every_blossom_blooming | (no subject)

"Don't worry," Geralt said, as he allowed himself to be cajoled toward the bedroom. His voice held a hint of humor, and a bit of exasperation. Nina was a bit of a force.

"Completely immune to pathogens. They can't survive in a witcher's body. Not going to get the sniffles from a night at the beach."

He disappeared into the bedroom, already unbuckling and unbuttoning, pulling ties loose so that he could get the leather jerkin and mail off and toss it to into the corner to dry.

Hearing that actually helped her to relax a little. "Well," she said as Geralt headed down the short hall. "I can't imagine it's comfortable."

She peered into the bedroom a bit and the moment she saw bare, scarred skin, a blush rushed into her face and heat through the rest of her. Right. Nina bit her lip and retreated back to the kitchen before she saw more than she'd been invited to see.

And she tried not to think of the occasion or two when Geralt had worn just a towel around her apartment. The apartment smelled faintly of him and she was entirely sure that was not helping her state of mind.

So she tried to be useful and kept an eye on the wine as it warmed, finding a spoon to stir it with so it wouldn't develop a film or anything. The mulling spices smelled wonderful.

Geralt knew the smell of arousal, but kept silent about it, though his breathing deepened. They needed to have a talk, he knew that. It was the responsible thing to do, and Geralt was a responsible man, to the point that Dandelion often thought of him as a moralist.

He worked on getting his codpiece and trousers off, his boots, which his feet were still fairly sloshing in. He left everything in its corner to dry, before putting on a dry white blouse, and a pair of black sleep pants.

He leaned on the kitchen doorway, feeling warm and comfortable and boneless, and stared at Nina. His face had gotten what little color it had back, and his eyes had once again returned to feline slits, under the kitchen lights.

"Hey," he said.

Nina gave Geralt a little smile when he reappeared.

"Much better than the low tide look," she said. She was glad to see his color had returned, even if his witcher mutations lent him all kinds of resilience. "Hi. I'm sorry I-- I suppose I get bossy when I'm worried. Or when I've been worried about something else."

She couldn't pour that onto Inej anymore so she'd foisted it on Geralt. She knew it wasn't one of her finer qualities.

Edited 2017-09-18 06:44 (UTC)

"I like bossy," he said, which was true. Near everyone he knew was bossy, aside from perhaps Zoltan, and Regis, who was simply long-winded. Geralt pressed himself off of the doorway and moved over toward her, ready to help finish with the wine. He pulled two squat wine glasses out of one of the cupboards. He only owned two of them.

"How are you feeling? Up for a talk?"

His tone suggested she was free to say no. It had been a far harder night for Nina than him.

The affirmation got another little smile from her. Nina pushed her hair back, let her fingers slide through it and remain tangled for a moment as she watched Geralt get glasses down.

"Yeah," she answered. "We can talk."

It wasn't the first thing on her mind, but she supposed there would have been some kind of a talk sooner or later. Besides, she had a feeling they weren't about to discuss the body that had been left to rot on the continental shelf, and anything other than that would be a welcome distraction.

Geralt filled the glasses, and passed one to Nina with the cinnamon stick floating in it. It had been made with a sweet wine, because Geralt tended to over-drink dry, but it would hopefully suit Nina's tastes more than his own.

"Do you want a physical relationship?' It seemed like she did, but she was also young, far younger than he was, and she was far from naive but Geralt knew that a witcher lived a life different than a young woman, Heartrender or otherwise. What to him seemed casual, natural, simply to follow their natural attraction, might be another matter entirely for Nina.

Where Geralt had come from, especially, it was still seen by many, by the religious, by the commonfolk, as immoral to have pre-marital sex.

Nina accepted the wine and she laughed, startled, when Geralt just popped out with it. "Sorry I-- I have no idea why I thought you would take longer to say that."

She glanced around the small kitchen and found herself a seat at the little table tucked against the wall. She definitely needed to sit or she would start fidgeting somehow, she was sure.

"Yes," she answered as easily as he'd asked. Then she took a sip of her wine; she sighed. "Yes, and--" But she wasn't sure what to say so she gestured a bit, wide and helpless, and then dropped her hand and looked at Geralt.

"What do you want?"

