hyperactive 10-year-old and trying to talk sense into a patient that wants to leave the emergency room despite likely suffering from a dangerous acute coronary syndrome at that very moment, the angry masses in the waiting area keep Geralt on his feet.

He barely notices how lunchtime approaches and goes past until Rachel (one of his favourite colleagues) strolls past, munching on a cereal bar. Sweat is pearling on her skin but otherwise she looks as put together as always, black hair slicked back in a neat bun. She is heading for the hospitals front entrance area.

“Hey, Rachel, that’s the wrong direction for lunch” Geralt says.
“Have to pick up the new interns for the upcoming rotation”.
Geralt frowns. But before he can complain about the doctors letting the nurses do their work, Rachel continues: “Triss wanted to go pick them up herself but she is busy with the Polytrauma in number 1.” She waves and is on her way.

Why the hell are the new doctors coming at lunchtime anyways? Shouldn’t they have been there in the morning? Then Geralt realises that Triss has probably asked them to come a bit later when she realised what hell would break loose in the ER this morning, faced with the overcrowded waiting area. She is kind like that. And they would just have stood in the way anyways.

Geralt has heard talk that one of them is barely in his second year, something with the rotation schedules in internal medicine having gone sideways. Poor guy. Not that the others would be much better off. ER tends to be a shock for all of them at first, as eager as they are when arriving.

Well, that is decidedly a problem for later and also, strictly speaking, not his problem at all. For now, if Rachel is babysitting the Rookies and Hannah is probably busy with Triss in room 1, that means there are far too many patients for Geralt to attend to. He sighs (today is a day for sighing) and basically inhales two cereal bars before making his way back down the corridor.

Still chewing, he enters room 3 again.
“Hello William”, he says. “What do you say we get this gurney of yours out in the hallway, hm?”
Three other gurneys are lining up there, all patients waiting to be taken down the hallway for an X-ray.

“Who of you came here last?” Geralt asks.
The young woman sitting on the third gurney reluctantly waves at him. “That would be me. Why?”
“I’m sorry to ask this of you”, Geralt says. “But it’s unusually busy and we’re very short on staff today. This one here”- he gestures down at Mr. Wells - ”cannot remember that he is injured and will likely try to get up again at some point. Could you press this button next to you on the wall to call me if he moves to stand up? And maybe try talking to him until I’m there?”

The woman looks a little taken aback but still nods.
”Thank you a lot, really!” Geralt says and then rushes onwards. He loves his job, especially in contrast to what he did before but also in general. He really loves his job. It’s just difficult to remember at times.

* * *

It’s getting more and more difficult to remember when Geralt tries to change out of his scrub shirt without getting his hair in contact with the vomit he is basically drenched in. To make matters worse, he is standing in front of the staff room in the middle of the fucking hallway of the staff section.

Because the bathroom is occupied and Alex, the paediatrician who happened to be inside the supplies room as Geralt entered it had taken one look at him and had immediately ushered him out.
“That looks so freakin’ contagious I don’t even wanna know. Clothes bin in the hallway, that’s not going inside here.”

Geralt can really see his point, sadly, and at least Alex is friendly enough to get him a shirt his size and put it on the table next to the wash basin in the hallway. Of course, of fucking course, this is the moment he hears Triss down the hall, his head still stuck in the shirt as she says:
“Also, you haven’t met our paediatrician, Alex, maybe he’s in the staff room, I think I just saw how he… oh, Geralt, well that’s certainly one way to greet our new colleagues!”

Geralt can feel the heat rise to his face as he finally rips the shirt over his head. He is met with four pairs of eyes that stare at his bare chest a little impolitely. Triss (with a sly grin on her face) and behind her a tiny blond woman with a freckled nose (yes, internal medicine; that would be her), a lanky, dark haired man (absolute douchebag – not to judge on a first impression but … well) and … a man with the prettiest eyes Geralt has seen in his life. And he has been in a relationship with Yennefer so…

The man looks very young between the long lashes, the slightly dishevelled hair and the cute blush on his cheekbones. This can’t be one of the doctors. Maybe they’re filming some sort of Grey’s anatomy thing in the building and he just accidentally ended up here instead of where all his other gorgeous acting colleagues are. Geralt realises belatedly that he has been staring back a little too intensely and quickly turns to put the disgusting shirt in the bin.

“Hi, I’m Geralt. Nurse.” He feels how flushed his face must look and it does not make him happy.
“Sorry to stand in the hallway like this, bathroom’s occupied and I didn’t want to contaminate anything with… this” – he wrinkles his nose and nods in the direction of the bin.

Triss looks torn between leaving him to clean up in dignity and just introducing the new staff members now, despite the awkward situation. Pretty eyes makes the decision for her.
“Hi Geralt” he says and gods, that voice is just as beautiful as the rest. “I’m Julian Pankratz. But please call me Jaskier. I’m an intern in internal medicine, about to start my rotation here.”
Geralt tries to give him an encouraging smile and also tries his best to ignore the way the lovely man is still blushing, eyes flickering down to his chest and quickly away again.

“I’m Essi Daven, third year in orthopaedic surgery”, the blond one goes next, smiling.
Huh. So much for first impressions and prejudice and all.
“Valdo Marx, internal medicine” the third one snarls in a bored voice without so much as looking in Geralt’s direction.
Yeah no. Sometimes first impressions were exactly right.
“Well, nice to meet you. I’m sure we’ll see each other around the next days.”

They nod and let Triss usher them towards the staff room with some words about letting Geralt get rid of the vomit in his hair in peace. He takes a look in the mirror. Oh no, for god’s sake. 

* * *

Honestly, Geralt had been pretty sure the day couldn’t get any worse at this point. A dangerous thing to think. For a little while, it’s actually all fine. It’s only when he passes by the screen showing the waiting patients and their triage categories that he notices a name that has been there all day now.

Andrew White, leg pain, tick bite. That man is still waiting?! Now he does actually feel kind of sorry for him, even if he had been a pain in the ass all morning. Room 4 apparently is free at the moment. Geralt doesn’t find any doctor but resolves to do something he rarely does just get the man to room three. He’ll just fetch the first doctor he comes across and get them to spend a minute looking at that tick bite, prescribe some antibiotics and finally let the guy get on with his day.

When he opens the door to the waiting area though, he’s greeted by panic.
“Please a doctor, we need a doctor!”
Geralt tries to find the source of the woman’s distress.
“Doctor please, that man, he’s not well, I don’t know what’s wrong!”
“Not the doctor” Geralt grunts. “But let me through please.”

The group of worried people parts for him and there he is, Andrew White. He is very pale, clutching at his chest and his breathing is, mildly put, distressed. It only takes one look at him for Geralt to make a very painful realisation.
“Mr White, I’m gonna be back with a doctor immediately, ok? We’ve got you, you’re gonna be ok!”

He makes a run for the doctor’s office and barges in without knocking. Only the pretty, blue eyed Rookie is there, staring at him a little spooked.

“Where’s Triss?” Geralt asks.
“Went somewhere with Valdo and a geriatric patient who got out of control. ICU probably… or psychiatry.”
“Fuck”, Geralt says. “Any other doctor here?”
Jaskier shakes his head.
Fuck again.
“Thoracic pain and dyspnoea, probably pulmonary emboly in the waiting area, you come with me then.”
“Fucketifuckshit” Jaskier mutters while jumping to his feet.

Although the situation really isn’t funny at all, Geralt has to snort a little at that. They make a run for the waiting area, Geralt picking up a gurney and a body board on the way. Before they reach the door, he turns to Jaskier.

“Ever treated one?”
Jaskier shakes his head.
“Okay. You’ve got this, alright? What do we do first?”
Jaskier blinks at him. “Check his Wells score to see whether that’s the likeliest diagnosis, get him down the hall for a CT if we’re sure.”
Geralt continues walking, speaking in a low voice. “Great. Check his legs. He’s triaged tick bite but I’m guessing it’s lice and flees here.”

When they get to the patient it takes a moment for everyone to make space for them and the gurney.
“Mr..” Jaskier starts and Geralt realises he hasn’t mentioned his name.
“White” he says.
“Mr White, I’m Doctor Pankratz. We’ll get you on this gurney now, okay? You’ll be alright.”

The body board turns out to be unnecessary, together they manage to get the small man on the gurney quite easily. As soon as they are through the doors of room 3, Geralt gets him in a slightly better position and sorts out the oxygen support before fastening the monitoring.

