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Geralt expected to be the first one awake the next morning, as usual, but instead when he peeled his eyes open, they were met by a pair of vibrant green irises staring curiously at him over Jaskier’s torso.
“What?” He grunted tiredly, making sure to be quiet enough to wake Jaskier.
Ciri didn’t speak for a few moments. “You… just looked so peaceful. Usually even when meditating, or even sleeping , you look sad or angry.”
Geralt grunted wordlessly and sat up, careful not to jostle Jaskier. “Go back to sleep,” he said softly, reaching over to run a hand through her hair and across her cheek.
She leaned her face into his hand for a moment and pressed an affectionate little peck to the base of his palm before laying back down and cuddling into Jaskier, ashen blonde hair splaying out messily across the abundance of pillows. Geralt sat there for a few minutes until her breathing evened out and just watched the two people who had stolen his heart rest. When he was certain Ciri had fallen back asleep, he carefully slipped out of the bed and quietly padded out of the room.
He forwent his boots or putting on any more layers as he left. He could feel the numerous wards Yennefer had surrounding the building. If someone unsavory or unwanted managed to get in, even his armor wouldn’t save him, then.
Geralt busied himself fixing breakfast for everyone in Yen’s spacious kitchen. It took him a few minutes to orient himself with where everything was, but soon enough he was cooking peacefully and relaxing into the familiar motions he rarely got to use on the Path. He was so focused and relaxed, even, that he actually missed the sound of Yennefer padding in.
“Good morning,” she purred, draping herself at a counter to watch him work.
Geralt stopped himself from jumping or flinching at her unexpected appearance. “Hm.” He grunted.
Out of his peripheral, he saw her roll her eyes. “Come, Geralt. Not even a morning greeting for your old friend?”
Just to be stubborn, he continued to avoid the greeting and moved on with the question he had for her. “Is Ciri going to become immortal and stop ageing through her youth?”
But Yennefer was also nothing if not stubborn. She draped her far-too-fancy nightgown gracefully over the ground and leaned against the counter next to him with her eyebrows raised.
Geralt rolled his eyes and growled out, “Good morning .”
She smiled at him, serene yet teasing. “Magic is a fickle thing,” she responded, “seeing as it comes from chaos. Magic from love, even moreso. The chaos of love is not something I will even l even pretend to understand.” She wrinkled her nose with distaste.
“Yes, we know you dislike romance, Yennefer, but we’re talking about more than romantic love--stop making that face. I am not attracted to Roach, and I am certainly not attracted to Cirilla.”
Yennefer sighed as her moment of appreciating her disgust was interrupted. “It’s hard to say,” she said, checking her nails as Geralt began plating the food. “I didn’t sniff her out for traces of magic, I was more preoccupied with your bard and horse. It is possible, yes, that she will halt ageing and forever remain your little teenage daughter. What affect that would have on her, psychologically speaking, I cannot say.”
“ Yennefer --”
“ But ,” she interrupted with a sharp glance. “Tell me, do you love her as much as you do Roach? Or Jaskier? And I mean the same amount , not the same way .”
Geralt resisted the urge to wrinkle his nose as he thought about it. He was still coming to terms with the fact that he had feelings, and Yennefer was asking him what he felt? He wasn’t exactly going to be the king of emotion identification, at this point in time.
“I… think so?”
Yennefer sighed with intense annoyance, but continued. “And how long have you felt this way about her?”
“Since the moment I saw her in the woods,” Geralt said without hesitation. “The moment she looked at me with such trust in her eyes and ran into my arms without a thought otherwise.”
A hint of a smile played at Yennefer’s lips as she turned to grab some drinking glasses from a nearby cupboard. “And tell me, it’s been, oh, a couple months? She’s at an age where children sprout up like beanstalks. Has she grown at all?”
Geralt took a moment to think about it. Jaskier had made a joke the other day about how tall she was getting, but that could have just been his usual teasing. She did seem taller when she hugged him the other day than when she had the first time, though…
“Yes,” Geralt said with uncertainty.
Yennefer helped Geralt carry the dishes of food to her extravagant dining room. “Then she’s probably fine. I’ll check for any magic on her, later, though it may be fuzzy because of her own magic.”
“Elder blood will do that,” Geralt grunted, pouring juice into the cups Yennefer had fetched.
“Now, you tell me something, witcher.”
“Hm?”
“What were they both doing in your room, last night?”
Geralt paused where he was pouring a drink. “Were you spying on us?”
Yennefer waved her hand dismissively with a disarming smile. “Simply checking in on you, you see.”
Geralt hummed and set the pitcher of juice aside. “Ciri had a nightmare.”
