Chapter Text
The worst part about trying to make it as an independent musician was the, well, independent part. Look, Jaskier loves it, but this also means that he has to make his own schedule, get out of bed on time, and make sure to eat. All on his own, which, we’ve just established: this was the problematic part.
It’s a good thing his EP streams have been going somewhat well, which means he’ll receive his check soon, which means that he’ll be able to fix his car (it’s been making weird noises).
Besides that, though, he’s feeling marvelous. Truly. He already has an idea for his next project, an actual actual album this time, with more musicians (if he can afford them). Luckily, he’s been able to strike a better deal with the wedding planner, Geralt. Although… it might be possible that he’ll ask Essi, so part of the money he’d get (indirectly from her) would just immediately be returned. Oh well. At least he’ll be able to do other things with the money, such as hire other musicians (or get his car fixed; he really should get on that). Musicians other than Valdo Marx, of course. He might be able to get back into contact with Priscilla. She always had great taste. And other musicians, whom he knows, preferably.
Now there was just the issue of tiding over until he actually had the funds. And finding enough people to work with. You’d think that having graduated Oxenfurt and having been in an orchestra he’d know enough people, but no, even at age 32 Jaskier was still terrible with making, but especially keeping, friends. Besides, most of them just didn't "get" him, he always got too obsessed with the smallest details. Like the great poets their music was based on. It was easier to manage now than when he was little, or even a decade ago. Small mercies, right.
And all of this, added up together, might clue you in to the fact that Jaskier was a little broke, but only at the moment! And perhaps also feeling a little lonely.
It was therefore lovely to hear from Essi again! And she was getting married! To Shani no less! Gods, he hadn’t spoken to them in ages. The last time must have been… must have been at -. Was that their engagement party? It was really hard to say. It probably was.
While he mentally went over this, Jaskier prepared his breakfast. A nice sandwich with a glass of ginger tea and a banana. He set up his desk for the monthly call with his parents. After little more than a minute, his massaging program rang.
“Hi there.” Jaskier said upon seeing his mother’s face appear on his laptop screen. His father was only half in view, his face cut off from the webcam range.
“Oh Julek, I’m so glad to see you again!” His mother exclaimed. “How are you doing? What have you been up to?”
And Jaskier found himself talking about the ideas he had for his first album and the plans he’d made to go out and this awe-worthy book he’d found, and definitely not about the small rough patches in his life.
In a way, he reflected, it really was nice to be able to speak in their little local dialect. Not that it differed too much from Cintran, but the big city noises were just a bit harsher than his voice naturally inclined to. Turns out that the lapping waves of their coastline never made it into the language, only the claps of the crests against the cliffs.
His parents were doing well, fortunately. And he ended the call by promising to visit soon. They all knew it would be unlikely, but it was easier to pretend.
He had a coffee date to get ready for, in any case.
The trip to the coffee shop was uneventful, he gladly took a breath of fresh air on the way.
Inside, it was cozy as always. As he looked around, he saw students in their twenties frantically looking at their laptop screens, an elderly man reading the newspaper, some teenagers sitting huddled close together in the corner, probably on a date, and the most beautiful women he’d ever seen in his life. Her luscious hair fell over her right shoulder in a thick braid, her loose-fitting clothes looked so comfortable and he could only imagine how her long nails would feel on - And Priscilla and Dudu were already there! She was radiant as always and they looked happier than normal. It was high time for that.
They stood up at his approach and he tightly drew them to him in turns. He kissed them both on the cheek, because he simply couldn’t resist.
After, Jaskier dramatically let himself recline into the couch and urged them to “Tell me everything that’s going on in your lives, my loves.”
With him and Priscilla in the same room, time and conversation tended to… flow and meander, was one way to put it. Dudu would call it “impossible to keep up with”, whatever that meant, but Jaskier talked about his music with an explicit invitation for Priscilla to join him, dumb politicians, Dudu’s new job at the theatre and the dream he had last night, in which he beat Valdo Marx with the power of his sentient lute, in excruciating detail. Before he realised it, four hours had passed and all of them had to get home to start dinner.
Their meeting ended with the promise to stay in touch (this time for real!) and one last hug, which all of them drew out.
