Work Text:
With the pandemic, serious conversation had to be had. Given that Geralt worked in A&E, he was more than like to catch the virus. He couldn’t bring it home to Ciri, not if they could help it. It was one of the few times they were all glad that while they tended to live together, Cahir had kept his place for the benefit of sometimes a couple or three of them getting away. There were a lot of long conversations late at night while Ciri slept. Arguments about being a family, about staying together versus the risk.
“Jask, your job is your voice, we can’t endanger that,” Geralt was rumbling. “You definitely stay here with Ciri.”
Cahir was nodding along and even Yennefer had to agree. Of the four of them, Jaskier’s job did bring in the most and if he decided to stream a concert or two, the ad revenue alone could probably keep them afloat.
“No offence Geralt, but I don’t think I could spend quarantine with you and just you for however long this takes to blow over.” At least Yennefer was honest, she and Geralt loved each other but it was a case of little and often. To be locked together for potentially months on end was a death sentence for not just each other but quite possibly the world.
“I could go alone,” Geralt offered and got gentle cuff to the back of the head from Cahir for his suggestion.
“You’re stuck with me. While I’m more used to treating animals, you’re beast enough that I can probably cope with you too.”
The matter was settled, Cahir and Geralt would pack in the morning but they wanted one more night where all of them were together. In the bed, Jaskier was on one edge, plastered against Geralt’s side, one hand reaching over to hold Cahir’s hip. On the other side of the bed, Yennefer grumbled about almost falling off so she ended up half on top of Cahir.
The morning was a somber affair, Jaskier’s eyes were wide and shiny with tears as they bid their goodbyes. While he kissed Geralt, Cahir was playfully tugging at Yennefer’s hair and making her hide her smile in a scowl.
“We’ll video chat. Don’t drive each other up the wall,” he promised as he picked up his and Geralt’s bags just because he could. The look Yennefer and Jaskier shared was one that he wished he could have taken a picture of. They would be fine, isolation and all.
The first two weeks were strange but family video chats were keeping things afloat. It wasn’t the same as being together in one room but they were making the best of the situation. Sometimes it was Cahir sitting on the counter in the kitchen and showing Geralt cooking while they helped Ciri with her homework. Other times Geralt held the phone, Cahir dozing against his shoulder and smiling sleepily as Jaskier sang to them.
I’m coming home. Two weeks absolute isolation. If you don’t want to catch it, pack up and go now. You have 20 minutes. G
The text on Cahir’s phone had him frowning. Like hell he was leaving Geralt’s side. They knew very well that this was a very real possibility. But for Geralt to know he’d been exposed, something had to happen.
As promised, twenty minutes later the door was opening and Geralt stepped through. His eyes widened when he was Cahir standing there, waiting for him. The idiot had truly thought Cahir would leave him, what a dumbass.
“What happened?” Aside from his surprise, there was a set to Geralt’s shoulder which made him look defeated. He even let himself be led to the sofa and pulled to Cahir’s chest, a hand carding through his hair gently.
“Some idiot yelled at me about why a big guy like me would be scared of something as small as a puny virus. Ripped my mask off while I was trying to draw his blood. Because he wasn’t feeling too bad with the virus, he thought everyone else was faking it.” Geralt sighed, eyes slipping shut. “I’m sorry.”
He had nothing to be sorry for and Cahir was glad they were now in absolute lockdown because otherwise he would have marched over to the hospital to yell at the idiot himself. Being a vet didn’t mean Cahir couldn’t pack a punch. Instead, he got to hold Geralt and try to reassure him that they would be fine, neither of them were in the at risk groups, they were both fit and healthy. It would be fine. He was almost proud of how his voice didn’t shake though his hands trembled once or twice at the knowledge of what was to come. Really, he was trying to pacify both of them, not just Geralt and they both knew it.
The others took the news with varying amount of grace. Yennefer nodded, eyes pinched but she had been braced for it. However, Jaskier was a little less composed. He got teary eyed and looked ready to drop everything to get over there and nurse two of his beloved back to health.
“You’d only catch it too, Little Lark,” Geralt murmured, more subdued than usual. He wasn’t feeling ill yet but it was just a matter of time.
“Yes, well, sharing is caring, right?” Jaskier shot back and got a horrified “ Jasky no!” from Cahir and a snort from Yennefer. As amazingly put together she was, she had picked up a couple of habits from her three boyfriends that were rather unbecoming in her eyes. Not that she cared.
They agreed that Ciri had to know, if things got bad and their little video chats had to stop, she would know anyway. This way, they could prepare. With all her childlike acceptance, she nodded, told them to get well soon and that was that.
Nothing changed for almost a week before Geralt started feeling rough. And he knew it wasn’t just a flu like most “internet experts” claimed it would be. Admittedly, he saw the more difficult cases at the hospital but it was enough to make him aware that he was in for a bit of a rough ride. Sure enough, the coughing came, along with the fever, the shakes, the lack of energy. Through it all, Cahir sat by him, rubbed his back, brought him drinks and pills, encouraged him to eat. They texted with the other three, Geralt less so but sometimes, when he was curled up against Cahir, eyes closed, they would send a selfie or two.
