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Jaskier was just another aspiring musician working in a coffee shop. He was good with people and liked working with his best friend, Triss, but mostly he hated the soul-crushing, mind-numbing “What can I get you?” patter, and being expected to smile into the face of disdain, or worse, indifference.
He stuck it out because this shop was quirky and cozy, and, even better, it had live music on Thursday nights. He was working on convincing the owner, Calanthe, to give him a chance. Calanthe didn’t like being told what to do, or even the merest suggestion that one was doing so. She had really missed her calling as an army general, or perhaps warrior queen. So far Jaskier had been met with a hard no, despite texting her the most lovely of demos. But he could see the cracks appearing, if only because he knew Calanthe would cave before he did. She took no shit, but Jaskier was young, charming, and had nowhere else to be.
In the meantime, it was another dreary Monday morning with Triss next to him at the till. He was dying to tell her about the sex god he had hooked up with Saturday night, but he had run in the door almost late (almost) and there had been a constant stream of customers since.
“What are you so smug about?” she whispered to him hastily, catching a moment when a customer was slow to put their change away.
Jaskier looked at her and wiggled his eyebrows, doing his best 'cat that ate the canary' look.
She rolled her eyes at him fondly. He was about to go so far as to wink a bright blue eye at her, when he suddenly felt a rather large presence looming on the other side of the counter. (Was it looming? Yes, there was definite looming. This man actually seemed to block out some of the light filtering in through the large front windows).
Jaskier turned and found himself looking up into the face of the most beautiful human being he had ever seen in his life. His jaw dropped, his cheeks flushed a fiery red, and, had he been a cartoon, his eyes most certainly would have done that 'boing-oing-oing' thing.
The man was a little taller than Jaskier, very much broader, and couldn’t have been more than 40 despite the long silver-white hair partially pulled back from his face. His eyes were an unusual shade of light brown that Jaskier could only describe as golden, and he was wearing a fitted charcoal grey dress shirt with buttons straining to maintain respectability across his massive chest.
Fortunately, the man was glaring intently at the menu board above and Jaskier had a few seconds to get his shit together, assisted by a kick to his ankle from Triss.
Yup, he was definitely gawking.
“Good morning!” Jaskier announced, perhaps a little too loudly, eyes a little too wide. “What can I get for you, sir?”
The man met Jaskier’s gaze, and his cheeks burned even hotter. What was happening to him?
“Double espresso, to go. Please,” he rumbled, in the deepest, sexiest voice Jaskier had ever heard.
“Absolutely! One double espresso coming right up! Can I get a name?”
“Geralt.” This man’s picture could be in the dictionary next to ‘intense.’ His gaze was heavy, his jaw cut from granite, forehead furrowed.
“Geralt! Thank you!” Dear gods, why am I yelling? “$2.85, please.”
As Geralt handed him a five, Jaskier could sense Triss smirking. Geralt shook his head at the offered change, said thank you, and moved down the counter to wait for his drink.
Jaskier flashed a wide-eyed glance at Triss which he hoped said something like 'holy fuck,' and did his best to give his undivided attention to the harried mother who was next in line, her children wrapped around her legs.
He took her order, winking at the kids, but managed to shoot several glances Geralt’s way. Geralt was frowning down at his phone, seemingly annoyed. Jaskier wondered if Geralt’s hands were strong enough to simply crush his phone should the urge strike him. He imagined what it would feel like to have those hands sliding down his-
“Ow!” he yelped when Triss kicked him again. Jaskier took a deep breath and turned to the next customer with a slightly manic smile. By the time he was finished taking the order, Geralt was leaving, drink in hand.
Jaskier watched those muscled shoulders and that narrow waist leave the shop.
Triss was watching him with a full-on grin. “That’s it? You’re just going to let him leave?”
Jaskier sighed, his stomach still swirling from the shock of being faced with such chiseled beauty. “I don’t even know if he’s gay. If it’s meant to be, he’ll come back. Destiny will bring Geralt back to me.”
* * * *
Destiny was a fucking bitch.
It had been four more days with no sign of that silver hair or those golden eyes. Jaskier didn’t want to admit how much time he had spent thinking about Geralt, but it was definitely an unhealthy amount, considering they had exchanged about 20 words for a coffee order. Jaskier had convinced himself that it was ridiculous and he hadn’t even really been that hot. Except yes he fucking was.
