Chapter Text
Eskel is familiar with physical scars.
How could he not be, with them making up half his face?
He'd had to become familiar with them whilst training, growing up, travelling the path, trying to survive.
Countless cuts and scratches and bites had led to countless scars, scars that he barely even pays attention to anymore because he'd become so used to them.
But that was just physical scars.
Obvious, external reminders of battles and people and memories he often wishes he could forget.
He can turn away from his reflection and keep his hands away from his skin and avoid the gaze of judgemental townsfolk and sometimes, it's almost as if he can't see his scars anymore.
Unfortunately, not all scars are physical.
Some are deeper, etched into hearts rather than flesh, invisible to most and impossible to forget.
Well, not so impossible if Eskel has anything to say about it.
To be fair, he usually doesn't.
But for Jaskier?
He makes an exception for Jaskier from the very moment their paths cross…
Eskel groans internally as the innkeeper's nose wrinkles up in disgust.
It's the third time he's done that during their conversation and he's rather tired of it.
He knows he's covered in innards, thank you very much, but he isn't going to do anything about it until he gets his coin. Being refused payment is nothing new but he needs it this time, the cursed beast had ruined his armour.
"Must you be so-" the innkeeper starts, clearly about to insult him.
But he's interrupted by someone slinging an arm around his shoulders.
It's been an age since anyone has done anything of the sort and he's equally as confused as he is annoyed. He might also be a little bit relieved but he'd never admit how nice it feels, not even to himself.
So he tenses, fighting every impulse in his body that screams at him to throw the stranger off.
"Gorgeous? Why yes, he must," the stranger interjects, and suddenly he's not so much of a stranger anymore.
Eskel doesn't frequent public places often and he rarely pays attention to bards but he'd recognise that voice anywhere.
"And since this lovely witcher has just done your town a favour, it's in your best interest not to insult him."
And even if he didn't, there's only one human who's known to have a habit of defending witchers.
Jaskier spares him a sideways wink before staring pointedly at the innkeeper, who looks just as confused as Eskel feels.
He's not sure if that's because Jaskier had appeared out of nowhere or because he'd just been referred to as both gorgeous and lovely, but either way, he finds he doesn't know what to do.
"Now, do be a dear and run the poor darling a warm bath, will you? I know you have no rooms left so you can have it sent to mine. That is, unless you wish for me to stop playing?"
Jaskier raises an eyebrow and Eskel can't help but smirk, recognising the look of defeat on the innkeeper.
"No, I- Of course. It'll be ready when you finish for the night."
The man disappears immediately and Eskel finally turns to Jaskier. "You're his bard."
If Jaskier didn't have an arm looped around his shoulders, Eskel wouldn't have noticed the flinch.
But mischievous blue eyes distract him before he can question it. "I was. But right now, I'm just the bard ordering you to go sit and brood in the corner and enjoy my performance."
Eskel's frown only deepens. "And if I say no?"
Jaskier removes his arm from Eskel's shoulder and places his hands on his hips, both accusation and amusement dancing in his eyes. "You will not do that because I absolutely refuse to waste a perfectly good bath."
"You could just use it," Eskel points out.
It's a wasted argument, they can both smell the strong floral scents on Jaskier that suggest he's recently had his own bath.
Rolling his eyes, Jaskier takes Eskel's arm and pulls him to the corner of the room, firmly guiding him into sitting down and sliding a drink towards him.
"Drink up, darling, it's been made extra strong to suit your witcher-y needs."
As Eskel wonders how Jaskier could have known he was going to stay, the bard slips away and turns his attention to the crowd.
Or rather, turns the crowd's attention to him.
Apparently, Geralt had severely understated Jaskier's abilities as a bard.
He's in charge of the room as soon as he starts playing his lute, filling the place with an energy Eskel has only ever felt on hunts, making sure all eyes are on him as he travels from table to table.
Eskel feels the faintest sting of bitter confusion when Jaskier refuses to even glance in his direction, knowing that Geralt had commented on the bard's habit of drawing attention to him during performances. He can't help but wonder if it's because he's not as good as Geralt, if he's not as appealing to look towards in the middle of a song.
But when a man starts muttering darkly about witchers and Jaskier slyly spills ale all over his lap, Eskel realises it's just part of his plan.
Jaskier is making sure all the attention is on himself rather than on Eskel, as if he can tell how uncomfortable the witcher feels.