“I’ll have a look at your legs briefly”, Jaskier says as he carefully moves the (thankfully) loose trousers up to the knees on both sides. As expected, the patient’s right leg is significantly bigger than the other one, a little blueish, the skin tight over his flesh. There also is an erythema migrans, to be fair.
“I’m calling radiology”, Jaskier says. “Let’s get him there”.

Wordlessly, Geralt prepares some morphine and puts it into Jaskier’s hand. “This is 2.5 mg” he says.
Jaskier’s eyes go wide and he nods twice. His hands are trembling, the phone wedged between his shoulder and ear still only beeping through the line. Geralt shakes his head at Jaskier’s hands and places an IV line in his stead. At least, Jaskier is steady enough to apply the medication.

Geralt speaks soothingly to their patient while they get moving, tries his best not to let his worry show. What on earth is wrong with this day. He’s got an absolute high risk patient in front of him and he’s with the single most inexperienced doctor of the ER

“Are you serious?!” Jaskier shrieks into the phone. He puts a halt to their run for the radiology department and looks at Geralt. “They just got someone into the scanner, suspecting stroke.”
Geralt groans internally. He tries his very very best to stay calm. “How are your echocardiography skills?” He’s not optimistic and therefore quite surprised when Jaskier nods.
“Where’s the device?”

They get their patient back to room 3 and Geralt gets the ultrasound device for Jaskier.
“I’m calling Triss” he informs Jaskier on the way back in.
She’s not picking up. Why is she not picking up?! Jaskier fiddles with the ultrasound and really doesn’t look too confident with what he is doing. Geralt calls Triss again.
“What is it?” her strained voice greets him the same moment that Jaskier says:
“There you are you little fucker!”

Geralt is briefly speechless until he realises Jaskier is looking at the ultrasound screen a little triumphantly and then to him, expectantly. On the screen of the machine, Geralt can make out something vaguely heart shaped (in the anatomical sense, obviously).
“That’s white noise to me, Jaskier, dammit, take a picture and save it!”
“Geralt?” Triss asks.
“Pulmonary emboly, room 3.” Geralt says. “Only Jaskier is here and the CT is blocked.
”Triss curses. “Coming. Be there in 2.”

When Triss arrives, the whole situation loses a lot of its scariness. She looks at the ultrasound pictures, at the monitoring screen and then immediately prepares the medication to get that – apparently enormous – Thrombus in check. They put Mr. White in a surveillance spot in the hallway and pull the curtains to protect his privacy as best as possible there.

“And another ICU bed, they’re not gonna be pleased”, Triss mumbles as they leave their patient. “Jaskier, that was great work. I’m sorry your first day had to go like this. I have to go back to the ICU briefly. But we will have a debrief of this situation tomorrow morning. Don’t forget he actually also needs antibiotics for his borreliosis. Okay?”
Jaskier nods shakily.

Then Geralt and Jaskier are alone in corridor. Before Geralt can process what’s happening, Jaskier is pressed to his chest, arms slung tightly around his body. Geralt is so perplexed that he merely raises a hand to pat at the man’s shoulders a little awkwardly. The body pressed against his is solid and warm, Jaskier’s head turned to the side, face resting against Geralt’s clavicle. From this close, Geralt can smell chamomile and wildflowers. Jaskier’s shampoo probably? It’s not an unpleasant smell at all.

“Thank you, Geralt!” Jaskier murmurs. He seems to realise the way he just randomly threw himself into the arms of his co-worker and extricates himself from the embrace, blushing. “Sorry, that was a bit… sorry. But just … thank you! You are amazing and that would have been an absolute nightmare without you in there.”

Geralt is not good with compliments or open appreciation. He shrugs.
“Just did my job.” That sounded a little gruff. Why does he never have the words when it’s not a patient he’s talking to? He clears his throat. “You okay? That was a lot for a first day here, I guess.”

“Yes, yeah, no, it’s fine.” Jaskier stammers and blushes even worse. “Just the adrenalin. Gonna go sit down for a minute, I think.” He waves a bit funnily and turns to enter the doctors’ office. “I’m not here if there’s another major crisis in the next five minutes, okay?” he says.
Geralt smiles a little when the door shuts behind the other man.

Chapter Text

When Geralt arrives for his shift the next morning, he is relieved to find the waiting area much emptier than the day before. He drops his stuff in the cramped area where the ER nurses keep their things and quickly changes into his scrubs in the bathroom. Really, the architect who has designed this hospital must be an ignorant asshole and stupid on top of it. They haven’t given a thought to the necessity of changing rooms in the ER. And apparently they also didn't realise that there is a necessity of nurses in the ER at all.

Still better than gastro ward A, Geralt supposes, as the staff there has got changing rooms but no bathroom instead (as Rachel once had told him in horror).

And then there are the doctors who all just change together in their tiny office, regardless of gender and position. Geralt shudders at the thought. He really doesn’t want to be confronted with naked Triss, not at work, not after that brief fling following his break-up with Yen. They’ve left that far behind and he’s very grateful for the clear distance and professionalism between them now.

When Geralt returns to his bag to stuff his keys in there, Rachel has just arrived and a coffee is waiting for him on the shelf above the bags. And it’s a nice coffee from the café opposite the street, not a shitty one from the ERs staff kitchen.

Geralt raises his eyebrows at Rachel. “For me? Thanks!”
“Not from me. He did ask me how you like it though.” She wiggles her eyebrows at the innuendo, eyes sparkling.

Geralt frowns and takes the cup. ‘Hero of the day :)’ it says in messy letters on the paper cup. He looks at Rachel without any sign of understanding.
“Geralt, don’t be dense” she says. “The new baby intern of course, this Julian guy”.
“Jaskier” Geralt says immediately, without thinking.
“Yeah, that one.” Geralt doesn’t quite know what to think. “Hmm. That’s … nice” he says.

Rachel snickers and he takes a sip from the coffee. Cappuccino, oat milk and the perfect amount of … yes, it’s brown sugar.
“You certainly weren’t short on that description.” he says and Rachel just shrugs, smiling.
“You could thank me with a coffee tomorrow.”
Geralt grumbles and goes to check the waiting area.

When he comes back, he overhears the doctors’ morning debrief in the kitchen.
“Eh, neat picture Julian.” Valdo’s voice is dripping with sarcasm. “Trying to get a good look at the ribs there or what was the purpose again?”

Triss’s sharp voice interferes. “We are not in cardiology here, Valdo. That picture shows the Thrombus perfectly. Jaskier did not lose any time on petty details, the patient surely profits from that. Also, this is not a debrief to talk Jaskier down but instead to assess what went wrong with that whole case and what we can improve to prevent an unfortunate situation like that from happening again. Because we cannot be sure that everyone does as well as Jaskier did, on their first day and alone at that.”

“I wasn’t alone.” Jaskier cuts in. “And thank the gods for that. If it hadn’t been for Geralt, I’d have been completely lost”.

Geralt can’t say why he is still so surprised to hear that. Jaskier is just that genuine of a person it seems. Hopefully, the system doesn’t break him too fast.

“Right”, says Triss. “I’m sure Geralt played a crucial role in how well this case went in the end, he’s competent and experienced. However, the nurses do not decide about the final diagnosis and neither do they perform echocardiography, not even when they’re Geralt.”

Geralt feels himself getting a little flustered at Triss’s words. He hurries to get away and find something to do when he realises he’s really just eavesdropping there.

“Stop worrying, Jaskier. You were put in a horrible and frightening situation and you did a good job anyways.”

The rest of her little speech gets drowned out by the sounds of Rachel singing while she organizes some boxes of medication that have just arrived.
“Checked over the supplies in the treatment rooms yet?” he asks and then leaves to do just that when she shakes her head at him.

* * *

The week goes on like a late ‘sorry’ from fate for what it had put them through on Monday. Wednesday afternoon, Geralt takes a blood sample Jaskier has requested. The patient is a young woman with abdominal pain. He goes to knock at the doctor’s office after. Jaskier and Alex are inside, chatting about one of Alex’s cases. Their heads turn as he opens the door.
“You probably also want a pregnancy test for Ms Smith, Jaskier?” he asks.
Jaskier just blinks at him for a second. Then his brain catches up. “Oh freakin hell, of course I do. Thank you Geralt!”

On Thursday, there is another 'thank you' coffee waiting for Geralt. It’s got a post-it on it this time and the writing actually is a little more readable.
‘Something sweet for someone sweet :) Hope you don’t hate a little creativity.’
Geralt huffs. This most definitely looks like flirting even to him.