The next evening, he was off to Little Eye and Shani’s for dinner. He brought wine, they made the food. Seeing them together often made him melt a little on the inside. How Essi had control over the pans while Shani cut everything up, how they both did the dishes, and how Essi called Shani handsome. It was moments like these that he missed Virginia. Except she wouldn’t be found dead doing these domestic tasks. How lovely it would be to eat food, together, that you’d made, together. Not that he cared about tasks, maybe a relationship couldn’t exist of two people too pretty to do work.
“Jas, you with us?”
“Sorry, love. I just got a bit lost in my own thoughts. You were saying amaranth?”
Time in between his social engagements was spent composing, writing, playing and singing, in various orders.
He just had to get this transition right. If he didn’t get it he wouldn’t be able to play it and he’d be a fraud who couldn’t even play his own songs and
Before he knew it, it was time for his long-awaited reunion with Zoltan. At his pub, five streets from Jaskier’s home.
“Jaskier! It’s been too long!” Came Zoltan’s booming voice.
“Zoltan! I am so glad to see you, I’ve so much to tell you!”
Which is how, sometime later, Jaskier found himself almost crying over his empty glass.
“I just don’t know what went wrong. I think it’s over for real now. Sure I have my music and she has her fundraisers and we were both too busy to spend time together-”
“Jaskier,” Zoltan interrupted, “aren’t you glad it’s over?”
“I- I guess.”
“It’s better this way,” Zoltan said, patting his back. He looked worried, the skin around his eyes creased.
“I know.” He paused, almost afraid to say the next part, “I’m just afraid no one is going to want to keep me. Or me wanting to keep them in return.”
“What are you talking about? You’ve got me. You’ve got Pris. Essi and Shani.”
“Ugh, you’re right.” Jaskier looked down and laughed. “Look at me, getting sloshed and sad. Like some lonely idiot.”
“You’ve had one piña colada.”
Jaskier gasped in mock outrage. “Can’t you let me have my moment?!”
Zoltan laughed at his antics, the worry slowly disappearing from his face.
He looked at the wall. “Thank you, Zoltan.”
It was the day of the wedding and -FUCK- his car wouldn’t start. He knew he should’ve gotten it checked out sooner rather than later.
Alright alright. So the bus it was. As he ran to the bus stop, his lute case almost smashed against lamppost at the corner of the street. And Gods, it wouldn’t do to arrive with a broken instrument. So he found a bench and quickly popped open the case. It was intact, thank Melitele or whoever was responsible for it. He carefully closed it and sprinted to the bus stop, except the bus drove away before he could get there.
FUCK
Waiting for the next one it was, then.
Oh gosh with all this running he was going to be absolutely disgusting when he got there. Why did they have to be wed in the middle of nowhere. Yes it’s cute but at what cost. He anxiously looked at his watch. Two more minutes until this hell was over. Then seventeen minutes in the bus, and then an additional five minute walk if he got the directions right. Which would leave -seventeen plus two, nineteen, add five is 24, be there at one, detract- he’d be on time. That was all that mattered.
When he finally got there, Jaskier was stressed out of his mind, which he’d been dealing with since the bus was delayed at a particularly busy intersection. So, finally arriving at the scene was at once a relief and anticlimax, as everyone else seemed to be quite relaxed, except maybe Geralt, who looked quite stiff.
It was an interesting contrast to see him walking side by side with other people. Geralt was talking to a man of similar build and they seemed to be having a good time. They were obviously well acquainted, which made it all the more curious they hadn't adapted their mannerisms to fit the other. Geralt's gait was much more tense. He also barely moved the arm he was holding his clipboard in. It was easy to miss, but not when placed next to the jovial man who might enjoy gesticulating almost as much as Jaskier would on one of his quieter days. When the other left, Jaskier jogged to Geralt, ready to recount his stressful trip coming there.
“Oh Geralt, there you are!” pretending not to have seen him before. “You wouldn’t believe the morning I’ve had.” And right as he was getting ready to unload all of the tension, Geralt suggested he show him the stage.
Getting there was an experience to say the least. The ground was absolutely disgusting. The small dust particles dulled the shine of his shoes, which he’d spent a lot of time on! It wasn’t easy to look this gorgeous. Jaskier suspected his shirt to be on the dirtier side as well, so altogether it was deeply embarrassing. Then he almost tripped over some cursed root as well. So Jaskier did what he did best in these situations: talk so much Geralt wouldn’t notice the imperfections.
He loved Essi and Shani, he really did. But this start of the day didn’t fill him with confidence.