His Friday shift was wrapping up and the shop was slowing down. Jaskier’s thoughts turned to his plans for the night. Maybe he would text the sex god from last weekend… although now compared to Geralt he seemed - OH, MY GODS, STOP.
As Jaskier blinked himself to the present, he saw Triss staring at him. Her eyes widened and she jerked her head at the door.
Jaskier turned and felt his heart leap into his throat at the sight of that golden gaze.
Geralt.
Jaskier saw Triss suddenly looking very busy wiping down the back counter, leaving him open to take Geralt’s order. He nervously ran his fingers through his wavy brown hair and turned his smile up to dazzling as Geralt approached. He was wearing another fitted dress shirt - textured light grey this time - with impossibly perfect slacks.
Jaskier did not imagine just for a second what his ass might look like.
“Good afternoon, Geralt…” Fuck, is it creepy that I remembered his name? “It was Geralt, wasn’t it?” he added, lamely, hoping the feigned uncertainty would forestall any serial killer alarm bells.
Geralt looked a little surprised for a brief moment, but his features smoothed over as he said, “Yes, that’s right. Double espresso to go, please…. Jaskier.” His eyes flicked to Jaskier’s name tag. Jaskier couldn’t help but feel a thrill at those luscious lips uttering his name, and it must have had a galvanizing effect on him.
“That will be $2.85, please.” He took a deep breath as Geralt handed him a five. “Do you work around here?”
Geralt’s brow quirked as he again shook his head for the offered change. “Yes, I just started working across the street.”
“Oh, well, welcome to the neighbourhood!” Jaskier could hear his heart hammering in his ears. He smiled his best sexy-but-not-aggressively-so smile as Geralt nodded at him and moved down the counter.
Jaskier kept pretend-busy around the till, shooting furtive glances at Geralt until he turned to leave with his coffee. Jaskier was definitely not checking out that tight ass when Geralt glanced back at him on his way out the door. Their eyes locked and the corner of Geralt’s mouth lifted the tiniest bit in an almost smile.
Jaskier did not text the sex god that weekend.
* * * *
“You’re going to hurt yourself if you keep looking at the door like that,” Triss snickered at him, her freckled nose crinkling.
Jaskier was feeling rather deflated when Geralt hadn’t come in Monday morning, (yes, fine, point taken, he was violently whipping his head towards the door every time it opened) but then just after noon, suddenly, there he was.
Geralt paused to hold the door for a man who was leaving, and was bathed in the warm afternoon sunshine for a moment. Jaskier felt his pulse start to race and his palms sweat. This man could not be any more beautiful. He was wearing the same charcoal grey dress shirt as last Monday, Jaskier was pretty sure, but this time was carrying a slim laptop bag on his shoulder.
Due to a cruel twist of fate, and a painfully slow woman digging in her purse for change, Triss took his order this time. Jaskier did his best to pretend each cell of his body was not acutely aware of Geralt’s every breath as he helped the, quite frankly, rather rude woman count a pile of coins.
Geralt nodded at him as he went to wait for his drink.
Jaskier watched Geralt take his espresso and wind through some battered armchairs before settling down at a small round table by the window. He pulled out his laptop and started reading something intently as he sipped his drink. Jaskier might have actually groaned quietly when Geralt tucked a stray piece of glowing-white hair behind his ear. Even his ears were attractive.
There was a lull in the line-up. “Get over there,” Triss hissed at him.
“What?” Jaskier hissed back. “What possible reason could I have for going over there?”
“That has literally never stopped you before,” Triss said wryly. She narrowed her eyes at him. “Wow, you are gone on this guy.”
“Would you shut up!” he admonished her, noticing that Sabrina was lingering nearby and likely listening, that nosy bitch. Actually, wait a second… Sabrina was carrying a tub for bussing the tables.
“Sabrina, darling! Can you cover the till for me for a minute?” Jaskier all but snatched the tub from her.
Sabrina rolled her eyes at him. “Sure, Jaskier. But you owe me one.”
“I owe you?” he sputtered. “I’m actually bussing tables for you-”
“Thanks, Sabrina,” Triss interrupted with a pointed look at Jaskier. “You’re such an idiot. Go.”
Jaskier wiped his palms on his pants, took a deep breath, and oh-so-nonchalantly meandered his way towards Geralt’s table. In all this time, the broad-shouldered man hadn’t so much as glanced up from his screen.