“Alright. Why was Jaskier in your room?”
Geralt furrowed his brow and stared at her. “I just said, Ciri had a nightmare.”
Yennefer cocked her head and crossed her legs. “Why didn’t he just take her back to his room to comfort her to sleep? Or her own? She fell asleep just fine without you, otherwise, and it’s not like the fresh sheets would’ve smelled like you. Why did he choose your bed?”
Geralt did not have an answer. Luckily, he did not have to come up with one, as a bright and cheery Ciri and a groggy Jaskier tumbled into the dining room only moments after he started thinking. He only hoped he hadn’t heard any of the conversation beforehand.
Ciri made a beeline for him when she saw and hugged him tight around his waist. Like every time she had hugged him so far, it took him a few seconds of hesitation to get with the program and wrap his arms around her fragile form. She gave him one last tight squeeze before releasing him and skipping over to one of the seats at the table with a fixed plate.
“Thanks for breakfast, Dad,” she chirped, almost unthinkingly.
She didn’t seem to realize what she said, but Geralt certainly wasn’t prepared for the words. He could only have one crisis at a time, dammit. And Yen and Jaskier’s grins directed at him were not helping matters.
Geralt filed that one away to deal with later, and gestured for Jaskier to take a seat. Breakfast was quiet as they devoured food that for once wasn’t heavily salted jerky or a fresh kill roasted half-heartedly over a weak fire in the cold air. Winter was approaching fast, and food was growing scarce, so having a meal like this (and not in an inn, where they had to pay for it) was a refreshing and much-needed change of pace.
About halfway through the meal, Yennefer and Ciri started leaning over their chairs to whisper conspiratorially in each other’s ears, giggling and smiling like children who thought they were getting away with something. Geralt let himself filter the whispers out into background noise instead of eavesdropping, let them have their fun.
“Well, that was a wonderful breakfast,” Jaskier said, far more awake now than he had been before eating. “Thank you, Geralt, for such a wonderful meal! Now, if all of you lovely people would excuse me for several moments, Ciri pulled me out of bed rather abruptly at the smell of good food and I would like to get ready for the day.”
Jaskier rose from the table and trailed from the room, an absent-minded hand dragging across Geralt’s shoulders and neck as he walked past. It was normal for them, and it never met anything before, but for some reason, after last night, the touch felt more, now.
“Geralt?” Ciri asked, startling him out of his thoughts. “Yennefer wanted to take me out to the market today. I was wondering, is that alright?”
Geralt hesitated.
“Oh, come now, Geralt,” Yennefer goaded. “Let her have a girls day! Who knows how long it’ll be until I’m able to steal her away for another one.”
“It could be dangerous--”
“I’ll wear my hat!” Ciri blurted. “Or my hood, whatever you want!” She clasped her hands below her chin and gave him the most pitiful look she could muster. “Oh, please, Geralt, please !”
Geralt gave in quickly at that look, ignoring Yennefer’s smug expression. “Alright. But the hat stays on. And make sure you’re not out too long.”
Ciri squealed with excitement and jumped out of her seat to race around the table and wrap her arms around Geralt’s neck. “Oh, thank you, thank you, thank you !”
Geralt couldn’t help the rumble of a chuckle that left his throat at her theatrics. “Go get dressed, Ciri.”
Ciri obediently raced off to do just that. Yennefer turned a smug look on Geralt, like she’d just gotten away with something that Geralt was not going to be happy about.
“No magic,” he said sternly, her look immediately setting him on edge, “unless for self-defense. Stop looking at me like that.”
“Looks like you and the bard will have the whole house to yourselves for a while,” Yennefer said, that self-satisfied look not even bothering to falter. “Perfect to take the time to talk to him about all this.”
Geralt felt his already-slow heart stop. Sure, he had told Jaskier last night that they’d discuss it in the morning, but now, in the light of day and not in the private darkness of a bedroom late at night, he suddenly was very against that idea. Plus, hopefully Jaskier had forgotten the whole thing due to the late hour and his heavy eyes.
Yennefer frowned at him. “Stop that. You’re going to talk to him about it.”
Geralt scowled. “Don’t poke through my brain.”
She raised an unimpressed brow. “I don’t have to. I know how you think, and I know that look on your face.” Her face shifted into something a little more understanding. “Look, I understand feelings aren't exactly easy for you, but the man deserves to know that you’ve accidentally made him immortal and tied your lifelines.”
Geralt sighed. She was right, of course. That didn’t make it any easier.