It's difficult to fathom why someone who might not even know his name would go to such lengths for him with no hesitation. But really, can he be surprised when this is the bard who'd changed the fate of witchers?
He just can't figure out why Geralt isn't also here or why Jaskier claims to no longer be his bard, especially since they've all heard the plethora of songs about a white wolf.
When everyone is satisfied and people have started leaving tips and drifting back to their rooms, Jaskier announces his departure and all but falls onto Eskel.
He's breathing heavily but there's a wide grin on his face as he sees the empty mug on the table.
"You drank it!" he says rather obviously.
Eskel nods. "It was good."
And he's not lying. It really had tasted good, much better than most drinks he's been served.
Jaskier grins smugly. "I know, it's my recipe."
Eskel blinks.
"But you, however gorgeous you may be, smell absolutely appalling. I believe you promised me a bath?"
He could theoretically snap the bard in two but he finds himself unable to refuse as Jaskier steers him through the remaining crowd.
They stop in front of the innkeeper, who sighs when he notices them.
"Your bath awaits, bard."
Jaskier nods but doesn't move, raising an eyebrow. "I think you owe my friend here some payment, do you not?"
Eskel glances at Jaskier in confusion, wondering if he'd heard correctly. Why would he so recklessly associate himself with Eskel despite having just met him?
The innkeeper seems to know better than to argue this time, simply handing over a pouch and waving a hand. "A little more than promised as a token of... apology."
Jaskier beams at the man. "I knew you were a good soul! We'll see about earning you more coin with another performance in the morning…"
And with that promise, he takes the coin and guides them both upstairs.
Eskel takes a moment to appreciate the way Jaskier can take full control of a situation so effortlessly before realising he's also victim to one of those situations.
"My horse-"
"I took care of it," Jaskier interrupts, pulling him inside a room and shoving him towards the bath.
"You did?" Eskel asks, frowning yet again.
Jaskier scoffs. "Do stop worrying your facial muscles, daring, of course I did. I know how witchers work."
Eskel chooses not to reply to that, simply staring at the bath that he still can't believe was brought up for him. By an innkeeper who'd apologised for his words.
He can't help but wonder if he's being referred to by terms of endearment because Jaskier doesn't know what else to refer to him by or if he's just like that with everyone. Geralt had complained that the bard could be overwhelming so the latter seems likely.
Jaskier bites his lip. "Do you… Do you need me to leave?"
He sounds so unsure of himself, so unlike how he'd been a mere minute ago, that Eskel finds himself shaking his head before he can consider his options.
"It's your room, I couldn't kick you out of it," he says slowly.
Jaskier beams at him. "I'll stay out of your hair, though, I promise. Just make sure you don't smell like the insides of a monster when you're done."
Eskel nods as Jaskier places the coin pouch on the small bedside desk before settling on the bed and starting to scribble something.
Within minutes, Eskel has slipped out of his armour and into the warm water - it shouldn't still be so warm after so long, not unless someone had been told to make it extra hot specifically for a witcher - and his eyes have started to close at how good it feels in comparison to cold rivers.
It's nice, truly nice, and he lets himself forget about the rest of the world as his muscles slowly begin to relax.
He only remembers to move when he hears a pointed cough.
His eyes shooting open, water splashes as he sits upright to see Jaskier leaning forwards and smirking at him, but not unkindly.
"I know I said I'd stay out of your hair but how long do you plan to keep all that foul-smelling stuff in there?"
Eskel is still trying to process how he'd started to let his guard down in the presence of a relative stranger when he realises he'd literally forgotten to actually bathe.
Jaskier doesn't seem to be laughing at him though. If anything, he looks a little sad.
"They're not too bad," Eskel says eventually, resisting the urge to smile when Jaskier gasps dramatically.
"Excuse me? You're in the same room as my beautiful oils and salts and you dare to suggest that innards smell better? I should think not!"
And somehow, Jaskier is beside the bath within the blink of an eye, all but glaring down at him. "Now, you're going to sit still while I take care of that beautiful hair of yours, understood?"
Amused, Eskel just nods.
He's no longer amused when Jaskier gets to work though, he doesn't have time to be amused when he's too busy being pleasantly shocked.
Jaskier's fingers make their way through his hair in the same way they play his lute: softly and gently but also firmly, expertly, as if he's done so a million times before.