He takes a careful sip from the cup and finds that there is caramel syrup instead of brown sugar. He has never tried it before, mostly because it always seemed more like something for a spoiled teenage girl to order. That’s a shameful reason not to order a damn coffee, he realises. Ciri would have his head for it, just as Rachel and Hannah probably would. Not to mention Yen.

Anyways, he needs to tell Jaskier he doesn’t need to bring him coffee every time he just does his job properly.

Also … rumours about the young doctor have reached even Geralt’s ears by now. He’s not usually one for gossip. Hospitals, however, are fucking gossip machines. And it seems that in his one year here, Jaskier has already managed to cause quite the amount of heartbreak. No wonder, with those eyes.

But Geralt doesn’t need his heart broken (again) and he certainly doesn’t need a fling with someone from the hospital (again) with all that potential for awkwardness and then (again) the gossip. So he does his best to be his usual 'gruff, boring self' (as Yennefer would describe it) around Jaskier. And he really tries to dislike the stupid caramel cappuccino.

* * *

Friday afternoon, he Essi calls for his assistance after examining a two year old boy. Geralt has read the triage info, something with the mother falling down the stairs during an epileptic seizure, her son in her arms.

The thought alone has made him grimace but now that he sees the family, he immediately feels that something is off. Something that makes him want to grimace much more.

Essi meets his eyes as he enters the room with a sewing kit for the small wound on the childs head. He suddenly understands that she did not ask him to bring it because she just wants him to fetch stuff for her like he hasn’t got his own work to do. She wants a second opinion on that weird feeling and the strange backstory. The surgeon just needed an excuse to call him to the room as it seems.

Why him though? Why not a fellow doctor? He gives her a subtle nod nonetheless.
“Alright.” Essi says. “From what I’ve seen we need a picture of your shoulder, Adrian, an X-ray.”
She looks at the parents.
They barely react. “Yes, okay, of course” the mother says after a moment.
The father says nothing. He’s a burly guy with a resting frown and, Geralt cannot help but notice: with blue, swollen knuckles.

Perhaps that guy is the reason Geralt is here instead of Alex or whatever other scrawny doctor. He knows he makes an imposing figure and he wouldn’t begrudge Essi for wanting exactly that with her in this room.
She dismisses him though. “Geralt, would you tell radiology while I see to that head wound?”
“Of course” he answers and only the brief panicked look she shoots him as he leaves tells him he hasn’t imagined things in there.

He leaves the door open on the way out. First he gives a short notice to security, asking them to keep an eye on room 2. Then he prepares the X-ray request so Essi only needs to fill in her digital signature to send it.

He calls radiology. “Have a look at the child”, he says, reluctantly. “So far, Dr. Daven wants an X-ray of the left shoulder but maybe ask her to reassess when she’s not glared at by the father. The kid didn’t move any limb as I would expect it from a two year old.”

Reality gets the better of him for a moment and he has to fight down the urge to return to room 2 and punch that man in the face. He tries to stop thinking for a moment and focuses on the sounds around him. He closes his eyes.

There's a monitor beeping somewhere. Repetitive, familiar. There's footsteps. Doors shutting. He recognizes the spiral and brings it to a halt, just like he has learned to do in therapy. This helpless anger will get him nowhere. And they don’t have any proof for anything yet.

The radiologist at the other end is quiet for a long moment. “That sounds bad. But maybe ask her to send the demand for everything immediately to avoid trouble with the administration people.”
Geralt rolls his eyes. He doesn’t feel like telling a surgeon to overthink their diagnostic skills. From his experience, it would surely be more effective for another doctor to comment here. At least it’s Essi. She seemed nice enough so far, maybe she’ll listen.

Said surgeon is a little out of breath when she meets him in front of the computer in the hallway.
“Geralt, what do I do?” she whispers. “I’m sure he hit her and the boy but she denied any violence, kept telling that story with the stairs, said she wouldn’t be examined without her husband in the room.”

“Breathe, Essi”, he says. “You’re not in this alone. First things first, you need a full body x-ray of the boy, not just the shoulder.” Essi’s decomposed state gives him the courage to actually just put that thought out there.
“But he’s so young, so tiny, the radiation exposure…” she trails off as she realises the absurdity of that thought. “Right. You’re right, we’ll have to have a look at everything anyways from what I’ve seen of the boy.” She is not good at suppressing the emotion in her voice.

Despite himself, Geralt finds himself giving her shoulder a friendly squeeze when she sighs.
“You’ve got this.” he says. “Let me find Alex for you, he’s got experience with these cases. When you have sent the x-ray demand, you can call the social worker. They’ll come down here and help handle everything. I’ll bring Adrian to radiology in the meantime and then you only need to make sure they don’t leave the hospital. You’ll certainly find a reason on the x-ray.”

Geralt hesitates a moment. The hospital has got security staff for a reason, after all.
He says it anyways: “And if you find yourself alone with the family, especially the father, you can always find a reason to have me in the room with you, okay? Security is already informed too.”

Essi looks up, surprise on her face. “I’m not afraid of the father, I’ve been winning medals in martial arts all my life.” Then she pulls Geralt into a strong hug. “But Jaskier was right, you really are a treasure. Thank you!”

Geralt is perplexed. What is it with the hugging lately? None of his co-workers have done that before. And why did she want him there then? Because Jaskier told her… what exactly?

Chapter Text

The early autumn air feels crisp on Geralt’s face when he steps out of his flat to go for a run. On a Saturday, he’d normally enjoy a lazy morning, sleep in, maybe read a bit before he’d drag himself out of bed for his sport routine. Ciri is in town though. She is staying at Yennefer’s but they’re all meeting up at lunchtime. So, Geralt is already up because he still wants to get some annoying life stuff done before meeting them, laundry, cleaning…

He’s looking forward to seeing Ciri. Their little girl. Though she isn’t little anymore, wasn’t little in the first place when they adopted her. Wild times.

He and Yen had only just been half a year into their relationship, when his friends Pavetta and Duny had died in an accident. He had never thought something like that would ever actually happen when he had agreed to care for Ciri, would the circumstances arise.

Ciri was fifteen at the time and barely remembered him. They hadn’t seen each other in ages. But it had all turned out so much better than he ever could have thought. Ciri needed someone. Geralt had never thought he’d want someone to need him. But Yennefer had always wanted children. And Geralt had been so in love with Yennefer. It was only logical for them to buy a house, take Ciri in, become a family.

The romance with Yen had burned out very quickly, things in the bedroom going sideways because of their fucked up communication and bottled up feelings. Even when they did talk … some things can’t be healed by a talk and some apologies. Some feelings go deeper than words can reach.

But they still bonded over their love for Ciri. They made it their mission to help her through her grief and support her in getting back on track, finishing school and at last: starting med school. The three years they had together were by far the happiest in Geralt’s life.

Being orphans themselves, with terrible experiences in their respective pasts, he and Yen had quickly come to an unspoken agreement about their adoptive daughter. They wanted her to have the happiest life possible and they’d do everything in their power to ensure that she felt loved and at home with them. There were quiet, cuddly afternoons on the couch, adventure holidays, concerts, riding lessons, huge birthday parties… all of it.

It was only when Ciri moved out that he and Yen finally admitted that she was all that had held them together. There was a kind of love. But it was not enough to make either of them happy on it’s own.

They split up amicably. When they told Ciri, she only nodded and said she knew and they deserved more. Geralt had actually teared up a bit at that (Yen had made fun of him of course). They sold the house. Went back to their old lives essentially.

Sometimes, to Geralt, these years with Yen and Ciri feel like a weird, utopic daydream. He’ll get to be back in that dream for a bit this weekend. When he gets home and takes his phone out to stop the podcast he’d been listening to, there’s a text from Ciri and one from Yen. Ciri asks if he’s up for lunch at their old favourite Pizza place. ‘For gods sake, please tell her any place but that horrible, greasy fast food place’, Yens text says. Geralt smiles. It’s gonna be a great weekend.

* * *

“So I’ve noticed you don’t really have lunch if you’re not harassed into it by your colleagues”, Jaskier says. It’s Monday … well not Monday morning anymore and Jaskier is leaning on the wall next to where Geralt is preparing a little tablet for a blood sample.
“Hmm” Geralt says.
“Come have lunch with me!”
That man is infuriating.

In the morning, there had been a coffee saying ‘You are an absolute treasure’. Geralt hasn’t reacted to the coffees yet. In all honesty, he isn’t sure what to say.