Yennefer flitted off to ready herself for the day, as well. Geralt went about cleaning the dishes he used as best as he could. Ciri was the first one to come back out into the living spaces of the house, which was both surprising since she was the princess, and also not, considering she didn’t have much and Geralt couldn’t afford to pamper her. Hopefully, Yennefer could get her some nice things, even if it would make travelling a little harder with the heavier load.
Jaskier and Yennefer came back out at the same time, appearances both immaculate. They still somehow found ways to spout insults at each other, but Geralt knew better than to pay them mind, now.
“Come, Ciri,” Yennefer said, eventually extracting herself from the friendly insult-war. “Let’s have our girl's day.”
Ciri bounced after Yennefer and shot Geralt a smug look, and Geralt immediately knew that she knew. Yennefer gave him a matching look as she herded Ciri out the front door.
“Talk to him,” she said obviously, and the door shut behind them.
“Talk to me about what?” Jaskier asked from behind him.
Geralt, predictably, chickened out. “Would you like more breakfast?” He asked, voice strained. “I think I’m still hungry, as well.” And he fled to the kitchen.
Jaskier followed him, albeit at a slower pace. “You’re avoiding,” he said.
“Jaskier--”
“Geralt, what do we need to talk about?”
“ Jaskier --”
“Wait, does this have something to do with how weird you were last night? And you said we’d talk about it to--”
Geralt slammed the bowls and dishes onto Yennefer’s counter, producing a loud bang . His hands were shaking. “Jaskier, please .”
Jaskier stopped. Geralt didn’t plead , or really tend to have any manners at all, so he must have been taking Geralt very seriously at the moment.
“Okay,” he said eventually, after they’d stood frozen in the silence for far too long.
Geralt took a deep breath and nodded, starting to move again. Wordlessly, Jaskier sidled up next to him and helped him prepare the second breakfast that neither of them was really hungry for, but they were going to eat anyway. Jaskier was silent throughout the whole process, which was probably meant to try and let Geralt think, but truly it just set him on edge because Jaskier should never be quiet, let alone silent.
Jaskier took a deep breath as they set their second breakfast on the dining room table. “I don’t mean to set you more on edge, Geralt, I really don’t, but… you’re worrying me.”
Geralt resisted the urge to reach up and fiddle with his medallion.
“I just… You know how… Witchers don’t have emotions?”
Jaskier’s face went stormy. “And how it’s bullshit, yes.”
Geralt’s head jerked back a little in surprise. Whenever it was brought up, Jaskier always seemed discontent with it, but it was always met with a sigh and a teasing remark, never a response this angry .
Jaskier raised an eyebrow at his recoil. “Geralt, come on. I have no doubt that such an idea was created by people who hated and feared people like you, just to make others fear and hate you. I’ve seen you, and unless you’re the most emotional witcher alive, there’s no doubt in my heart that you feel. You’re too kind and good to not , not to mention the way you look at Ciri.”
“But I--”
“I think you’ve just been told so much over the years that you can’t feel, that you’ve started to believe it. I think they hurt you enough and convinced you so hard that you’re the monster, that you actually thought it was true because so many people told you it was and that destroyed you. But I will not stand for that, Geralt of Rivia, no sir.”
Jaskier was panting when he was finished, face pinched in anguish and a little red with anger. He was always so expressive, always let his emotions burn bright and knew how to identify them. Geralt wanted to be able to do that -- was he jealous? Envious? Was there a difference?
He cleared his throat. “I, um, yes. I am coming to understand that, now?”
Jaskier narrowed his eyes and leaned over the table. “Geralt, I know you’re not good with your words, but I am very confused and very worried and I would like you to speak very plainly about whatever the hell is going on.”
“I have feelings.” Geralt said.
“Yes, I’ve known this.”
“And you’re immortal.”
“Yes, very good, I--” Jaskier stopped mid-sentence and his eyes went wide as he sputtered, flinging himself back in his chair. He brought his hands up to his face, fingers splayed, and examined them like they held the secrets to the universe. “I’m sorry, I’m what ?” He asked, voice getting shrill.
“Immortal.” Geralt said, internally wincing. He knew this wasn’t going to go well. “So is Roach, apparently.”
Jaskier looked at him like he’d grown a second head. “ Roach is-- what--I--” His voice went all high pitched and nervous. “How old is Roach?!”
“I stopped keeping track,” Geralt said honestly, his own nerves finally starting to pitch into his voice. “I’ve had her since… well, at least a decade before meeting you, possibly longer. Like I said, I stopped keeping track.”
At his tone of voice, Jaskier seemed to take a moment to collect himself. He took a few deep breaths before looking up, voice and expression far more calm. Geralt would’ve been inclined to think Jaskier was lying for his sake, it wouldn’t have been the first time, but he even smelled calmer, so Geralt believed him.