Jaskier licked his suddenly very dry lips and tried to casually clear the table next to Geralt. So casually, in fact, that he wasn’t paying attention to what he was doing quite well enough. Gods, look how tight his shirt is on his biceps. A mug crashed loudly against a plate.
Geralt looked up with a slight frown, saw Jaskier standing there awkwardly, and went right back to his screen. Jaskier felt his face flush as he turned and scrambled back behind the counter as quickly as he could.
Triss shot him a sympathetic look as Jaskier pushed his way into the back with his mostly-empty tub. Sabrina actually cackled at him, that tiresome witch.
Jaskier barely managed to drag himself back to the till and take his spot back from Sabrina. He almost didn’t dare to look over at Geralt, but, well, almost. He saw that Geralt was packing up his laptop. And he was walking over towards Jaskier with his empty cup.
Jaskier froze, unable to do anything but watch him approach.
Geralt gently placed the cup on the counter, looked him square in the eyes, his furrowed brow softening for a moment. “Thank you, Jaskier. See you next time.”
Jaskier managed to squeak out an appropriate response, and found himself holding his breath as Geralt left the shop. He let it out in a rush as Triss grabbed his arm.
“Eeeeee!” they squealed at each other.
“Oh my gods, are you teenage girls?” Sabrina snarked.
“You would know,” Jaskier snapped back at her, not even sure what that meant, but not caring one fucking bit.
* * * *
The next day Jaskier was leaning on the counter in the back room taking his break with a latte, phone in hand. The building across the street was called Kaedwen Tower and it contained no fewer than 27 businesses. Jaskier started Googling them one at time with “Geralt”. Thank the gods he had an unusual name. Because at business number seventeen, there he was. Geralt Rivia, the newest addition to Vesemir & Sons, the high-powered law firm occupying the top four floors of the tower.
Jaskier studied the picture on the website, trying to decide if Geralt was hotter in person or in the picture. The Geralt gazing back at him from his phone was wearing a full on suit, and Jaskier had a thing for men in suits. He got a bit lost in those golden eyes, and Jaskier found himself daydreaming about having a lawyer for a boyfriend. He’d come home at the end of the day, shrug out of his suit jacket, Jaskier would pour him a drink, and help him loosen his tie…
“Julian!” His boss’ sharp voice snapped him back to reality. His real name was Julian, and for some reason Calanthe liked to use it. Appropriate for an authority figure, he supposed, because while Jaskier was a charming, carefree musician, Julian was a fumbling, constantly-disappointing mess. According to his parents, anyway.
“Calanthe!” he jumped up, nearly spilling his drink.
“Your break’s over.”
“Yes, you bet, boss. Hey, while I’ve got you…” Calanthe had already turned away to head into her office and Jaskier followed. “Sooo, Thursday nights.”
“No.”
“No? Just… no?”
“No.”
“But, I-”
“Look, Julian. I don’t need any more artists right now. Thanks,” Calanthe dismissed him as her phone rang. “Yes?” she said into it, then glared at Jaskier and waved him out of the room.
He gave her his best pout and slowly eased out.
“Are you kidding me?” she snapped into her phone.
Jaskier paused just out of sight and heard her finish her conversation, a spark of hope alight in his chest. Perhaps Thursday night might work out after all...
“Julian, I know you’re out there,” she called to him.
He slipped back in, trying to look sheepish but not quite pulling it off.
She sighed. “The Sirens were supposed to open this week and they just cancelled. I’m not saying you’re in,” she added hastily, seeing the expression on Jaskier’s face, “I’m just saying, send me two videos of you performing.”
“I’ve already sent them before, but, I mean, yes! Yes, of course!” Jaskier fumbled with his phone and sent her two recent videos he was pretty proud of, one cover and one original piece, then stood there expectantly.
“Stop staring at me, Julian. Just, go away. I’ll let you know.”
Jaskier nodded, might have fucking bowed, and barreled out of there to find Triss.
* * * *
An hour or so later, Jaskier and Triss were closing up when Calanthe appeared next to him.
“Okay, fine.” Calanthe held up a hand before he could start shrieking. He sucked in a huge breath and held it instead, watching her with wide eyes. “Give me a list of ten covers you do and I’ll pick three for Thursday night. Keep in mind this is just for this Thursday. Three. Songs. Okay?”
Jaskier nodded, cheeks bulging, eyes shining.
It was happening.
