Wᴇʟʟ, I'ᴠᴇ ɢᴏᴛ ᴛᴏ ʀᴜɴ ᴛᴏ ᴋᴇᴇᴘ ғʀᴏᴍ ʜɪᴅɪɴ'

[righteously]

Who: Winchester & Co.
When: September
Where: Free Cities, Libertas, & the Horizon
What: Quests, training, or Roadhouse socializing.
Warnings: Suicidal tendencies, alcoholism, other psychological traumas.

Aɴᴅ I ᴅᴏɴ'ᴛ ᴏᴡɴ ᴛʜᴇ ᴄʟᴏᴛʜᴇs I'ᴍ ᴡᴇᴀʀɪɴɢ
Aɴᴅ ᴛʜᴇ ʀᴏᴀᴅ ɢᴏᴇs ᴏɴ ғᴏʀᴇᴠᴇʀ
Aɴᴅ I'ᴠᴇ ɢᴏᴛ ᴏɴᴇ ᴍᴏʀᴇ sɪʟᴠᴇʀ ᴅᴏʟʟᴀʀ
Bᴜᴛ I'ᴍ ɴᴏᴛ ɢᴏɴɴᴀ ʟᴇᴛ 'ᴇᴍ ᴄᴀᴛᴄʜ ᴍᴇ, ɴᴏ
Nᴏᴛ ɢᴏɴɴᴀ ʟᴇᴛ 'ᴇᴍ ᴄᴀᴛᴄʜ ᴛʜᴇ ᴍɪᴅɴɪɢʜᴛ ʀɪᴅᴇʀ

Comments

ʙᴇᴛᴛᴇʀ ᴛᴏ ʙᴜʀɴ ᴏᴜᴛ ᴛʜᴀɴ ғᴀᴅᴇ ᴀᴡᴀʏ → (ɢᴇʀᴀʟᴛ)

[righteously]

( He can breathe again. His leg's good. The house has burned to a crisp by now, but Ciri's safe. That leaves most of the loose ends here tied up — save for one. Not long after Jayce steps away and Ciri heads out, Dean catches Geralt by the bicep before he can peel out after them. )

Can I talk to you?

( It's a question, but it's not a question. There's an unhappy set to his mouth, a flat line that verges on frown. He waits for the other two to be out of earshot before he rounds on the guy sternly — the lingering, smoldering agitation from the mark going unsatisfied, the call for hands-on death unfulfilled, mingles with his sour mood from such a close call. They couple together here, and pinpoint a target for an outlet. )

Look, don't get me wrong, I appreciate the assist. I do. ( Pause to let that sit for a second for the caveat. ) But you gotta knock this shit off. Between that thing back in Nocwich, tackling the god damn devil? Now, you're running dick-first into a friggin' collapsing inferno? It's stupid. You're gonna get yourself killed. You need to stop.

[gynvael]

[ Dean catching up to him is the only reason Geralt stops. He means to check in on Jaskier, Julie, after a day in this city—first trapped with Jo, then dragging Dean out of a fucking fire. Sun's nearly about to set. He needs a drink and dinner. Mostly a drink.

And he really hasn't got time for that look Dean is giving him. It also is not something he's dealt with before. People concerned he'll get himself killed. He isn't certain how he feels about it.

Geralt's expression suggests he's debating brushing past Dean without bothering explain further. He is, as always, not interested in an argument over why he does what he does. His decisions are his own; that's all there is to it. But he's been here on the other side with Sam. He can recognize that Dean's...worried. About him.

His gaze is scrutinizing. Possibly a little pointed. ] Don't make me ask whether you thought about your own life when you stepped in to save Ciri's.

[righteously]

( Welcome to friendship with Dean Winchester — concern for people getting themselves killed is up by 110% in the stock market, to compensate for how little that applies to himself.

Go ahead and try to brush past him. See how that goes, pal. Spoilers: not well. )

That's different and you know it.

( He snaps it out without missing a beat. Hypocrisy, thy name is me.

If nothing else, he figures they do have one understanding: the kid comes first. )

[gynvael]

[ She does come first. For Geralt. Ciri is his to look after. His. He appreciates what Dean did, he does. It isn't as though he begrudges Dean for risking his life for her. That isn't it. That isn't what bothers him. Nor is it about Dean shouldering a sense of responsibility for Ciri. He can understand that, too.

In truth, he can't put his finger on it. Why he doesn't like how Dean's confronting him. As though this isn't simply what they do, what they've always done. He's placed himself in danger for a bumbling merchant and not near enough coin to buy a room. He knows Dean's done the same for less. So why the fuck would Dean expect him to do different for someone he actually gives a shit about?