Sure, he wants to tell Jaskier that this isn’t necessary. Also, he’d like to kindly tell him to fuck off and just have his emergency department fling with someone else please. But on the other hand, he finds himself disappointed with the thought of never finding a coffee cup with some sweet words on the shelf again.

Even if it is just a meaningless flirt by someone who is just flirting with everyone, it’s still nice. It makes him feel special. Sometimes Geralt hates what a simple creature he is. Honestly, he wouldn’t be surprised if the next cup said “good boy” or something silly like that. And he hates that some part of him actually feels weak at the idea. Geralt is very much not in the mood to have his heart broken again. He should say no to lunch. Jaskier’s open, smiling face makes his resistance crumble though.
“After the blood sample”, he says.
“Lovely! Be here in five!” Jaskier says with a wide grin and skips – fucking skips – over to the doctors’ office.

* * *

The canteen is crowded and the food is mediocre at best but Geralt has to admit it’s better than not having lunch at all (or just a couple of cereal bars). They manage to snatch a small table and sit down with their tablets. Geralt notices belatedly that he is now forced to face the pretty man for at least the duration of their lunch. He firmly tells himself to keep the staring in check. It’s not easy.

Jaskier doesn’t seem fazed by the amount of noise and mixing voices around them and just chatters away as if sensing that it does wonders on Geralt’s unease. He talks about a funny patient he’s seen this morning, some animal Instagram star that Essi tried to make him download Instagram for and then randomly goes into a rant about everything at the canteen always containing onions.

All the while Geralt is free to stare. He stares. At Jaskier’s wavy brown hair, turning honey-gold when catching the sunlight. At his plush lips, curving around fits of giggles when he laughs about his own story. At the way Jaskier’s hands move while he is speaking. He is so expressive. His hands themselves are very handsome too.

“Anyways” Jaskier says. “Here I am, wanting to get to know you and all I do is ramble on.” he laughs a little self-deprecatingly but returns to flirtatious in a heartbeat: “Though I do love the way you just sit in the corner and brood”.

Geralt tries to find something to say to that. He feels his insides tighten, tries to remember how this thing worked again, conversation. It would have been easier, had Jaskier just asked a question. But then again, there’s a lot of wrong questions to ask Geralt, not much of his life that he’d like to share with someone he barely knows. So probably it’s for the better like this. Only now Geralt has to think of something to say, please, just something.

“I wouldn’t have picked you for someone who needs to be pressured into Instagram” is what he comes out with. He cringes inwardly, thinks of his therapist again and then cringes again, outwardly.
Jaskier laughs which is very friendly of him.
“Sorry, that’s bound to come across in a wrong way.” Geralt tries. “I don’t mean... I just. You’re …”
Use your brain, Geralt. Questions. That’s what his therapist had said. Make it a question.
“Why don’t you have instagram? Essi’s baby hippopotamus not worth it? Or do you just prefer TikTok or whatever it is at the moment?”

Jaskier smiles at him. It somehow feels like some sort of reward for the effort Geralt just made and it makes all the awkwardness worth it.

“Oh, many reasons. Mostly just the time that is not worth it. I’m struggling already to fit a bit of life inside this thing called adulthood next to work and sleep. I really don’t want to waste that bit, staring at the lives other people pretend to have in that time. What about you?” - Jaskier’s eyes glitter with mirth - “You strike me as the type to have a carefully curated story and on top, it’s full of mirror selfies from the gym.”

“Ouch” Geralt says smiling. “What if I said there’s no gym? And maybe I’m too old to even know what an Insta story actually is, mind you.”
“Ah Geralt, you can’t fool me, that hair is dyed.”
There they are and it’s totally Geralt’s fault. “I’m afraid no. It’s… there was a… “ He struggles and lands on the most undescriptive word: “… stressful period of time in my life that might have turned me grey a little ... very early.”

Jaskier seems to be speechless for the first time during their lunch. Geralt doesn’t know what to do. Now he has made it all awkward. Why couldn’t he just lie and say it’s dyed? What to do now?

But Jaskier is full of surprises. “I’m sorry, Geralt! I did not assume… That was very insensitive of me, I’m sorry. Maybe rather tell me about the ‘no gym’ thing?”
Geralt coughs to cover up his surprise and insecurity.
“I mean, if that’s a less dangerous topic. Sorry, I…”
“No, don’t worry, it is”, he is fast to stop the other man. “So there’s no gym in the sense of mirror selfies and all. There’s the box. Cross-fit, I mean.”
“Oh, wow”, Jaskier says. “That explains a lot.”
He gestures to Geralt’s… well, to Geralt. Then he seems to catch himself doing that and blushes.

It’s cute, honestly, despite the lingering awkwardness of the situation. And Geralt certainly can appreciate a beautiful person appreciating his body. Although, he reminds himself, he will keep it at that. This will not lead anywhere.

So he ignores the flirting and finds a suitable question.
“Have you ever tried it? Or are you doing any other sports?”
Jaskier laughs. “No cross-fit for me. I like dancing. Try to do my yoga regularly.”
“Hmm. Never really got this yoga hype, to be honest.” Geralt says. “All the breathing and sitting still… just made me anxious when I tried.”
“Well, there’s not a lot of sitting still when I do it.” Jaskier says. “But I’m surprised that you tried, don’t know many men who are open enough. Maybe you tried a style that didn’t suit you?”

Suddenly, they’re deep into a conversation about Yoga and before Geralt knows what’s happening to him, he is agreeing to come along to Jaskier’s Ashtanga Yoga class some time. Not only that but to make matters even worse, he invites Jakier to try cross-fit once again, with him this time because that would be only fair, wouldn’t it?

Hadn’t he just been thinking something like ‘this will not lead anywhere’?

* * *

Geralt is so befuddled, the reality of it doesn't hit him until long after their lunchbreak. He makes the mistake of telling Rachel.
“You’ve got a YOGA DATE with baby intern?” she screeches (unnecessarily loudly considering that they really aren’t in a private space).
“Rachel it is not a date, I’m not even open for dating right now. And he’s just a damn flirt with everyone. Doesn’t mean I can’t go for a sports class with him. Like… as friends.”
He definitely regrets his decision to go to a freaking Yoga class with Jaskier. Telling Rachel about it might be the only thing he regrets even more at the moment.

* * *

Geralt actually manages to forget about the fact that he has got a yoga-not-a-date with Jaskier for some days. The waves of the seasonal flu have reached the city and therefore the ER. It is just as annoying as every year.

Geralt feels like he could jump out of his skin from the sight of the waiting area alone. He doesn’t know how the doctors handle explaining the same shit over and over a hundred times a day.

‘No, you are not dying’. –
’No, please believe me, antibiotics will do no good here’. –
‘Yes exactly, please just stay in bed, hydrate and take some pain killers if you need to’. –

Geralt has long since learned to rule in the reflexive eye roll but sometimes he still just wants to shake some sense into the people. Triss had once admitted to him that she takes kickboxing classes, just for the flu seasons. Just to have some sort of outlet for it. 

Which is why he really gets impressed with Jaskier when he overhears him talking to a patient. He does not sound strained. He also doesn’t roll his eyes when he leaves the room afterwards. Even smiles at Geralt quite light-heartedly when passing by on the hallway. Damn good actor that guy.

Or maybe not. Maybe he just actually is the sweet and genuine person that Geralt has come to see so far. Geralt isn’t one of the blushing nurses in cardiology though and neither one of Jaskier’s superiors that have fallen for his charms if the gossip is to be believed.

Should gossip ever be believed?

Anyways, Geralt is somewhat proud of himself when he declines the next lunch invite. It is with a plausible excuse of too many flu patients waiting for their obligatory blood pressure measurements. He’s proud. Even if the disappointed look on Jaskier’s face does dampen the feeling a bit.

Chapter Text

Geralt cannot believe his eyes when he enters the yoga studio. The evening sun falls in through large windows, painting everything a very becoming shade of gold and especially so… Jaskier.

There he is, stretched out lazily on his yoga mat in white, short, tight (oh gods, don’t stare Geralt, don’t stare!) yogapants. He’s also wearing a soft green tank top, showing off his broad, subtly defined shoulders and a downright indecent amount of chest hair… Geralt’s eyes snap away from Jaskier to take in the rest of the room before his thoughts can get away with him.