* * * *
“So I’ve been thinking,” Triss announced Wednesday morning as she rolled up to the counter, tying her apron behind her back, “you have to invite Geralt tomorrow night.”
“Um, no, I do not,” Jaskier gaped at her incredulously. “Are you being serious right now? Why on earth would Geralt want to watch me perform?”
“Uh, cause you’re adorable and he is interested in you.”
“No, he is not. He’s probably not even gay. I mean, sure, it’s fun to check him out when he orders his coffee, but even if he was gay, what could he possibly want with me? He’s impossibly attractive, he’s built like Superman, he’s probably filthy rich, he’s way older than me-”
“I’m going to stop you right there. You’re hot, too, dummy! It doesn’t matter if he’s rich, and I don’t think he’s that much older, it’s just the white hair. He can’t be more than 35. Ten years is nothing.”
“There is no way a man like that would want to date me.” Was there? “But fine. If he comes in today, I will invite him.”
Much to Jaskier’s relief (at least, he told himself it was relief), Geralt did not come in.
* * * *
Geralt did, however, come in on Thursday.
Calanthe had told Jaskier yesterday which three songs he would do tonight, and Jaskier’s acoustic guitar and a change of clothes were ready in the back room. He hadn’t performed in front of more than just a handful of people in a while, and his nerves were steadily building.
He was so focused on running through his set in his head that he didn’t even notice Geralt come in until he was standing in front of him at the counter. Geralt was wearing a full dark grey suit this time, with a matching shirt and a lighter grey tie, and was just absolute perfection.
“Wow,” Jaskier actually said out loud when he saw him. “I mean… that’s a nice suit,” he managed to squeeze out.
“Thank you,” Geralt replied, looking… pleased, actually? “I just came from court,” he offered.
“Oh, wow. You’re a lawyer?” Stop saying ‘wow’, Jaskier.
“Yes. I work at Vesemir & Sons.”
Jaskier nodded, almost relieved to have Geralt tell him this because now it was like he didn’t even stalk him, right? Jaskier desperately wracked his brain for something to say, while another voice in his head was yelling incoherently about inviting Geralt tonight. Fuck. The silence was stretching well into awkward.
“We have live music tonight,” came the voice of an angel. Triss. Bless her. But also… FUCK.
Geralt looked at Triss politely. “Oh?”
“Yes, we have shows Thursdays at 6:00. We like to feature local, up-and-coming artists and Jaskier here-” Triss clapped him on the shoulder, “-is actually performing tonight for the first time! You should totally come! He’s so talented.” She squeezed his shoulder reassuringly.
“Oh, really?” Geralt turned to look at Jaskier with apparent interest.
“I’m sure you already have plans,” Jaskier jumped in, “but yeah, sure, if you’re free and you’re in the neighbourhood, and you know, you feel like stopping by-”
Triss squeezed his shoulder again, this time more in a 'shut the fuck up' kind of way.
“Hmm. Well, I-” Geralt cleared his throat.
“I mean, you don’t have to of course…” Jaskier started to say, right as Geralt continued.
“I have a meeting with a client at 5:00…”
“Of course! You’re busy! It’s fine…”
“But yes, if I can…”
Jaskier wondered how long he was doomed to stand there interrupting Geralt.
Mercifully, Triss rescued him again. “Can I get you a drink?”
Geralt looked relieved and ordered his usual.
When he left, Jaskier didn’t know whether to laugh or cry.
* * * *
Jaskier got increasingly fidgety as 6:00 approached, chewing five pieces of gum and shredding several napkins.
When 6:00 finally arrived, Geralt wasn’t there yet. Calanthe was at the mic standing on a small platform that served as a stage, welcoming the not insubstantial crowd.
Jaskier stood off to the side holding his guitar, desperately trying to not stare at the door.
And then right as Jaskier was making his way up to the microphone, Geralt walked in. Jaskier nearly fell onto the stage when he saw him. Gods, that suit.
Jaskier’s performance went well, although perhaps with a bit of a jittery, uncertain energy that didn’t feel quite right.
He found himself unable to look at Geralt for long, his eyes flicking from person to person instead. Jaskier chalked it up to nerves, having not played for a crowd of strangers in a while. He hoped Calanthe would be happy enough that she’d have him back.
The crowd applauded enthusiastically when he finished, and Jaskier smiled, bobbing his head appreciatively. He stepped off the small stage and saw Geralt moving towards him.