His eyes narrow. ] Dean. You do not make my choices. And I've nearly died for lesser men.

[ Not that he's come close to nearly dying in either scenario. He received a scratch or two at most. Geralt's putting that point aside. He's not about to start multiple squabbles at once. ]

[righteously]

( He pulls a face at lesser men — like it's stupid, and Geralt's stupid for saying it. He probably means civilians, which rank a hell of a lot higher on the food chain than Dean does.

Not that it matters. )

I don't care. This is not a discussion, okay, there's a reason I didn't call you.

( It's not like Ciri's the only one capable of brain-texting. It's simple: )

I don't want it. I don't want your blood on my hands, I don't need to live with that. Thanks, but no thanks.

( Period. )

[gynvael]

[ In some ways, he's gathered as such in the back of his head. That Ciri was the one who reached out to him—not Dean. But it isn't until Dean says it out loud that it truly registers.

He gets the impulse. It also matters none. Ciri did call for him. So he came. That's all there is to it. What, was he meant to ignore it? Sit down and wait for Dean to turn to a crisp? Somehow be all right with that?

There are shades of the same argument he had with Sam. He isn't thinking of that. It's been a long fucking day, and something about Dean's words strike him as overwhelmingly self-involved. Possibly, he's just in an uncharitable mood after everything—but Dean is not the only one who's lost too much, who's failed to save people he should've. They all have. Geralt is allowed, frankly, to not suffer losing more if he can help it. Who the fuck is Dean to tell him otherwise? ]

And I do? [ He steps forward until they're toe to toe. His tone is sharp, absent of any patience he might've once had. ] You don't get to demand I stand by as if you're the only one tired of blood on your hands. That is not your right.

[righteously]

( To anyone else, it's probably pants-shittingly intimidating. It probably should be to Dean too, considering he knows exactly how out-classed he is, except when the hell ain't he outclassed? Demons, angels, they all roll in with Geralt-level strength and abilities, and those bastards are actually gunning to kill him. The worst Geralt's likely to do is take a swing, and he's not afraid of that. Hell, maybe a small part of him wishes the guy would. Let it come to blows right here in the middle of the street. Let there be blood. Let it hurt.

In any case, it means he's not backing down in the slightest as the space between them is erased. They just leave him more stubborn, fill him with more creeping defiance.

If anything, he pointedly, deliberately leans in another fraction of an inch. Just so he can clearly enunciate the next four words: )

You have a kid, you dumb son of a bitch. I'll be damned if I'm the reason she loses a father. I'm not worth that.

[gynvael]

[ His expression darkens. ] Do not bring my daughter into this.

[ He does not need that reminder. There's a lot he's done for her, a lot he's decided to let go because Ciri having him is more important. But at the end of the day, he will not be here forever. That's the simple truth. He taught her so she would not need him to protect her. So that when his time finally catches up to him, she knows how to survive without him. Each time he leaves for a hunt, he might not return. She understands that. She is not a child. She hasn't been one for a long time.

If Dean is expecting further argument, there isn't. He can list a dozen reasons why he made his choice. He isn't human, for one; he's survived things most men would not. And Ciri was the one who asked him for help in the first place. Had she pleaded with him stay out, he may have very well left Dean to burn. Or if the fire had spread an inch further than it did, he'd have not chanced going in. They'll never know. That's not what happened.

But Dean is right: this isn't a discussion. He's no interest in his judgment being questioned because Dean can't seem to fathom Geralt is capable of weighing the risks and outcomes for himself. Dean can be angry all he wants; Geralt would do it again. ]

If you're so fucking determined to die, then you can fume over me saving your life to another early grave. [ Afterwards, he'll reflect on why Dean has brought up more than once the value of his existence. At the moment, he's too damn exhausted. ] Now move.

[righteously]

( It's a fair thing to put him in his place over, that first bit. Dean won't begrudge him that — and if things were completely transparent here, it isn't actually about that anyway. Kid or no kid, he'd feel the same way, she's just the first and most obvious argument he can grab onto and throw in Geralt's face.

What does grind his gears is the fact that Geralt full-on levels him with the old die mad about it: high fantasy edition. What the hell do you even say to that? How do you argue with it?

For a tense, stretching moment, it seems like he might not move. He spends it staring Geralt dead in the eyes, a muscle in his jaw twitching, doing every bit of that fuming he's been told to do.

When no good argument comes to mind, when no genius way to escalate this manifests, that temper spark-flairs and he peels back abruptly.

Turns, and stalks away without another word. )