"Witcher," he answered. "Things are a little ... different between us. Relationships work differently. Partly because of the mutations, partly because of the codex, but largely because we're typically considered outside of the definition of human. And therefore, outside of human morality and tradition."

There was also the outstanding fact that Geralt was, whether he understood or not, fundamentally decent.

He didn't sit. He stood plainly, and tall, in his kitchen, watching her with curiosity and veiled want.

"I'd like to be with you. But I'd also like you to know I don't-- can't-- "

He trailed off, before finding the correct words, or at least closest to. "I'm your friend, Nina, and whether or not we end up in a bed together, that won't change. I don't know how to make it."

Yennefer was still out there, somewhere. And he would only ever think of her, would only ever love her that way, romantically, deeply passionately, forever, as a single soul.

But there were wants, and needs, powerful ones, and there was not a single reason not to enjoy them with Nina, who wanted him.

"I think we've already established that I don't see you outside the definition of human," she said, lifting an eyebrow. She had lived with that label long enough that she wasn't going to enforce it on someone else. Especially not someone like Geralt, who hadn't even been born that way.

Nina studied him after Geralt affirmed that he was her friend, and it took her a moment to understand. Her shoulders lowered and she leaned against the back of the chair.

"Someone else at home?" she guessed quietly. It wasn't necessarily resignation on her voice, but maybe some kind of understanding.

Geralt gave a reserved, quiet, soft nod.

"Yenn and I ... it's complicated. It's not always happy, and it's not always healthy, but it is what it is. There was a wish once, magic, that kept us drawn together. There's fate there. Tangled together."

He lowered his eyes, thoughtful and filled with consternation. His relationship with Yenn was just that, but she was also fiercely jealous. And yet, she was there and seemed as if she always would be. They were the same age, and they would live far into the future. Yenn had used it before, as a threat. That Geralt was not normally mortal. That he would live to see any mortal lovers and friends grow old and die, leaving him alone.

Edited 2017-09-18 07:25 (UTC)

"I understand complicated. The man I loved for a long time had fantasies that involved killing me as often as they involved kissing me." Nina shrugged. The difference was that Matthias was here, and he had moved on. She was happy for him, even if it had taken her some time to get there.

Nina tucked her hair back and as her arm dropped she let it cross beneath her breasts. She propped her other elbow on it and sipped her wine, keeping her eyes on Geralt.

"I like you, Geralt. You wouldn't have been able to kiss me so much if I wasn't interested."

Her smile reappeared, more confident and maybe a little sly.

"Then be my friend. Don't lie to me, don't hide things from me, don't--" She wet her lips and took a deeper breath. "Don't act like I'm something revolting."

Her smile brought one to his face, honest as it was fleeting, gentle and small.

"I could never. I would never." He knew how to be a friend, It was difficult to admit, he knew, because of the way that he was raised, the way all witchers were brought up. But Geralt knew how to be a friend, and he was a good man.

"You're beautiful. Everything about you is warm and beautiful. I couldn't ask to have met a better person. I certainly don't deserve it."

Nina rolled her eyes but she was still smiling. "Well, I'm sure there are people that would warn you that I'm more trouble than I'm worth," she said.

She rose from her seat now that all that had been sorted out and she crossed the small distance between them. She liked that he was taller than her and she leaned up to kiss the corner of his mouth.

"I think I'll decide if you deserve me or not," she quips, her smile warm and soft in her voice. Saints he smelled good. That wasn't fair.

"That's your prerogative," Geralt said, pulling into a mock courtly bow. His baggy white blouse hung low away from his neck, and the tail of his hair fell over one shoulder.

He reached for his glass again, and drained a great deal from it. The sea water had been salty, and he felt he wanted the alcohol, after that night.

Once he'd drained his glass, Nina curled her fingers in the front of Geralt's shirt and kissed him, pulling him toward her even as she pressed against him. The kiss on the beach had been nice, but she liked the lack of armor between them. Especially since he was nice and dry and warm now.

Dry and warm and alive, and he tasted like sweet wine and mulling spices.

Her mouth on his came as a surprise, but Geralt accepted it gracefully, kissing back, moving against her. He backed them up toward the edge of the table by the window, until he could rest both palms against it, fingers curling in pleasure.