“Your meeting ended in time…” Jaskier smiled at him, gently resting his guitar on the ground in front of him.
“Yes. It did. That was very- You were… good,” Geralt said, seemingly focusing on the wall behind him.
“Uh, thank you.” Jaskier smiled awkwardly and felt the invitation to grab a drink sitting heavy on his tongue.
“Excuse me, Jaskier?” a voice from behind him interrupted and Jaskier turned to see a petite brown-haired young woman smiling at him. “Hi, I’m sorry, I just wanted to say that you were amazing.”
She was beautiful and confident, and not a single thing about her said ‘sorry’, actually.
“Oh, thank you so much,” Jaskier said politely, intensely aware of the large man in the exquisite suit hovering at the edge of his vision.
She took a step closer and rested a hand on his arm. “Really, really amazing,” she breathed at him.
Jaskier leaned away as he turned back to Geralt, hoping the woman would notice she had interrupted a conversation.
“I should get going...” Geralt was saying, pointing his thumb at the door, right as Jaskier turned.
Jaskier’s heart fell but he did his best to not let his smile falter. “Yes, of course. You should go. Thank you for coming.” He picked up his guitar again.
Geralt looked like he wanted to say something, but instead gave Jaskier a tiny smile, really no more than one corner of his mouth stretching the slightest bit upward, and just like that, he was gone.
The woman continued to talk about how amazing he was, Jaskier nodding halfheartedly, murmuring thanks as he did his best to extricate himself from her attentions.
Triss came scurrying over and wrapped herself around him with a squeal. That did it. The brunette slinked off, scowling at Triss.
“Oh my gods, he came! And you were incredible! Seriously, Jask, you were so, so good!” Triss took his arm and chattered away excitedly as they made their way to the back to stash Jaskier’s guitar before the headliner began.
Jaskier laughed along with her and nodded, and did his best to pretend that he wasn’t completely and totally replaying every second of his conversation with Geralt, wondering why he had left so suddenly, and trying not to feel completely shattered by it.
* * * *
“Jaskier, listen to me. He is a hundred percent interested in you. He would not have come if he wasn’t. There’s just no way.”
It was Friday morning, and Triss and Jaskier were on the bar today, which allowed for slightly longer snatches of conversation. They’d had much the same discussion last night, and Jaskier knew everything she was saying made sense, but he couldn’t shake the feeling of disappointment in Geralt’s hurried departure.
“That little vamp just scared him off.”
Jaskier nodded and was about to reply, when he saw Geralt come in.
“Are you kidding me?” he moaned under his breath at Triss, taking in the sight before him.
Geralt was wearing a crisp light grey suit over a white shirt with a slate-coloured tie, laptop bag over his shoulder. He tried not to stare as Geralt ordered his double espresso, then watched as Geralt approached them.
“Good morning,” he said, meeting Jaskier’s eye.
“Good morning,” Jaskier replied, suddenly feeling shy, attention wandering from the drink he was making.
“How are you today?” Geralt asked, piercing Jaskier with his gaze. Did this man do everything so intensely, including saying good morning?
“I’m fine. Yes, good. I- How are you, Geralt?”
“Good, thank you.”
Jaskier ducked his head, unable to take the heat, and hurried to get to Geralt’s drink, aware that Geralt was still watching him. Jaskier placed the espresso on the counter when it was ready. “Here you go. Enjoy.”
Geralt nodded crisply and thanked him, before heading over to the same table by the window and pulling out his laptop.
Stop staring, Jaskier told himself, trying to play it the tiniest bit cool. Don’t look. Then he immediately looked.
And Geralt was looking back.
“He came to watch you sing, Jaskier. Get over there and talk to him,” Triss whispered furiously at him. “Oh, are you on break now?” she asked loudly, as Calanthe came out of the back, clipboard in hand. Triss all but took his apron off for him and shoved him out from behind the counter.
Jaskier felt his heart racing and took a steadying breath. As he approached Geralt, the silver head looked up at him. Jaskier felt like he might throw up in that moment, bracing himself for Geralt to look right back at his laptop screen. Instead… Geralt smiled.
“Hello,” he rasped, in that impossibly deep, sexy voice.
“Hi,” Jaskier said softly.
“Would you like to sit down?” Geralt reached over and pushed the other chair out a bit, leaning awfully close to Jaskier’s crotch. Jaskier felt his cheeks flare again.