As Geralt started to climb out of the worst of it, it became quite evident that Cahir was on the way down. He tried to mask it at the start, quietly taking pills in the kitchen and doing his best to stay on his feet for Geralt. But as the coughing started up, there was no denying it, he had well and truly caught it too.
There was a day when they were both miserable in bed, everything they could possibly need piled up on the bedside tables and they coughed, huddling through fevered shivers and pushing apart when it broke. However, there was one key difference. Geralt was getting better while Cahir was going rapidly downhill. It was almost alarming how he was wiped out by it.
We’ve not heard in a while, everything okay? Jaskier had messaged their group chat.
“Think we should send them a picture?” Cahir gave a lopsided smile as he held up his phone and Geralt relented. They didn’t bother sitting up for the picture, just pressing their heads together and stared tiredly into the camera. Both of them were pale, more so than usual and there were dark bags under their eyes.
The almost instant ‘ Oh my poor darlings. ’ was heartwarming. Though Geralt had to dissuade him of the notion that being ill together was in any way romantic or cute. There was nothing even endearing about waking up because your boyfriend couldn’t stop coughing.
By the next day, Geralt had picked up the caring role, leaving Cahir in bed. He was worried, after the fifth day, he had started to feel a little better and this was day six for Cahir without a hint of improvement. Quietly, he created a group chat just for him, Jaskier and Yennefer.
G:I’m worried about Cahir. Will take him to hospital if he’s not better by tomorrow evening.
Y: Do what’s best. You’re a nurse, follow your instinct.
It took Jaskier a little longer to reply, obviously trying his best to not panic but he blatantly was. He sent reassurances and wild offers of shipping in anything they needed as well as another plea to be allowed to go and look after them. His helplessness was felt by them all in their own way. That night, Yennefer stayed up, messaging Geralt as he sat in bed with Cahir, one hand splayed on his sweaty back, feeling him breathe. It was too slow for his liking, too shallow.
I’m scared, Yen.
Me too. But he’s a stubborn bastard. He’ll get better.
The next morning, Cahir looked worse, fever too high even as he tried to tell Geralt he was okay, that he shouldn’t worry. Sleeping it off wasn’t the magical solution though. He was pliant and weak as Geralt urged him up to at least drink something. The coughing was still ever persistent but while Geralt’s was easing, Cahir got caught in fits of it over and over again. From the sidelines, Geralt could see him wilting, muscles tired and sore but unrelenting. He even coughed in his sleep.
How is he? The message was surprisingly brief and to the point from Jaskier but Geralt answered as he would have for anyone else.
I’ll make some calls. See if they’ve got space for him.
The isolation ward was overflowing. Geralt was only allowed in because they knew him and the fact that he had already been exposed to the virus. Sometimes, it did pay off to have acquaintances in the right places and Renfri ushered him in. They had drips set up for Cahir along with something to get his temperature down as well as an oxygen mask. Looking at the stats on the screen, Geralt frowned.
Going home to the empty flat was worse, knowing he wouldn’t be able to see Cahir for at least a week. An irrational bolt of fear shot through him, terrified that this was the last time. He was calling Jaskier, needing a bit of over the top optimism to at least shake the idea from his mind for a bit. What he didn’t expect was for both of them to cry quietly on the phone, not knowing what to do.
Jealously, Geralt hated the fact Jaskier had Yennefer and Ciri with him while all he had was Cahir’s old apartment that was filled with the stench of illness and sweat. He hate that despite his best efforts he had brought the virus home, that Cahir had to be exposed to it because Geralt hadn’t been strong enough to insist on doing this alone. Even more so, he hate the idiots who thought it was just a bad flu, that the guidelines about keeping distances, washing hands and all that were for the weak, that they were above such things.
His phone buzzed the next morning, when he’d managed to at least change the sheets but had to sit down and catch his breath a few times.
He’s stabilised. Not looking at ventilation at the moment. Was considered last night but he’s pulled through the night better than expected.
Fuck but Geralt adored Renfri in that moment. She really shouldn’t have been messaging him like that but, again, friendships went a long way.
Thank you. You okay?
She was fine, sent back a selfie with a thumbs up and what was probably a toothy grin hidden by her mask. Some things never changed and Geralt was grateful for that. While she couldn’t message him every day, she tried to get an update out as often as possible. Four days after Geralt had to leave Cahir at the hospital, his phone buzzed with a message from Renfri again. Opening it, Geralt let out a relieved laugh. It was Renfri sat next to Cahir who was supported by pillows at his back and looking, quite frankly, awful. But he was sitting and looking at the camera with tired eyes and a small smile.
Three more days and you can have him back.
Sure enough, three days later, Geralt was pulling up outside the hospital and waved his thanks to Renfri who had wheeled Cahir out and waited with him to be picked up. While out of the danger zone, Cahir was still under the weather. But, given the pressure for resources and the general chaos, it was deemed best that he return home. Plus, Geralt was there and Renfri knew Cahir would have better care than if he stayed at the hospital.
That evening, they had a brief video call with the rest of their family. Jaskier cried and nobody was surprised. It would be a while before they could see each other in person again but they would make it through.