Two other participants are already there, chatting with a woman who must be the yoga teacher. She is very beautiful, all dark, shining skin and this aura of strength and confidence that Geralt is just… Well, he’s a sucker for it. Jaskier, unfortunately, has got it too, in a way.

“Ah, Geralt” He jumps up and pulls Geralt in for a brief hug. “Nice to see you, I’m so glad you actually came!”
“Well, I said I’d do so, didn’t I?” Geralt fumbles with the seam of his simple black t-shirt a little self-consciously, then catches himself doing it and lets his hand fall away. He can’t say he’s especially thrilled to be in a room full of unfairly attractive people that will all watch him struggle through a handful of silly positions. Probably get an anxiety attack during the breathing exercises too.
Jaskier beams at him though. “I guess you did” he says, warmly. “Come on, let’s introduce you to Nadine!”

* * *

The session is not what Geralt expected. Just as Jaskier promised, there is not much sitting around. None actually. It’s intense.

The weird breathing that Nadine asks them to use if possible all the time, Geralt just leaves out. He’d told her about struggling with that before the class began and she’d been very understanding and kind and had told him he should start with just following the class in a way that worked for him.

At some point it gets a little too athletic for Geralt, like when there is full planking out of nowhere. Full planking! Geralt rests in the position Nadine told him to use in case he can’t follow something and watches with amazement as the class follows Nadine’s instructions. Jaskier is not doing the full plank either but he holds a position that is one of the last steps on the way. Geralt tries not to stare at the droplets of sweat that are forming between the man’s shoulder blades. He really tries.

At the end of the class he feels a little like he does after a good cross-fit session but also very different in a way. Mostly it feels like a truck has run over him and someone has pulled all his limbs in directions they’re not supposed to be pulled in. Just to set him back together and then tell him to lie still for ‘Shawasana’.

This is where it stops working for him. The room is too quiet. His thoughts are so loud, all over the place. The air keeps getting warmer, too warm, burning. The light smell of sweat transforms into the metal tang of blood in his mind. The phantom sensations fill his senses, making his thoughts race.

He stops telling himself to look away from Jaskier. Maybe looking will distract him from the loud, loud silence. But that actually just feels very creepy because Jaskier is lying there, eyes closed, totally engulfed in this ‘Shawasana’ thing. Or maybe he’s just napping. Anyways, staring feels awkward.

So Geralt gets up and leaves the room as quietly as he can after a brief eye contact with Nadine, only his water bottle and his phone on him. He paces in front of the door, then actually manages to sit down when he hears some people further down in the building, chit-chatting happily.

It’s only a couple of minutes before the class ends and Nadine opens the door. She briefly checks in with Geralt who smiles as reassuringly as he can. He tells her the class was great and he just has anxiety issues with quiet situations sometimes, it’s nothing and he is fine.

Jaskier rolls up his mat and joins them. “Glad to hear, you had me a little worried there.”
He smiles at Geralt and fuck, his eyes look even bluer than usually. It must be the way his skin is a little flushed and sweaty and the whole Yoga energy basically seems to vibrate through his body.

They talk a little on the way out of the building. Jaskier is eager to hear how much better Geralt liked this class compared to the one he tried last time. He is even more thrilled when Geralt tells him that – even if it is still not really the thing for him – he is thinking about including some elements into his usual training.
“Well, I’m excited to try what it is that you usually do”, Jaskier says, grinning happily, and Geralt realises that he actually means it. And he has already offered it, hasn’t he? Not really a way out now.
“Sure, I’ll ask the people at the box if I can bring someone without membership. That was really nice of Nadine.”

* * *

When Geralt gets home, he strips out of his drenched clothes and steps into the shower. He really hadn’t expected to sweat that much doing Yoga. When the hot water hits his skin, his brain, very sudden and unbidden, supplies him with an image of Jaskier. Jaskier, stepping out of his sports clothes to take a shower. Jaskier, stepping into the shower, his shower, behind him, drops of water catching on his lashes and framing his beautiful eyes, sweaty body pressing against his … Geralt decisively turns the water cold and starts scrubbing his body clean with brutal efficiency. 

* * *

He is on a quiet early shift with Hannah which hasn’t happened in a while. The ER is actually empty – like, really, empty! – so they can have a coffee together, answer some long ignored texts, laze around and… gossip.

“Sooooo”, Hannah says and he already knows he doesn’t like where this is going. “There hasn’t been nearly enough time to discuss the new interns.”
Geralt groans internally.
“Aaand there is such a lot to talk about. Like, he’s hot. What’s your opinion on the matter?”
Geralt wonders if Jaskier actually even has to do anything for all this heartbreak stuff. Maybe he just breaks hearts by existing. Like Geralt’s. Nope, not going there. It’s a stupid little crush, is what it is. That much he can admit.

“He’s … not bad to look at I guess.”
“Isn’t he? And then he is all stern and serious like that…”
Well, certainly, sometimes. Although his usual smiley self is charming, Geralt has seen glimpses of stern, serious Jaskier and he can definitely see the appeal …
“And you wouldn’t think a goatee could look sexy on anyone but – there you go!”
Wait. What? Oh. Really, Hannah? Valdo Marx? Geralt tries to cover up his embarrassment and surprise with a strangled cough.
“Nah”, he eventually manages, “not a particular fan of beards. Also, he’s a disrespectful dick.”
“Oh come on, but that’s half the appeal, no?” Hannah giggles.

Sometimes Geralt wonders if this sort of thing ever happens to straight male colleagues. The women he works with just all made him their gay best friend the minute they realised he was bi. Stress on BI. Not gay. Anyways, Hannah just keeps going.

“You know when they get this fifty shades kind of bad boss look and order you around and then pretend to ignore you and you just get all ‘let me be your good girl pleeease’?”
Geralt rolls his eyes at her but then decides to indulge a little because why the fuck not.
"I certainly do.” he says, dropping his voice a little and Hannah squeals. “Not sexy out of the bedroom though. That just makes him an arsehole.”
“Oh, you have high standards, don’t you?”
“Hannah, I literally only said, arseholes are not sexy to me.”
“And to hear that from a gay man!”
“Hannah!”
“Fine, that was low even by my standards.”
“Also, I’m bi!”
“Yeah, sure, darling.”
“Hannah I literally slept with the head of the department who is – or was, last time I checked – a woman.”

Of course, this is the moment the door to the staff kitchen swings open.
“Things I did not want to know about”, an all too familiar voice mutters and Hannah cackles as Jaskier squeezes past them to pour himself a coffee. He is on his way again immediately, but not without directing a small smirk at Geralt who is blushing furiously.

To his immense relief, Hannah doesn’t seem to have heard about his… not-date with Jaskier. Otherwise he would never hear the end of that story. And even better: Essi interrupts their lazy morning because she needs someone to put a cast on her patient. No more awkward sex talk with his colleague. He will only ever sex talk with Hannah again if she acknowledges that bisexuality exists. That is the logical takeaway from this whole embarrassing incident, Geralt decides.

* * *

Thursday evening rolls around so much faster than expected and Geralt gets more and more insecure about this whole idea of bringing Jaskier to the box. It’s not just a training ground for him. It’s his safe space. And the worst thing: his brothers. Jaskier will meet his brothers. They will meet Jaskier. He doesn’t know which perspective frightens him the most, gods. But he didn’t have the heart to disinvite Jaskier either.

So there he is, waiting for Jaskier in front of the door. The others are already inside: Eskel and Lambert, Lambert’s boyfriend Aiden, their friend Coen as well as Tea and Vea, the two stunning, terrifying women that have joint their training group a year or so ago.

He hesitates, checks the time. But then he spots Jaskier, jogging over the courtyard in his direction, waving. He’s wearing those damn pants again.
“Hi there, sorry I’m late!” Jaskier pulls him into an unexpected hug.
“’s fine” Geralt mumbles, feeling a completely unnecessary blush start to form on his cheeks. It’s just a hug goddammit! It’s the stupid white shorts and Jaskier’s long, lean legs, probably.

“Come meet the others?”
They step inside and Jaskier gives a quiet huff.
“My poor twinkish heart, Geralt! Severe palpitations already, it’s gonna get arrhythmia here, I swear. In more than one way.”
Geralt turns to see Jaskier stare – not at the weights like expected but at Lambert who is, of course, shirtless.
“Please stop eye-fucking my brother?”
“That’s your brother?! Good gods, that gene pool”
What got into Jaskier? This is much more blatant than what Geralt has seen from him so far. Also he doesn’t quite know what to say to that open… compliment?
“Not a gene pool. All adopted.” He shrugs.