“I’d love to,” he mumbled, sliding into the chair and pretzeling his legs under the table to avoid bumping them into Geralt’s. “Thank you again for coming last night. I haven’t played in front of a crowd in a long time. I don’t even really remember how it went, it’s all a bit of a blur actually,” he laughed nervously.
“It was- you’re welcome. I don’t know a lot about music but I thought you were very good.”
Jaskier noticed that Geralt sat very still, his hands in his lap, while his own leg jittered and his fingers tapped his thighs. Gods, he was so obvious.
“You played ‘I’ll Follow the Sun’,” Geralt continued. “That’s one of my brother Eskel’s favourite songs.”
“It’s one of mine, too.” Jaskier shifted and his knee bumped against Geralt’s under the table. Their eyes met in acknowledgement of the contact and Jaskier felt a small jolt of electricity.
“So, you’re a big, fancy lawyer?” he blurted to ease the tension, again eyeing Geralt’s suit appreciatively. Geralt actually softly chucked, and if that wasn’t the best sound Jaskier had ever heard.
“Fancy, no. Conrad Vesemir is actually my father-”
“Wait, you’re the ‘and Sons’?” Jaskier just about yelped. Fancy? That didn’t even begin…
Geralt shifted uncomfortably in his seat. “I’m one of. My father has three sons, and yes, we all work for him. I have spent the last ten years or so working for our satellite firms around the continent, dealing with whatever monster cases they needed help with. I just decided I’d had enough and wanted to stay here for a while.”
That was the most words Jaskier had heard out of Geralt’s mouth at once and he was desperate to keep them coming. However, he noticed Calanthe staring him down pretty hard from behind the till. “I should probably get back there, my boss doesn’t like it when we sit out here…”
It looked like Geralt wanted to say something and Jaskier froze, wanting to give him as much time as he needed. Geralt looked down at his hands, took a deep breath, and when his eyes swept up to meet Jaskier’s through his long lashes, Jaskier was done waiting.
He opened his mouth to ask Geralt if he wanted to go for dinner when Geralt’s phone rang. Jaskier saw 'Lambert' on the screen as Geralt scooped it off the table.
“Sorry,” he mouthed at Jaskier. “Yes?” he answered. He was already packing up his laptop when he said, “Yes, I’m on my way.” He turned to Jaskier, holding his phone away from his face, “I’m so sorry, it’s work, I need to go.”
“Yes, of course. I’ll talk to you next time.” Jaskier was already on his feet.
“Yes. Sorry again, I…” He looked Jaskier with what might have been regret. “I’ll see you Monday?”
“Sounds good.” Jaskier smiled wistfully and gave a small wave as Geralt hurried out the door, already issuing sharp commands into his phone.
Jaskier watched Geralt stride across the street, looking so powerful and intimidating in his suit, and flopped back down in the chair again once Geralt was out of sight. Who was he kidding? There was no way someone like Geralt would be interested in a struggling musician who gets him his coffee.
“Julian!” he heard Calanthe bark at him.
“Coming,” he sighed, more to himself than his boss. It would really be better if he just admired Geralt from behind the counter and left it at that.
* * * *
Monday morning Jaskier was determined to keep some distance from Geralt. It was fine to look at him, but nothing more was ever going to happen. And look he did.
Geralt was in a slick grey suit with a white shirt and a black tie. Another man with short dark hair, slightly smaller than Geralt, but also in excellent shape and in a very attractive three-piece suit, came in with him.
The man seemed to be arguing with Geralt, or at least explaining his side of an argument. Geralt looked partially amused, partially annoyed as the other man had yet to pause for breath.
They approached Jaskier at the counter, and Geralt smiled at him. Jaskier opened his mouth to say hello, but the other man was still going.
“So then this asshole says to me that he’s going to sue Yennefer for everything she’s got until she’s living under a bridge. Are you fucking kidding me? Where do I even start with this fucking guy. I mean, jurisdiction, - black coffee - let alone limitations! I’m gonna fucking crush him for wasting our time...” He never actually made eye contact with Jaskier, still glaring at Geralt and waving his arms around as his story continued.
Jaskier waited for Geralt to interrupt the man, or at least acknowledge his existence out loud. A small knot formed in his stomach.
“The usual?” Jaskier finally mouthed at Geralt, raising an eyebrow.
