SIXTEEN | THE BATH

Geralt paced around the room Yennefer left him and Caira in. His brows were scrunched in its usual, pondering, manner and his hands were upon his hips. Caira sighed as she awaited Yennefer's return, hoping to hear some good news about Jaskier's state. "You like her, don't you?" Geralt gruntled over at Caira, who's eyes were still glimmering with curiosity over Yennefer.

Caira's lips curled upward. "She's intriguing."

Geralt sniffed, restraining his chuckle. Yennefer was certainly a significant figure. She had his mysterious and powerful aura about her, and it was quite an admirable quality. Geralt couldn't blame her for having a little girl crush on the woman. "She's who I want to be when I grow up." Caira joked, the humor in the fact that she was already grown and had her chance as the power Yennefer held.

"Okay, Princess." Geralt teased.

Caira grabbed an onion that sat on top of the wooden table in the kitchen room Yennefer had left the two in. She launched the vegetable at Geralt, hoping to hit him, but, he caught the onion easily, with one hand. He smirked, impressed by his own catch. She rolled her eyes at him, folding her arms across her chest.

She took a step toward him, her eyes glittering as she looked up into his yellow orbs. His typically slow heart began to beat fast as he watched her soft hand reach up to grab a piece of his hair and twirl it in her fingers. She knew what she was doing to him, but, she would never advance the intimacy beyond small flirtations. Their friendship was platonic. Especially after he had cared for her so well after her attack in Blaviken. But, they both wanted more. Yet, they were too afraid to ruin what they had.

Geralt grabbed her hand and pulled it away from his white hair. His thumb traced every rise and fall of her smooth, uncompromised palm. He was never so analytical and gentle with anyone before, except for her. He was never so affectionate, so kind and so soft, either. She brought out a different side to him, as he did she. "I never thanked you for what you did in Blaviken." She began to speak, watching as he drew circles with his thumb now on the back of her hand.

He shook his head, not wanting her to have to speak of it. "I know you killed them." She spoke abruptly.

His eyes flickered upward, taken aback. He didn't know she had known he killed her attackers. He tried to keep it quiet and get her out of the town before she heard about their deaths. "Thank you." The corner of her lip tugged upward.

He gruntled something intelligible, something along the lines of it was no problem. "And I'm sorry. For me yelling at you." He added, audibly, this time. He felt a weight lifted from his chest. All those years they spent together, they hadn't spoken about those events. During their time together, they learned a little more about each other. Only simple things. Such as Geralt's age, which was considerably older than Caira—but that was to be expected since he was a Witcher—and his range of powers, Caira's brutal mother and sweet sister. When they ran out of shallow things to talk about, Geralt would tell her of his adventures and she would speak about Astoria's history.

She raised her brows at him. She wanted to embrace him. To kiss him. But, she refrained. Fortunately, Yennefer entered the room before she had to come up with a response. "He's in a deep healing sleep." She announced as she entered the room. Geralt took a step away from Caira.

"How long will he sleep for? Long enough for you two to bathe." Yennefer raised a suggestive brow at them. She could sense their infatuations with one another and be eager to intervene.

Yennefer held a pile of clothing in her hands, and she tossed it on the table before them with a smirk crossing her face. "I've lent you a silk dress of mine." Yennefer smiled kindly at Caira. Yen never truly had a friend before, and she seemed to have taken a likening toward Caira. She assumed allowing her to borrow her clothes was the first step at achieving friendship—perhaps even best friendship with the girl.

* * *

Yennefer ran the two their bath, then left them be in the bathroom to cleanse themselves, and perhaps do more if they were so pleased. Geralt was already soaking in the tub when Caira shrugged off her clothes to slip in, too. Yennefer insisted that they took a bath together, claiming that they'd be wasting perfectly good water if they didn't. Begrudgingly, they accepted. Perhaps it was because they truly wanted to bathe together. Or perhaps Yen had cast a spell over them.

Caira sat, bareback to bareback, against Geralt. She absorbed the warmth of the water, grateful to no longer feel the cool, stinging winds from the outdoors. She tried to steal a few glances at Geralt without him noticing as they soaked in the steaming tub. Geralt lifted his leg, revealing a long, deep-set scar on the back of his thigh.

Bravely, Caira turned around and sat before Geralt. Allowing him to take in every square inch of bare skin sat before him. She ran her finger over his scar and frowned. She recalled the first time she met him and had lodged a dagger right in that very location. "Didn't know it would leave a scar." She hummed.

Geralt put his leg back under the water, cocking his head at her. His heart beat faster and bees flew frantically in his stomach. His eyes trailed down to her bare breasts. She wanted him to see her. To finally, truly see her. "It will forever remind me of you." His lips barely flickered up into a half-smile.

He moved forward, toward her. He nervously ran his hand over her silky, black hair. Then, buried his hand behind her hand, pulling her toward him as his eyes bore into hers. Caira felt drawn to him. Geralt cautiously continued to make a move. Caira couldn't take the tension anymore and threw her arms around his neck, pressing her plump lips against his soft ones. She wrapped her legs around his waist, and his hands reached for her thighs, gripping them tightly. She moved her hands up to tangle into his white hair, moaning as his tongue found its way into her mouth.

Her heart beat terribly hard against her chest and her nerves were on fire. He pulled away from her, taking a look at her excited face to make sure that was what she really wanted. She bit her bottom lip, eagerly, bumping the tip of her nose against his as she looked up at him from under her lashes. "Caira—" he began, but then she settled herself onto him, making him grunt in pleasure.

He raised his brows, worried that after this everything would be awkward, that their coexistence would be ruined. But, she simply grabbed his face and nodded at him, assuringly. Then, Geralt finally let all his worries go. He allowed himself to be happy, and to care, for once.