Before Jaskier can answer to that, Geralt gets all business, shows him a spot to leave his bag and they finally join the group. Names are exchanged, some friendly nods and welcomes and in no time, they start their training.

It’s only once a week that Geralt trains with a group like this but he has decided to bring Jaskier for this rather than his sessions alone anyways. Less potential for … getting carried away, he had hoped. He kinda regrets it when Eskel catches his eyes and wriggles his eyebrows meaningfully at Jaskier’s backside, then at Geralt again. Geralt could swear Eskel actually considers whistling aloud. He gives him the darkest look he can muster but Eskel just chuckles quietly, of course. It’s just as expected, Geralt can’t decide who’s worse, Jaskier or his brothers.

They launch into the first real exercises after some running and a few minutes of intense rope skipping. Geralt does feel a bit squeamish about the fact that he brought Jaskier here to watch him rope-skipping, yes. Fortunately, that’s just the warm-up. Afterwards, there’s the usual. Weights, tires … he does feel a bit like Jaskier is staring at him, especially when they start doing core exercises on the high bar. There’s this very sudden and unbidden picture of … well. Being suspended like that. In front of Jaskier. Geralt shakes his head at himself. Not going there. Why does his weird subconscious even think Jaskier would be into something like that? Anyways.

He’s not stupid or blind. Jaskier looks at him because he has got a fit body. There are a lot of fit bodies in the room. And he does see his colleague stare at the others too. It is the same thing and Jaskier will probably flirt with each and every single one of them because that’s what he does. And it’s ok and Geralt will not randomly feel jealous about it.

Jaskier can look at Lambert all he likes and Geralt is not going to take his shirt off. Nope. Not like he needs Jaskier to look at him any more than he does. And besides, Ciri has told him about how it can feel really uncomfortable for some women (no matter how strong and badass they look) to be confronted with half-naked men without warning and in in their safe-spaces at that. And there is Tea and Vea and he doesn’t want to ask them about that so – hmm. He’s going to tell Lambert to please put a shirt on again next time.

The exercises get too intense for any complicated contemplation after that. Sometimes he takes a moment to explain something to Jaskier. Sometimes he warns him about posture mistakes that could make an exercise harmful. He doesn’t really manage to get into his training headspace today. It definitely has nothing to do with the staring and nothing at all with a pair of goddamn short white trousers.  

As soon as they have showered and changed, Geralt, his brothers, Aiden and Jaskier make their way to the little terrace outside the box. There is a small self-service bar where they pick up drinks on the way (not beer but actually some of those pseudo-healthy sports drinks).
“By all the gods I don’t believe in!” Jaskier groans. “I think I need to call in sick tomorrow. Won’t be able to move a finger.”
Lambert snickers and Geralt’s dirty look doesn’t get him to shut it. Not that it ever does.
“Goes deeper than those show-off muscles from the gym, eh? No offense.”

Geralt wonders briefly if his brother is a blind idiot. Well, known for a fact, he is an idiot. Geralt wonders if he is blind. To be fair, Lambert hasn’t seen Jaskier do yoga.

“Wouldn’t know, darling”, Jaskier shoots back, unperturbed. “Never been to a gym. If you were wondering about my fabulous butt, that’s what’s left over from ballet training.”

Lambert snorts at the same time as Geralt’s mouth goes very dry, very sudden. He remembers Jaskier saying he liked to dance, he just really hadn’t thought it would be ballet. Why is that so stupidly sexy?

“Can’t say you’re not creative”, Lambert snickers, still unbelieving.
“I’m not joking, you know.” Jaskier still sounds so relaxed and unbothered.
Geralt would long have gotten defensive and annoyed, he thinks, if some random arsehole talked to him like that.
“And how, pray tell, would you bulk up from fuckin’ ballet?! Thought that was more about being good at, you know, spreading your legs and stuff, eh?” Lambert wheezes about his own innuendo.
“Lambert, what is wrong with you today?!” Eskel cuts in before Geralt can.
“Oh, don’t worry”, Jaskier says. “I got this attitude a lot from fellow teenagers at school.” 
Lambert frowns and Aiden giggles with mirth.
“So I know from experience that it’s much faster to give a little demonstration, because it will be easier for Lambert to believe his eyes than to wrangle his brain through the question of how dancing would require muscles, won’t it.” Jaskier keeps his voice saccharine sweet.

The little group watches in baffled silence as he toes off his shoes and takes a slow breath. He stands on his tiptoes and then pushes further up, till he is actually – like literally – on his damn tiptoes. Geralt can’t stop staring. The muscles on Jaskier’s long legs pull tight and then… he lifts a leg. Balancing the whole of his body on what amounts to maybe three toes, still holding his drink in his left hand. His legs quiver a little but apart from that it all looks freakin’ effortless.

Geralt feels breathless. He licks his dry lips and sees Jaskier’s eyes flicker to his mouth. The man lets himself fall back down on his feet (and very gracefully so).
“Excuse me being a stupid show-off, I hope it evens out with Lambert being a stupid arsehole, yeah?” Speechless. Geralt has got issues with words quite often but now he really is speechless. He can’t believe his eyes when Lambert steps forward and awkwardly holds a hand out.
“Uh, yeah. I kinda am an arsehole most of the time, sorry mate. And that actually was fuckin’ impressive”.
“It’s forgotten. And thanks”, Jaskier beams.

They settle in the couch corner on the terrace, something Geralt hasn’t done with his brothers in ages. Most times he has to leave early because of early shifts the next day. This Friday though, he’s on a late shift. So he relishes in getting to laze around for a while after training.

“So, how comes you are all doing cross-fit together? Geralt said you’re his brother, Lambert? Have you been training together when you were younger too?”
“Actually, we’re all brothers, except Aiden, that’s my boyfriend.”
“Yeah”, Eskel says. “And the cross-fit in this sense has only been there for a few years. But we all used to … generally train a lot too when we were younger.”  
“That’s cool! Who started it?”
Lambert gives a disgruntled noise. “Our Dad”, he basically spits out.

“Um” says Jaskier. He looks a bit lost now.
“Sorry, you couldn’t know” Eskel interferes.
“That’s just kind of a sensitive topic. Our Dad… he grew up in very … questionable circumstances himself and was raised with this attitude towards our country and … the military and … eh you know, proper ‘manliness’ and all that bullshit.”
“Oh dear.”
“You always make it sound like it’s not his fault, Eskel. He was a grown man. Drilling his children to become fuckin’ soldiers.”
“And you always make it sound like he’s that horrible person who mistreated us all the time and regrets nothing.”
“Well, you weren’t the one to come out to him as gay and be ignored for years.”

Geralt speaks up, for the first time. “Now you’re the one ignoring him though. He has changed since Remus and you know that.”
“Easy for you to say, pretty boy. Always the favourite. Bet he still doesn’t know you’re gay.”
“Because I’m not, for the last time, really, I’m –”
Aiden clears his throat. “I feel like I should inform you that Lambert’s had an injured trainee on his crew today and he blames himself for it.”
Lambert glowers at him.
“Does not give him the right to behave like an arse all the time.” Geralt grumbles. “Sorry to hear that, anyways.”

Eskel – sweet, kind Eskel – picks up on the way Jaskier clearly feels like he should not be a part of this situation.
“Lambert’s a firefighter, as am I. And he’s a great one at that. Not your fault if Ben can’t listen to your orders, Lambert! I’ve had him on my crew too and I’m like 99% sure what happened was on him and nobody else.”
Aiden’s hand squeezes Lambert’s shoulder in a way that is surely meant to be more subtle than it actually is.

“Sorry to hear that, Lambert. Sounds like a shit day anyways. And also, wow, honestly”, Jaskier says. “I’m just already impressed with your job in general. Like entering a burning building, that’s the stuff nightmares are made of.”
“It is”, Eskel says, mouth pulled in a sour smile, made even more sour by his scars pulling on his upper lip. “Should probably also quickly brief you on the way Geralt tried to save our brother Remus when we were all still in the military.”

Eskel’s gaze flicks to Geralt, who looks away but doesn’t stop him. Geralt feels a little hollow, like every time the topic comes up. Somehow, he’s glad he’s got his brother to explain everything, his brother who always finds the right words with so much ease.

Some part of him would have preferred for the topic to never come up again, the least of all in front of Jaskier. But it’s already come up once when they had just been having a friendly, harmless lunch together. So probably it’s better like this, just getting it out of the way. Out of the way for what?

