Word Count: 1005

Pairings: Geralt of Rivia x Reader

Warnings: mentions of nudity, fluff

A/N: not requested, just wanted to write it

Summary: Geralt can't always treat his own wounds, some times it requires a more skilled touch. The conversations were more one sided than anything, but you knew more about him than anyone else. And for years, this was how things were, so what's changed?

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It was late when he arrived at your doorstep.

As it always was. 

You had been asleep, or at least in the comfortable stage just before fully drifting off. He didn't knock, he never did, but you had learned to sleep lightly and listen closely. It was the sound of someone rummaging through your pantry that woke you from you near sleep.

You didn't bother dressing properly, the thin nightdress you wore was sufficient. The time of modest gestures had long passed between the two of you. You moved the curtain aside from the entry way of your bedroom. 

"I have just cleaned." 

The white-haired man turned his head to look at you out of corner of his eye. He was covered in blood, and gods only knew what else, dripping onto your floor. You couldn't tell how much of it was his, and how much of it belonged to the creature that had been unlucky enough to cross paths with the Witcher. A bottle of your ale was in his hand, and he took a long drink of the liquid.

"Did I wake you?"

A small smile graced your lips and you shook your head.

"I hadn't yet fallen asleep, I was getting there." 

He hummed in response and took a seat on one of the chairs at your table. You watched him for a moment, as he began to strip himself of his armor. His stiff movements weren't lost on you and you walked a few steps forward.

"Where?"

He didn't look at you as he answered, just continued to remove his black armor.

"My back."

His answer was enough, and you grabbed the bucket beside the door.

"I'll draw you a bath."

Geralt made no move to help you as he watched you bring in several buckets of water. Heating them over your stove, yet he made no effort to assist, you wouldn't allow him to, not while he was injured. The last time he had tried you had taken the bucket from him, scolding him for irritating his wound. He knew better than to attempt to help you now.

"I don't need all that." He said as you grabbed several bottles from a shelf.

Bath salts, and herbs to help him relax. You only sat them on the table in front of him as you began to carry buckets of hot water into your bedroom.

"We've known each other for many years have we not, Geralt?" 

He nodded, and you sat the empty bucket down, placing your hands on your hips.

"Then allow me to blunt, you smell like the inside of a goat's stomach."

That earned you a small chuckle, as you gathered the bottles from the table and motioned for him to follow you. Geralt ventured after you, into your bedroom, and you began sprinkling bath salts and various herbs into the steaming water of the bath.

"In you go."

Had it been the first time doing this, you would have flushed at the sight of Geralt of Rivia stripping, turned away in embarrassment. But you had been doing this for so long, it'd become something of a routine now, ridding you of any awkwardness. You thought nothing of the handsome man standing naked in front of you, it was almost normal to you.

You waited until he had sunk into the bath before pouring a bucket of water over his head. He grunted in response to the unsuspected action and you smiled smugly. As he began to clean himself of the blood and grime covering his body you walked around the bath to stand behind him. 

"Was it a Griffin?" 

Your fingers ran softly over the deep scratches on his back before you grabbed a rag. You cleaned his back and wounds with delicate strokes, careful not to cause him any more pain.

"Harpy." 

You smiled a bit at that and rinsed the blood from his back.

"A woman or a beast?"

He scoffed at your joke, but you caught the ghost of a smile that lingered on his lips. As you finished cleaning his wound and back, you lightly placed your hand over his cuts.

"This will sting."

It always did, and as usual he said nothing. The magic tickled your fingers as you willed his flesh to sew itself back together. Aside from his muscles flexing under your hand he gave no sign of discomfort. When you felt it was healed enough for his body to take over the recovery you pulled your hands back. 

Normally that would be the end of your interaction for the time being, you'd leave him to his bath, and you'd go to clean his clothes. However, you couldn't help but linger tonight, tracing scars that weren't there last time. They were jagged scars, ones that clearly hadn't healed right, or were left to heal on their own, without any assistance or care.

"Are you done?" 

Geralt's rough voice snapped you from your daze, and you pulled your hand back, standing to your feet. You wiped your hands on a nearby towel.

"I'll clean your clothes and mend your armor." You spoke quickly.

You moved past him to leave the room, but he grabbed your wrist at the last second.

"Join me."

You would have looked surprised, had this been anyone else but this was Geralt. He'd saved your life and in exchange you offered to spend the rest of it healing his wounds when he needed it. Of course seeing as that was many years ago, it wasn't that surprising that you and the White Wolf had shared a few, intimate moments, together. 

You removed his hand with a small smile. Normally you'd have agreed, but tonight something was different.

"Rest well, Witcher."

You left him alone, and gathered his clothes, walking out into the night air to wash them. This night was different from the others, you lingered just a little to long, cared just a little too much. 

For the first time, it wasn't like it always was.