"Glad we got that talked through," he murmured, around the kiss. He broke off eventually, not because he needed the breath, but because he wanted to see her, stare into her eyes from that close.

The light of the kitchen caught her skin, making it look powdery, glowing.

"You staying here or should I think about putting dry boots on and walking you home?"

Edited 2017-09-18 08:25 (UTC)

Nina made a soft, pleased sound against Geralt's mouth as he guided her back, until she felt the table bump against her. When they parted she was smiling; the kitchen light revealed the vivid green of her eyes.

"You're only walking me home if you plan on staying there with me." She lifted her eyebrows, fingers still loosely curled in Geralt's shirt.

His eyes were so different but they didn't frighten her. Being this close gave an excuse to stare.

"Seems like a waste of a half an hour walk, then." He tilted his head to the side in amusement, before moving away again, just long enough to pour himself another glass of the wine. His stomach made a rude noise, and he frowned.

He'd offered Nina something to eat earlier, because he'd known he wanted something himself.

"I'm going to grab dinner. Missed it earlier today. That okay with you?"

As if in apology, he reached out to stroke his thumb across her shoulder.

Nina blinked, and then she laughed. "I can order something and have it delivered," she offered. "Save you another walk."

She supposed she couldn't blame him. The fact that she hadn't torn into the nearest cake was a small miracle. She was feeling better now, at least, and she supposed food wasn't the worst idea.

Especially if Geralt hadn't eaten earlier - possibly her fault. She could well imagine the kind of energy it took to do what he did to his body.

"I sort of owe you, after all."

"Got some stuff here." He turned to the refrigerator to pull out a loaf of bread and bags of deli meat and cheese. There were conveniences Geralt was getting used to, and appreciating, despite his old-fashioned nature.

He dug into the bag and pulled out four slices of bread, which he buttered generously, watching Nina with a look of reserved fondness. Her company was infinitely pleasing.

"And I don't think you owe me. If I could help avoid more trouble in the future, something even worse ... why else is something like me even here?"

She supposed Geralt had a point and she saw no reason to argue it. She was still grateful, but he knew that. She hoped he knew that.

Nina just grinned and picked up her wine again while Geralt fixed himself something to eat. The way he prepared his bread tugged at her homesickness and made her think of the Little Palace, the meals served there.

"Do one for me?" she asked.

He looked at her a little surprised, but soon enough, his smile tugged at the corner of his mouth again. Before he made his sandwich, he pulled another piece of the bread out and buttered it just as thickly, before sliding it over. He appreciated that Nina had a healthy appetite.

There'd been too many times in his life, outside of Kaer Morhen, away from Coen, Eskel and Lambert, that Geralt had felt the urge to eat far less than he ought to. He hadn't wanted to seem strange, to remind his host that there were fundamental differences between them.

His sins, his differences.

Edited 2017-09-18 09:07 (UTC)

Nina hummed happily when he passed her the slice and ate it while Geralt made his sandwich. "This is how I ate my bread at the Little Palace," she explained after she had swallowed a mouthful.

"I think it was one of my favorite snacks. I miss the food I had there," she sighed. "Ketterdam had fine variety, but I always went to Little Ravka to find tastes of home."

She hadn't gone too often, not wanting the Dregs to invade that part of her life.

Nina blushed a bit when she realized she had just devoured the buttered bread and there was an apology on the tip of her tongue. She held it in. She had promised herself long ago she would never apologize for enjoying food.

"I keep meaning to look through cookbooks here. See if I can't find anything familiar I can start making myself."

Edited 2017-09-18 09:16 (UTC)

"You're a good cook," Geralt said, one of his usual compliments. Freely given, simple, without artifice.

He finished assembling the sandwich and tucked in, without self-consciousness. The food tasted better on an empty stomach. He let himself enjoy, the saltiness of the cured meat, the creaminess of the butter. It was a welcome treat, for his hard work earlier.

"Didn't get fresh bread often. Usually had to soak the tack I ended up with in a hunter's stew. Especially at the beginning of winter. We all traveled back to Kaer Morhen when the weather set in. The dead of winter is a poor time for witchering. Hard to hear, hard to see, hard to smell when the snow is coming down thick."