“So I guess it wasn’t my skincare that kept me looking so good for so long,” Jaskier said with a wry smile.
Geralt released some of the tension from his shoulders and let a huff of breath. Jaskier lit up, clearly (correctly) assuming that it was laughter.
Jaskier took another deep breath and let it out on a humming sigh and his scent started to pick up his usual honey-sweet happiness again. “Well, it’s a bit of a shock, but I can certainly work with this. Gives me more time for my music, more time with you and Ciri. Think of all the ballads I can complete, I’ll become the best bard in the continent with all my study! And I can continue to travel because my bones will never grow old and frail! Geralt, this is quite the blessing!”
Geralt smiled and he finally felt settled enough to start eating the second breakfast he had really only made to keep his hands busy. Jaskier started eating, too, but continued his constant run of dialogue between mouthfuls. Everything was fine again. Until--
“Wait,” Jaskier said, setting his fork down and staring at Geralt in confusion. “How did this even happen? How are Roach and I immortal? And what does this have to do with you having feelings?”
Geralt nearly choked. Which, of course, just seemed to make Jaskier more anxious.
“I, uh, it’s-- It’s an interesting story, actually.” He managed after a minute or two of searching for words.
“Geralt.” Jaskier said warningly, taking a page out of his book.
Geralt sighed, his shoulders drooping even as the walls around his heart came up. He shut himself away, prepared for rejection. Somehow, rejection hadn’t even been on his mind until he actually had to confront the words he was about to say.
“Turns out,” Geralt said slowly, feeling out the words in his mouth, “since I can feel. Turns out that I-- I--” Geralt cut himself off with a frustrated breath.
Jaskier stood from his place at the table across from Geralt, and somewhere deep inside himself where there still lived a hurt and confused child, Geralt was certain he was going to leave him there and never come back. But Jaskier simply walked around the table to take the seat next to him, scooting it close enough that their bodies pressed together, and grabbing Geralt’s hands lightly in his own so that Geralt could pull away if he wanted.
“Tell me,” he whispered, eyes filled with patience and something Geralt couldn’t place. “Please?”
Geralt took a deep breath. “I love you.”
Jaskier froze next to him. “ What ?”
Geralt was sure he felt something in his chest shatter and he felt the strange urge to apologize. And then to make things worse , Jaskier started giggling. Then he started laughing fully, having the gall to lean into Geralt and hold Geralt’s hands close to his chest while having that kind of reaction. Geralt tried to tug his hands back, but Jaskier tightened his grip.
“No, no, dear heart,” Jaskier said, scooting his chair impossibly closer. “I’m not laughing at you, cross my heart. Darling, I’m laughing from relief . Very silly, I know, but my choices were either laugh or cry and I figured this one would worry you less, so I just--”
It was Geralt’s turn to say, “ What ?”
One of Jaskier’s hands released his and came up to cup Geralt’s face, turn his gaze towards him. Geralt couldn’t help but lean into the touch, just like Ciri had done to him that morning (he resisted the urge to kiss Jaskier’s palm), and Jaskier smiled wider at the motion.
“Of course I love you, too, you oaf . Twenty-two years of following you around like a heartsick puppy and you never picked that up?”
Geralt’s voice came out strangled, “I-- no !”
Jaskier giggled again. “I should’ve been more obvious and forward with it, knowing you, I suppose.” Then his brow furrowed. “I still don’t understand what this has to do with me, or Roach for that matter, being immortal .”
Geralt groaned and buried his head in his hands for a moment. When he looked up again, Jaskier was giving him the most besotted look, and he had to look away again in fear he would keel over from the sheer adoration in his gaze.
“Yennefer says that my love for the two of you is… so intense that it became infused with chaos, with magic. My love has tied our lifelines together, so you’ll both live as long as I do, exempting any fatal wounds or illness.”
Geralt risked looking over at him, and Jaskier looked positively giddy . Geralt almost had to look away again, but Jaskier started moving again and he couldn’t bring himself to. Jaskier swung himself into Geralt’s lap, straddling him on the chair so that they faced each other, and wrapped his arms around Geralt’s neck. Geralt wrapped his arms around Jaskier’s waist on instinct to keep him from falling.
Jaskier brought one hand away from his neck to poke at Geralt’s chest smugly, a grin forming to match. “ You love me,” he bragged. “You love me so damn much that your love did fucking magic so that we’d be together forever.”
“Yes,” Geralt said, forever grateful that witchers couldn’t blush.
