janie_tangerine: (asoiaf > jaime/brienne)
[personal profile] janie_tangerine
 capitoli precedenti;

S4, M3, un'altra volta; asoiaf, jaime/brienne (witcher fusion), pg13

“Did you really have and do… that another time? I thought I made it clear the first was more than enough,” Brienne sighs as she raises a hand upwards and puts a cloth wet in cold water against his mouth. He’s bleeding harder this time around, not counting that his fingers fucking hurt, and okay, maybe it hadn’t been a great idea considering that as it is they are his livelihood at the moment, and yet.


And yet.


“You made it abundantly clear,” he sighs as she cleans blood off, and at least this time they have a room and they aren’t on a stupid riverbank. “It’s been told I’m shit at listening to people most of the time, though.”


“Don’t be that harsh on yourself,” Brienne shrugs as she puts the cloth back into her pitcher of water, wrings blood out of it and moves it back to his face again. “But really, it’s nothing new. I can defend myself. You do already enough with the songs. It’s all right.”


“It’s not,” Jaime mutters. He had figured that if they ended up close to Bitterbridge things would be worse and that a popular song or ten can’t fix an entire reputation overnight, but – if he had been shocked by how horribly people treated her before he wrote that song, seeing how downright nasty they had been the moment they got close to that stupid town had made him stop feeling like that song actually helped that much.


He knows, rationally, that it did. Fuck, they got a room here, so it must have, or they would be camping out. But the looks Brienne got (and that he got in return, but less) were honestly scathing with hate, they got thrown rotten cabbages at the moment they stepped foot into the first three towns in the area and it wasn’t even the worst because at the fourth they got the rocks and they only found a room at the fifth town, most likely because they did have some monster hunting problem on the outskirts.


Except that it’s some kind of harpy that only comes out during the day or whatever, he didn’t follow the explanation, so Brienne was supposed to go hunt it down at dawn and so, figuring performing wasn’t in the cards tonight, he had opted to just have a quiet dinner in the tavern and be done with it… except that of course every single person in the room was glaring at them without saying anything.


He probably shouldn’t have snapped and asked if anyone had a problem.


Except he did, and the moment someone scoffed at him and said that he didn’t see how he out of all people, as disgraced as he had been, could travel with a literal monster, he had to quell the instinct to break his lute over the asshole’s head.


Except he might have broken his knuckles on said asshole’s head, and now they’re hurting, and the guy kind of almost broke his jaw.


And he’s still spitting blood.


“I mean, I’ll agree that was some stupid thinking, but it’s not all right.”


“You know you can’t fix an entire category’s reputation in half a year, do you?” She sounds amused at that, even if she’s obviously worried – she keeps on dabbing at his split lip until it stops bleeding out, then sighs and takes his hand in between hers way more gently than anyone would give her credit for.


“I’m not that fucking delusional, wench,” he shakes his head. “I know that. But I can’t stand it when they presume they can just do that and then you… save their asses anyway. The first time around was enough, sure, but – eh. It’s just wrong.”


She shakes her head and starts cleaning dried blood from his hand, muttering under her breath. “Yes, and you’re not going to play for at least two weeks considering how much you banged yourself up. Jaime, it’s your damned livelihood. I can handle insults. If you ruin your hands it’s going to be way more of a problem than – whatever they say.”


“Not like I’d have much of a career if it wasn’t for you anyway. I think you’re worth it,” he winks, not telling her it hurts to talk. Well, it’s not as if he ever was known for his sensed and thought-over decisions now, was he?


She blushes at that. Again. People who think witchers can’t blush know nothing. And it looks so endearing under those freckles of hers, he’d kiss her cheek if he wasn’t sure that would hurt, too.


“Just – shut up,” she says, but it’s obvious she doesn’t mean it. She wraps his fingers up in bandages in seconds, but then again that would be her field of expertise, wouldn’t it, and then she sighs as she holds his hand lightly, reaching for the other and grasping his fingers. “I’m – I’m beyond happy that you do think I am, but – I don’t want you to hurt yourself for stupid shit like this.” She shakes her head again. “Please, let’s not have it happen a third time, all right? I’m just going to steer clear of this area and send word for someone else to patrol around here. It was obviously a bad idea, too.”


“I mean,” he says, “I can tell you I’ll try, but… if I told you I’d promise it’s not going to happen again, I’d be lying.”


“Are you dead set on taking punches for someone whose entire existence was made in order to take them?” She’s fond as she says it, though, one of her hands dropping his healthy one to cup his cheek and brush against his mouth, right next to the wound.


“I wanted to be a knight, wench. Maybe I never quite gave up on it, even if I like my current line of work much better. I do quite love the benefits.”


“Oh, the benefits,” she snorts, and then leans forward and kisses his cheek, wait, what – “I’ve heard that’s how gallant knights are rewarded,” she deadpans, and fuck he loves her, he loves her so fucking much he could burst with it –


“This one is extremely thankful,” he grins back, as much as it hurts to stretch his mouth. “And he’d do it another time, still, if it meant he’d get such a nice reward.”


“He can have it without injuring himself,” she says, and then leans forward and kisses him lightly again, taking care to not put pressure on his wound.


He sighs back into it.


Maybe it was indeed a stupid-ass idea, but –


Nah.


He’d do it another time, and another, and another, no point in lying to himself about it, and in all honesty? He thinks he’s going to live with it. He’s been hurt worse for things that mattered way, way less, after all, and she is, truthfully, entirely worth it.



TBC


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