Eskel keeps talking, chooses his words carefully.
“There was… fire involved. After an explosion. Remus didn’t make it. Geralt nearly didn’t because he didn’t want to leave him behind and then got trapped under something that fell from the ceiling. It’s how we finally got out of the military, out of this whole mind-set too. Started to question everything. In the end, we all wanted lives where we got to save people rather than shoot them. Not like that’s not also kinda the purpose of soldiers but… well, you know.”

Jaskier’s hand squeezes Geralt’s tightly. Since when is his hand in Jaskier’s? There is silence for a moment. This is certainly not how Geralt expected the evening to go.

“That sounds awful.” Jaskier says. He cuts himself off, hesitates.
“I’m so happy you all found professions that are … better for you.” he continues, turning to Geralt, a sweet, hesitant smile on his face. “I mean, obviously I can’t speak for you or the others on that matter. But at least you seem to be quite happy in your job.”
“I am!” Geralt says after swallowing a lump of emotion.

He’s thankful for the way Jaskier skipped through to that part instead of showering them in pity. He’s thankful for the way Jaskier seems to see and acknowledge that Geralt loves his job. He’s thankful for the hand in his hand too. It feels good, having someone to hold on to like that, even if it is just for a moment.

Chapter Text

Despite Jaskier being so sweet and understanding – despite everything his therapist has taught him – Geralt dreams of the incident again. He should be used to it, really, but he hasn’t dreamed of it in a while. So he keeps tossing and turning the whole night, wakes up again and again just to sleep through his alarm in the end.

Hannah raises her eyebrows at him when he rushes in.
“You look like shit.”
“Hmm.”

She is holding a coffee cup in her hands. A nice one, from the café. Briefly, Geralt wonders if she stole his (Hannah never gets a coffee outside, she’s much too thrifty) but he discards the thought quickly. He must have been staring because Hannah blushes a little.

“Jealous? Got it from a special someone, you wouldn’t believe it.”
Geralt is dumbstruck. So it’s not just him then, is it? Was it even meant to be flirty in the first place?

He doesn’t have time to dwell on it though because Alex swipes Hannah away to help with repositioning the shoulder of a teenager who tried something a little too reckless on his mountain bike. And there are three boxes of medicaments to unpack, blood samples to prepare and so on and so on.

Around lunchtime, there’s a panicked couple raising a ruckus in the waiting area. Geralt only hears the words “ladder”, “fall”, and “pregnant” and already knows he doesn’t want to have anything to do with this case in his current state of tired because it is probably something horrible. Now probably is a good time to have lunch.

He actually eats something but doesn’t take his time with it because he feels too guilty for leaving Hannah alone with what might have escalated into a full-on emergency situation right now.

When he leaves the staff kitchen he runs right into Jaskier and promptly gets reminded of the coffee for Hannah this morning and – as finicky as it may seem – the lack of coffee for Geralt. He tries to shake the feeling off.

“Oh, Geralt, that’s perfect actually.” Jaskier rambles before he can even say ‘hi’.
Geralt tilts his head.
“What do I do?!” the intern whisper-shouts, panicked gaze meeting Geralt’s confused look. “There’s this couple. And HE fell down a damned ladder, definitely broke something, might have some internal bleeding, his fucking spleen could be rupturing right this fucking moment. And he won’t let me examine him before a gynaecologist has examined his wife. Because they are afraid something happened to the baby because the mother was oh so shocked by seeing her husband fall and they don’t fucking believe me that the baby is doing just fine although I’ve even done an ultrasound. Because I made the mistake of saying that I’m not a fucking gynaecologist. And it’s not even my case actually, it’s surgery but triage put down internal medicine for whatever reason.”

“Woah, Jaskier. Breathe.” Geralt says before Jaskier can rant on. “Why don’t you just call a gynaecologist?”
Jaskier looks like Geralt has hit him in the face. “Because she doesn’t need a gynaecologist? The baby is doing just fine, you don’t believe me either?”
“Of course I believe you. But you want to examine the guy, no further delay, don’t you?”
“Well, yes.”
“He’s a panicking parent. Fastest thing will be calling a gynaecologist because apparently, that’s what he needs to be reassured enough to start thinking about his own body.”
“But they’ll be so annoyed if I get them to come down to the ER for that.”
“Jaskier, it’s fine. Look, I know one, I’ll come in there with you and call her so the father knows it’s taken care of. Probably, you can examine him then.”

Jaskier rubs a hand over his face, then squeezes Geralt’s shoulder. “Thank you! You’ve seen me breaking down a lot these past weeks here, haven’t you?”
“It’s fine. That’s normal at the beginning.” Geralt says. He shakes Jaskier’s hand off under the disguise of getting to room 3 where the nervous couple is waiting.

Standing in the doorway, he takes out his phone.
“Geralt?”
“Hello Yennefer. Could you come down to the ER to have a look at a pregnant patient?”
“Umm? Give me something to work with here. Bleeding, in labour, accident…?”
Geralt chooses his words very carefully because he knows the couple is listening. “No, none of that. An intern from internal medicine has already had a look, we’d just like a second opinion from a specialist to be on the safe side.”
Yen mumbles something that sounds like ‘fucking parents’, then she says: “Be there in ten, need to finish something before.”

Yen strides out of room 3 and bins her gloves.
“You owe me a coffee for making me come down here for that”, she whispers as she meets Geralt in front of the medication storage.
“I know.” he says. “But at least that guy with his six fractured ribs is getting surgery now.”

He’d heard Jaskier call Essi (who then probably called her superior and the anaesthesiologist) to take over the case as soon as it was clear that this really wasn’t an internal medicine case at all.

“Oh la la, that’s quite something for falling down a little ladder.” Yen leans closer and gives him a grin he hasn’t seen on her in a while. “That intern is quite something too, hm? Big blue eyes, bossy attitude…”
Geralt grumbles something unintelligible and Yen smirks.
“You should date him” she says.
“You should date Triss”, he shoots back. He’s seen the two of them eye each other, whenever Yennefer gets called in for something.
“Your Ex?!” she recoils, scandalised. “What pills are you on? I must try them.”
She acts just a little too shocked though. Geralt doesn’t believe her for a second.

The afternoon goes on and it’s rather quiet after the problem couple is taken care of. Geralt prepares the pain medication for a woman Essi has diagnosed with harmless – but nonetheless worthy of treatment – back pain. He contemplates the coffee question.

So, there is a chance that Jaskier just gets coffees for all of them from time to time. Just because he’s nice. There’s a chance it is not even meant in a flirty way. Neither his touches, nor the doing sports together would have been flirty either in that case. Or maybe the story of Geralt’s past had made him reconsider flirting with Geralt.

Geralt heaves a sigh. He wants to date Jaskier. He wasn’t even able to deny it when Yen teased him about it.

Maybe Jaskier is a shameless macho who just tries to get in everyone’s pants but that’s the gossip so it cannot be true, right? Also, it was just a coffee for someone else. It’s not like he has stuck his tongue down Hannah’s throat in front of Geralt. Obviously, it’s not like he has stuck his tongue down Geralt’s throat either (and isn’t that a thought). Maybe he has just given up on flirting with Geralt because Geralt hasn’t given any indication that his attentions are welcome (because they weren’t – but actually, they very much were). And now he is frustrated and flirts with Hannah instead because she’s a very sweet person too. Oh gods, maybe Jaskier’s got a nurse kink. Not sexy.

Geralt realises his train of thought went off into a very wrong direction and shakes himself out of it. The medication for the back pain patient is his last task for the day. He gets it to her and makes sure she is alright for the foreseeable time before walking towards the doctor’s office.

Today is the day of getting his head out of his arse before it is too late. Jaskier is unbelievably attractive and he has shown some very tenacious, probably flirty interest in him. He’s going to ask him out. Like, for a date. Oh heavens, he feels like a stuttering teenager.

Geralt knocks and opens the door. There’s Jaskier, splayed out lazily on a chair and on his lap, head leaning on his shoulder, is Essi. Her blond curls look ruffled where Jaskier is carding a hand through her hair. Jaskier looks up.

“Geralt!” he says and smiles. He has the audacity to smile.
“Oh.” Geralt manages. “’s nothing. Sorry.”

He leaves the ER, fast. He doesn’t even say goodbye to Hannah.