No wonder Geralt's hair had always looked surprisingly good.
"All done," Jaskier whispers after what feels like an eternity.
Eskel opens his eyes and forces himself not to groan at the loss of Jaskier's touch - it would be ridiculous to miss something he's only felt once.
"Thank you," he whispers back, not wanting Jaskier to regret helping him.
To his surprise, Jaskier blinks as if he'd never been thanked before. There's a flicker of confusion in his eyes before he recovers and stands with a soft smile. "It's truly my pleasure, darling."
Eskel frowns at the repeated term, wondering once again why Jaskier throws such affection so freely, so thoughtlessly.
"Will you be staying the night?" Jaskier's question pulls him out of his thoughts.
Oh.
Is he meant to stay?
Would it be rude to use both someone's bath and room or is he meant to provide company to return the favour?
Jaskier chuckles. "Don't think so hard, you'll get wrinkles. You're welcome to stay if you wish but I won't be so selfish as to demand it."
He knows he probably shouldn't but there's something so sad about Jaskier expecting nothing in return for his deeds - mostly because he can see the mindset of a witcher in that logic - that he offers the bard a smile.
"I owe you for the bath. Do you wish for me to stay?"
Jaskier looks at him in bewilderment before his eyes light up and he grins widely enough for it to look painful. "Would you? Witchers are just so warm and the nights can be dreadfully cold…"
Eskel pauses, glancing between Jaskier and the bed, the one bed, to make sure he's interpreting the request correctly.
"You want me to… share the bed with you?"
Jaskier bites his lip, seemingly regretting his words.
His hands fidget as he shakes his head and looks away, moving his things to the floor. "No, no, sorry, I can't ask- It would be unfair of me to make you do anything you're not comfortable with."
Comfort is rare for Eskel and despite the bard's reputation, he's beginning to think it is for Jaskier too.
"I didn't bring my bedroll," Eskel says casually.
After a slight pause, Jaskier frowns at him, a small smile then gracing his face once more. "Well then, you'll just have to share the bed with me. It wouldn't do to stiffen up those stunning muscles, now, would it?"
Glad that Jaskier is no longer wallowing in the bitter scent of regret, Eskel finally lifts himself out of the bath.
Jaskier's eyes widen and his breath hitches before he practically dives under the bed.
He reappears before Eskel can express any concern, holding out a small pile of clothes, his gaze fixed on the floor. "I, uh… your clothes need washing but you can use these for now."
"Why do you have them?"
Jaskier shrugs. "Might have rescued them from a man who was letting them collect dust…"
Eskel wonders what the rest of that story is but he'd rather not make Jaskier uncomfortable by inquiring so he simply takes the clothes and slips them on.
Once he's done, Jaskier smiles, having settled under the blanket. "Are you going to join me or simply admire those clothes all night?"
Eskel snorts but slips under the blanket, unsure of how close Jaskier wants him to be. He doesn't know exactly what Jaskier was like with Geralt and even if he did, there's no guarantee it'd be the same with him.
But Jaskier is having none of his hesitation and turns so he can curl himself towards Eskel.
"Is this okay?" Jaskier breathes.
Eskel shivers ever so slightly. He moves closer instead of audibly replying, relieved when Jaskier gets the message and smiles, closing the remaining gap between them.
He honestly doesn't know if he has the right to be doing this. If someone like him, just another witcher, has the right to this kind of intimacy.
"Goodnight, Eskel."
Oh.
Jaskier does know his name.
He knows exactly who he is and he'd not only let but invited him stay anyway.
With a smile that he'd never confess to, Eskel waits until the bard is asleep before taking the time to appreciate everything about the sheer, unadulterated kindness of the moment.
He doesn't even notice himself drift off.
A life filled with affection had never seemed likely for Eskel but Jaskier makes it seem tangible.
He's willing to give his love to Eskel and Eskel's scars without a second thought so it would be wrong not to ensure the favour is returned.
It's really quite logical that he helps Jaskier overcome the problems he can't even tell he's dragging around.
And it's definitely just because he owes the bard for improving his reputation and getting him his coin, not because something in his chest burns at the thought of the bard's wounds never being allowed to fade.
His own scars will never disappear but he vows to heal whatever scars Jaskier doesn't know he has, no matter how long it takes.
It's only fair, after all.