“You love me.” Jaskier said, playing with inflections. “You love me . You love me . You love me .”
Despite still being mortally embarrassed, Geralt grinned at him. “Would you like me to say it again?” He teased.
Jaskier lit up more, because somehow that was possible when he was already shining brighter than the sun. “Oh, absolutely .”
Geralt’s smile softened. “I love you.” It seemed like the words got easier to say every time.
Jaskier melted against him with a sigh.
“I love you.”
He earned a kiss to his jaw.
“I love you.”
A kiss to the cheek.
“ I love you.”
To the temple.
“I love you .”
To the forehead.
“ I love you .”
His nose.
“ I love you .”
His chin.
Jaskier pulled back again and gave him a look so filled with love that Geralt’s mouth went dry. “I love you, too,” he whispered.
He barely managed to get the words out before Geralt’s lips connected with his. Jaskier made a surprised sound, but quickly melted into Geralt with a contented sigh. One of Jaskier’s hands slid up to tangle with his hair and Geralt groaned against his lips. His own hands splayed against the expanse of Jaskier’s back and pulled him impossibly closer.
They kissed gently for long minutes before Geralt pulled up as it started to grow more and more heated. He wanted to bask in the soft moment awhile longer, if he was able, and Jaskier seemed to have no complaints. He simply rested his forehead against Geralt’s, smiling gently as they shared their breaths.
“How long?” Jaskier eventually asked, voice so soft that if Geralt wasn’t a witcher, he wasn’t sure he would’ve heard, even with their proximity to each other.
“I don’t know,” Geralt murmured truthfully. “How long has it been since you’ve noticed yourself aging?”
At that Jaskier actually pulled back, brow furrowing. His eyes darted around the room as he searched his own thoughts and Geralt waited patiently. It took a few minutes, but Jaskier finally cocked his head and squinted a little.
“Maybe early twenties? It’s hard to pinpoint, you know? You don’t change much as you start growing into adulthood.” Then he paused, turning a fake glare on Geralt (and he only knew it was fake because that honey-sweet smell wasn’t soured by anything rancid). “You mean to tell me we could’ve been doing this for decades already? Melitele’s tits Geralt, have you any clue how long I’ve wanted to kiss you?!”
Geralt smirked. “How long?” He rumbled, mostly teasing.
“Since the moment I saw you in that damn tavern in Posada.”
Geralt raised an eyebrow.
“Granted, I fell in lust before I fell in love. I fell in infatuation with you later that day, during our little scuffle with the elves--”
“It wasn’t a scuffle, we were tied at their mercy--”
“ But ,” Jaskier continued, giving Geralt a pointed look and a flick to the chest for interrupting him, “I fell in love with you a little more slowly. It was the small things, really. I was totally gone on you before I was twenty, though.”
Geralt smiled again. “Good to know.”
“Now,” Jaskier said. “I’m beyond ready for every wonderful thing this new relationship status is going to bring, but let me tell you, the thing I want to do most right now is to hold you and be held by you and lazily makeout in bed for hours without it going anywhere. Possibly also nap together. And whisper sweet nothings.”
Geralt chuckled. “Is that so?”
He rose from his chair and Jaskier yelped and grabbed tighter around his neck. He giggled as Geralt helped him wrap his legs around Geralt’s hips and gave him another kiss on the cheek in return. Carrying him bridal-style was probably more romantic, but Geralt never claimed to be a romantic. He gripped Jaskier by his thighs and carried him back to his -- their -- temporary room tossing Jaskier on the bed.
Jaskier grinned as he bounced before shucking off his doublet and boots and crawling up to the pillows at the headboard. Geralt followed quickly after him, suddenly glad he hadn’t bothered making himself presentable because it would’ve just delayed him getting his hands and lips back on Jaskier.
The first thing Jaskier did was reach up and tug the leather band out of his hair, the strands he usually had pulled up falling loose to frame his face. Jaskier stuck his tongue out playfully as he shook Geralt's hair out, making it fluffy and fly-away. In revenge, Geralt scrubbed a hand against Jaskier’s hair and laughed at the yelp he produced at the treatment, shoving Geralt’s hand away.
And then Jaskier pulled him down to the bed and wrapped himself around his body. Geralt, in turn, wrapped himself tightly around Jaskier. They couldn’t tell where one of them ended and the other began, and it was perfect.
“It’s not fair how much I love you,” Jaskier murmured against his lips.
“How unreasonable,” Geralt teased.
And they kissed. And kissed again. And again, and again, and again, and Geralt was certain he would absolutely never get sick of kissing Jaskier, no matter how much he was bound to demand it.