But soon the adrenalin of performing overtook his transport-related nerves and he got into the zone of performing.
It was funny how it took all of his attention and got him focused on the task at hand. It felt like the ceremony took forever. Playing a single song took forever and he was hyper aware of all the looks thrown his way. When he snapped out of it perhaps an hour had passed and everyone was moving to the celebration area.
He gladly drank a full glass of water, relieving the feeling of his parched throat. Soon, he returned to his performing position.
When the sun had gone down, and more of the guests had left, he decided he could indulge in some time with the married couple. They were laying on the ground, soaking up the last of the sun beams. Pris and Dudu were sitting close to them as well. Jaskier sat himself by their feet and went into the stupid song he’d written them when they first got together. When Priscilla recognised it for what it was, she smacked him on the arm. hard.
“AH! Pris! How dare you?! You know what this lute cost!” He rounded on her. “Are you going to insure-” But when he took in her barely suppressed laughter, he couldn’t keep it up anymore and dissolved into giggles himself.
“Honestly,” he continued, nose high in the air, “if you keep disrupting me you’re making me look bad in front of the people who hired me.’ He said snootily.
“The people who hired you, huh?” Shani said. “I think technically it was Geralt over there who hired you. Technically of course.”
“Ooh Jaskier, you don’t want to look bad in front of our wedding planner?” Essi teased. “Do you think you could get us a discount retroactively?”
“I’m sure he’d be interested if you asked,” she continued.
“You are a terrible influence.” Jaskier dismissed them. He wasn’t sure if that would be a good idea. If he was ready for that.
“I’m going to get something to drink.”
Sometimes it was hard living between happy couples. His eyes fell on Geralt, who looked unfairly hot. Was he not also regularly hot? It was summer and he was wearing a full suit? Who does that?
Somewhere in the back of his mind, he remembered that it’s important to have a good working relationship with the person who, technically, hired you. So he put a spring in his step and got ready to put forth a good performance.
“So… what did you think?” He asked. Geralt, until now, hadn’t been one to be generous with words.
“Your music-. It was fine,” Geralt said. How Jaskier loved being right.
“Wow, in three words.” Better than the three words he’d received in some small town. (“Don’t come back.”)
“Can I save your contact information? In case someone wants to hire you again.” That was unexpected. In a very pleasant way. He knew it would be good to approach him like this.
“Why, if you wanted my number you could’ve just said so.” There was nothing wrong with flirting on the job, right? Throw a little wink in there. Geralt was clearly uncomfortable, so he raised his glass to his mouth, taking a sip of his juice.
“But yes, I would like that.” Better to answer that.
“Are you always this forward with the people who hire you?” Was that a teasing tone? Jaskier couldn’t tell anymore. He was so hard to read. He answered before he could think about it.
“Only the sweet ones.”
Oh no. That was too much and definitely veering into inappropriate behaviour. Jaskier could feel a blush rising and quickly turned his face the other way, hoping it wouldn’t be visible.
Best divert the conversation from that misstep. So he asked about the bus, as if he hadn’t checked it already.
“You can’t take a taxi?”
After he’d told him about his shit trip on the journey there? He even vocally complained about it. Lord. Only one way out of this, Jaskier.
“You see, that’s a very funny story.” He quickly threw back the drink he’d been nursing and made his way back to Essi and Shani, content to let them tease him instead of experiencing more of whatever this was.
The end of the day came quickly, though. He left for the bus stop, and when he was finally boarded, he let his head rest against the cool glass. Almost drifting off to the sounds of the rumbling engine.
He finally got his paycheck and called a mechanic to take a look at his beloved, shit car. The mechanic was the most gorgeous man Jaskier had ever seen. His dark, curly hair was thrown up into a bun and he worked hard to get it fixed. And he had teeth like a military cemetary.
After the unforeseen expenses, he had just enough to book another day at the studio, better get that transition right.
Of course he shredded it.
Pris was amazing to work with, as always, and she even had a friend who played the trombone. What an addition to the existing composition. This was going to be the first hit he was actually proud of.
In the following months, he releases it as a single. It does well. Really well. Getting a place to perform becomes easier, marginally. He’s invited to play on the radio, even.
He declines the record label, it’s better to stay independent and make things he’s proud of, he doesn’t want a repeat of his stupid pop song.
And months after the debacle, he gets a call from Geralt, asking if he and an ensemble are able to play for a wedding. A big one.