It’s so stupid. And he doesn’t even have the right to feel hurt. It’s not like he has any sort of claim on Jaskier. There has been nothing. Jaskier probably doesn’t even realise Geralt had thought there was … something starting to grow between them. Why would he? He doesn’t know Geralt hasn’t ever brought someone to the box, let alone meet his brothers there. He doesn’t know that Geralt is haunted by his fucking damn beautiful eyes. That he kept imagining Jaskier’s hands on him ever since he came to the ER although he felt so guilty about it and kept himself in denial the whole time. It’s all so damn stupid.

And if Geralt had acted a little more interested? If he had invited Jaskier home the evening before or something? Jaskier probably still would have his little things going on with Hannah and Essi and god knows who else he has wrapped around his little finger just like Geralt. Why chose if you can have them all? That’s what the gossip had said.

Fuck, fuck, fuck. He can’t believe how hurt he is by the whole thing. Why the fuck would this hurt worse than splitting up with Yen? They had had a life together, a home, a daughter. Not a stupid coffee cup saying ‘Hero of the day’. Geralt kicks at the pebbles on the parking lot, then stops because he remembers he might damage one of the cars accidentally. On the drive home he only finds he’s glad it’s Friday and Rachel has got the weekend shifts so he won’t have to see Jaskier for two days. He can calm down a bit. He’s not fourteen, getting dumped by his boyfriend. He can do this.

* * *

It’s Monday morning and he cannot do this. There is a coffee.
‘For the handsome nurse who keeps saving the day. How was your weekend? Lunch later?’ it says.
Geralt is fuming. He doesn’t touch the coffee. When Jaskier needs a nurse’s help with a patient, he gets Hannah to help him. When he enters the staff kitchen, Geralt puts his food back in the fridge and leaves. He avoids the intern. And he knows, it is petulant and childish and stupid and… he just can’t help it.

Triss gives him a questioning look when she catches him dallying in the supplies room (he’s waiting for Jaskier to leave the corridor).
“Who are you hiding from?” She asks, although he’s even started unpacking some deliveries (dressing and plasters, long due unpacking) for pretence.
He doesn’t answer.
“Oooo you really are hiding from someone aren’t you?”
Shit.
“Is it Jaskier? He’s been looking for you all day”. Triss grins.
Geralt just levels her with his darkest frown and leaves.

Unfortunately, Jaskier has not left the corridor in the meantime.
“There you are”, he says, a frown clouding his face.

Geralt says nothing. He’s pretty sure only very unpleasant things would come out of his mouth at the moment and he doesn’t actually have any right to say any of them.
“Last coffee not to your taste?” Jaskier says sharply.
What the fuck?
”Look”, Jaskier continues when it becomes clear that Geralt will not answer that. “Can we please talk? Because you’ve been acting kinda pissed all day and I really don’t know what I have done.”

Fuck, he sounds so genuine. Does he really not know then? Geralt feels like he owes Jaskier an excuse in that case but he still really doesn’t want to talk to the man. All the less even maybe.
“Come on, Geralt. It’s not busy, we can get out for twenty minutes. Please, let’s talk. I thought we were getting along fine.”
Geralt rubs a hand over his face. “Okay”.
“Let’s have a coffee then. As you didn’t have a real one today.”

They leave the ER and cross the street in front of the hospital in silence. When they enter the café, Geralt spots quite a few people in scrubs. He didn’t know this place was that much of a thing. It does make sense though if he thinks about it. They order and sit down in a corner, as far away from the other hospital people as possible.
“So”, Jaskier says. “Will you tell me what I have done to offend you?”

Geralt swallows. He’d make something up but that’s not really his strong suit. So, honesty it is. This is gonna be embarrassing.

“It’s stupid. I thought … with the coffees and all … I thought you were flirting with me.”
Jaskier stares at him, waiting for more. Then his eyes widen. “And you only realised now. And you’re actually straight. And that’s why you’re angry.”
“What, no! I just realised I’m not the only one being hit on here and if that’s your thing that’s okay but it’s not mine. And I got angry because I got that much too late.”
Jaskier levels him with a quizzical look. “I was under the impression of hitting on you and very much nobody else, thank you!” Suddenly his face clears. “Essi! You thought Essi and I…”

Geralt gulps around the fact that Jaskier just confirmed (to his face) that he’s been hitting on him. He clears his throat. “Well. Yeah. And Hannah. Who mysteriously gets just the same flirty coffees.”
“Jeez. Geralt. Well, first: I’ve been friends with Essi for years. I don’t like her in that way. She doesn’t like me in that way. We cuddle. On Friday, she cuddled me because I felt shitty after that incident with the couple not believing me about their baby being fine.”
“Oh.” Geralt says dumbly.
“Yes, ‘oh’.” Jaskier looks somewhere between amused and annoyed. “As for Hannah, you’ll have to explain. Because I certainly don’t remember getting her coffees. Did she maybe drink one of yours accidentally?” Jaskier grins.
“Um. She said ‘it’s from a special someone’.  It was last Friday?”
“Ah no, last Friday I was a bit late so I skipped the café in the morning. Hmm. Geralt, you realise this isn’t such a unique a way of flirting?”

Geralt feels a blush rise to his ears. “Yeah… well. As I told you, it’s stupid. I’m sorry. And um … right. That coffee could have been from literally anyone.”
“Yup. Actually… on second thought, I don’t think anyone.” Jaskier says, frowning. “I did think that idiot looked much too pleased with himself when I arrived on Friday… Anyways. That’s not the point.”

They look at each other, a little flustered.

“I’m sorry”, Geralt eventually says. “I really got into my head about this, it’s so embarrassing. Should not have believed the rumours.”
Jaskier’s lips keep smiling. “Ah. The rumours.” His voice is flat though. “Wouldn’t have thought they’d reach the ER that fast. Hospitals.”
Geralt doesn’t know what to say.
“Would you like to know where these rumours actually come from?”
“Um…” Geralt says.
But Jaskier keeps talking.

“I had a relationship with a co-worker. With one co-worker. He … he did not treat me in a good way. He made me do things I really didn’t want to do. One could call it abusive if one were to look more closely. I …”
– his voice breaks in a way that betrays his controlled expression –
“… got out of it. Broke up. He didn’t take it well. When it became clear that none of our friends were on his side in this, he started telling lies about me. He would let it slip that I had slept with this married nurse or that supervising doctor. Although I hadn’t. And people looked at me and just believed him because …  I don’t know. I’m flirty, I guess. I like flirting. Doesn’t mean I’m a slut or a homewrecker or whatever he wanted people to believe. It’s such an absurd way of trying to get back at me too. Frankly, I hadn’t realised the purpose of this stupid made-up gossip until right now.”

Oh gods, he looks so sad. And so collected on the other hand.

It’s out of the question that Jaskier is telling the truth. It makes so much more sense like this. Geralt doesn’t want him to be sad. And if he is, he doesn’t want him to have to be collected about it. He wants to take Jaskier in his arms and let him cry before he returns to the hospital to find that stupid arsehole and punch him in the face. That’s not an appropriate adult reaction though. Geralt doesn’t know what would be an appropriate reaction.

“That’s … horrible. Jaskier. I’m not good with words but I’m sorry! I’m really so sorry. That dude sounds like a toxic arsehole and I’m so stupid for believing any of his lies even for a second! And I really would like to go and punch him but”- he thinks of his therapist - “I’m aware that we are not cavemen so… I’m sorry.”

Jaskier snorts, then smiles a watery smile and hides his face in his hands. “Oh fuck. And I am sorry for just unloading this pile of shit on you… I don’t know why I …” He stops and shakes his head. “You’re really sweet Geralt.”

Geralt looks at his hands, at a loss for words, again.
“Are we good then? That was what made you so angry today?”
“Yes, yeah, we’re good.” Geralt says when what he actually wants to say is ‘we’re good but actually we’re not good at all because you keep being so nice and I don’t know how to handle it and I don’t want to admit it but I think I’m a little in love, Jaskier, please, go out with me’.

His courage for the day is all used up, it seems. Which is good because it most certainly doesn’t feel like a good moment for all that.

They sip their coffees and hurry back to the hospital. Geralt does manage to halt Jaskier with a tentative hand on his shoulder though, just before they can get back inside. Jaskier still looks so shaken. And before, it seemed like his preferred cure for that was cuddling. Geralt opens his arms. “Would you… hmmm … hug?” Very eloquent, Geralt. Nonetheless Jaskier is in his arms before he can even blink, tucking his face to Geralt’s shoulder and huffing out a little sigh. It’s a really good hug.