Chapter Text
“What’s that?” Cirilla pointed at the injector sitting on the counter.
“That’s Daddy’s medicine,” Geralt answered.
Jaskier sat on the counter in silence, icing his thigh and collecting his courage in preparation for the injection. Even after eight years of getting this shot once a month, he still dreaded it every single time.
“Why is it like that?” Ciri was about to graduate kindergarten, and she was a very astute kid.
“Because it’s a shot.”
Ciri’s eyes went wide at the idea that someone might have to get a shot at home.
“Why?” She had endless questions.
“Because the medicine is stronger this way.” And Geralt had endless patience.
“It needs to be really strong?” She had been especially interested in medicine ever since Geralt’s stint in the hospital during her toddlerhood.
“Yup, so he doesn’t get migraines.”
“Will he go to the hospital?” Seeing her Papa in the ICU had maybe traumatized her just a little bit.
“It could happen.” Geralt never lied to her. “It has happened before, but it probably won’t happen again,” he explained. “Especially if he takes his medicine. Are you ready, love?”
Jaskier nodded, jaw set.
“You ready, Lovebug?” Geralt turned to her. She had a job here too. This was the first month that they hadn’t done it while she was napping.
“Yep!” She leapt up, much more excited to play her part than Jaskier was.
“Up we go.” He scooped her up and deposited her on the counter next to Jask.
She offered her hand to her Jaskier, and he took it.
“Cold hand!” Ciri alerted.
“I was holding the ice with it,” Jaskier chuckled. She might be the only person in the world able to make him laugh during the lead up to his shot. “You still gotta hold tight.” He squeezed her hand. “I’m counting on you.”
“Okay, Daddy.” She settled in.
“Time starts now.” Geralt uncapped the injector. “Ready to start the countdown?”
Jaskier gave another silent nod. They had this routine down to a science.
“Five, four—“
Instead of thinking about the imminent pain, Jaskier focused on holding Ciri’s hand tight, but not too tight. She was squeezing with all her might.
“Three, two, one.”
Geralt brought the injector to Jaskier’s thigh and pressed the button which Jask himself never had the courage to.
It hurt.
He kept it pressed against his thigh until all the medicine had been administered, and then expertly applied the bandage. It only took him seconds.
And then it was over.
“Yay, Daddy you did it!”
He leaned over and kissed the top of her head, blinking the few reflexive tears out of his eyes.
“I did it,” he agreed. “I couldn’t have done it without you two.”
Only then did Ciri let go of his hand, and now it was just because Geralt was picking her up off the counter.
“Time to get ready for the party,” he reminded them. “We have to leave soon.”
Jaskier may have stalled a little this morning, causing them to do the injection at the last minute.
“Go put on the outfit Daddy set out.” Geralt set her down and herded her towards his room. “Then he’ll braid your hair.”
They had learned the hard way that if Ciri’s hair wasn’t tied up when she played with Eskel’s pet rabbit, Jason, he would try to nibble on it. Today Jaskier put it in two braided buns just to be safe. She adored Jason, and might offer up her hair willingly if she was able.
“Are we ready to go?” Geralt stood by the door, tossing and catching his keys absentmindedly.
“Ready, Papa!” Ciri declared from where she sat perched on Jaskier’s hip.
Geralt looked better than he had any right to in his weekend attire, all cleaned up in his nicest shorts and a dark green polo. Ever since Geralt had gotten married in this very color, Jaskier had taken every opportunity to dress him in it again. Geralt would look like he’d stepped right off the set of a photo shoot if not for the scraped up bruise spanning a significant portion of his right cheek.
“Oh, I wish I could do something for this.” Jaskier brushed his thumb in what he thought was a gentle motion. Geralt inhaled sharply though, and ducked his head. “I’m sorry, love.”
“It’s alright.” Geralt brushed off the attention. He’d already told Jaskier about a hundred times that he was fine, and it wasn’t as bad as it looked. “Do you know where my hat is?”
The party was supposed to be outside, which meant both Geralt and Ciri would need to take aggressive measures to avoid sunburn.
“It’s not on its hook.”
“Is it not?”
“Mine now,” Ciri said, a devious look on her face.
“Oh right!” Jask remembered now. He walked into her room. “She slept with it when you were gone the other night.”
Some away games were easier than others. The best ones were the ones where he and Ciri could follow Geralt to his destination and share a hotel room. That hadn’t been an option this weekend though, and Jaskier was incredibly glad to have him back for the party on Sunday. He only wished Susan had returned him in better condition.
“Ha!” After a few seconds of pawing through Ciri’s blankets, he came up with Geralt’s hat. “Now we really need to go if we don’t want to be late.”
“No, it’s mine,” Ciri protested.
“You can wear your own hat, baby. Papa’s hat is too big for you.” She pouted, but allowed him to deposit a bucket hat atop her head. “Off we go.”
As usual, Geralt drove, and once they were out of view of the house Jaskier turned to him with a grin.
“I’m gonna get drunk at this party,” he declared.
“Oh yeah?” Geralt couldn’t keep the smile off his own face.
“It’s been aaaaaages.”
It really had been a while since they had a day out as a family like this. Well, a day out that didn’t involve watching a rugby game.
“I wanna have a good time.”