Geralt nodded and slid a ten across the counter. The other man was still going, his arm motions getting bigger and angrier.
Before they left with their drinks, Geralt looked back with a small nod.
The knot in Jaskier’s stomach grew. Not only did one of Geralt’s colleagues not even bother to look at him when he ordered his drink, Geralt seemed okay with that.
The cold realization washed over him. He was nothing. What, was Geralt supposed to bring a barista to the firm Christmas party? The idea was laughable. Jaskier felt his resolve harden. No sense wasting his time with a big-shot lawyer who didn’t give a shit how he was treated.
“Julian,” Calanthe appeared next to him at the till. “You can open again on Thursday. Give me ten more songs to choose from. Covers again.”
A wave of relief hit him. Calanthe thought he was good enough to get another shot - covers only so far, but that was okay - and this would give him something else to focus on.
* * * *
Tuesday Geralt was devastating in head-to-toe black. Fuck, how could a man look this good in a suit. It wasn’t even fair.
Sabrina was on the till next to him, and when the space in front of her opened up it was Geralt’s turn to order.
He waved the next customer ahead of him and Jaskier’s stomach immediately clenched up when he realized that Geralt wanted him. To take his order, that is. It doesn’t mean anything. Sabrina is just an insufferable cow.
“Good morning, Jaskier,” he rumbled, eyes molten gold and the corner of his mouth lifting when it was his turn.
“Hi, Geralt. No angry men with you today?” He’d meant it to sound like a joke, but the words were sour in his mouth.
Geralt looked at him a moment and nodded. “That was my brother, Lambert. He… gets worked up about things. It’s best to just let him run out of steam when he gets like that.” He shrugged, something heavy and unspoken between them.
His brother. Even worse, then. Geralt’s own family didn’t think he was worth looking at. Jaskier nodded with a small, sad smile. “Double espresso, coming up.”
Geralt nodded, handed Jaskier a bill, and looked like he wanted to say more, but instead gave him a small smile back and went to wait for his drink.
Jaskier watched him sit down at this usual table out of the corner of his eye, then very deliberately kept busy behind the counter, doing his best to avoid looking at Geralt at all.
* * * *
On Wednesday, the shop was slammed. Calanthe commandeered Jaskier into unloading some boxes in the back while Triss and Sabrina covered the tills. Jaskier only managed to catch a glimpse of Geralt waiting to order when someone pushed through the door.
Jaskier could see Geralt’s eyes scanning the shop, and when they met his, Geralt smiled for a moment, then the door swung closed again. Jaskier went back to his boxes, and didn’t think about the way it seemed that Geralt had been looking for him.
* * * *
Thursday Jaskier was on the bar making drinks again. Geralt came in wearing a bright blue shirt under his black suit. This was the first time Jaskier has seen him in anything but black, grey, and white, and he was a fan.
Geralt’s eyes found his the moment he got in the door.
Jaskier felt himself blushing under Geralt’s steady gaze, and he was acutely aware of the man’s large presence waiting in line. He tried to remember that Geralt stared intently at everything all the time, it wasn’t just for him. Geralt was a brooder.
“I like your shirt,” Jaskier smiled at him as he handed Geralt his drink. Their fingertips brushed lightly together, sending a spark down Jaskier’s arm. “I’ve never seen you in an actual colour before.” It was just polite to mention it when you liked someone’s outfit.
Geralt tilted his head and smiled back, eyes searching.
“Yes, I decided that I... like blue.”
Jaskier nodded. “It suits you.”
“Does it?” Geralt replied, voice low.
“Yes, it does.” Jaskier felt like he was going to melt if Geralt kept looking at him like that. He imagined how effective he must be in a courtroom when he was trying to be scary.
For a fraction of a second he thought about inviting Geralt to watch him sing tonight. But when he remembered the feeling of being completely ignored by Lambert, and Geralt being okay with that, he told Geralt to have a good day and turned to pick up the next mug.
* * * *
Jaskier was feeling jittery before going on again. Things had gone okay last time but he never really felt like he hit his stride. He was determined to shake off whatever was plaguing him and settle into this performance.
It was a good-sized crowd again. Triss and a few of their other friends were packed around a small table chatting excitedly. Triss beamed at him when they made eye contact and he felt a sudden flood of affection for her. It meant a lot that she never missed a performance.
Calanthe introduced him as he took the stage, Triss’ table cheering lustily.
He said hi to the crowd and launched into his first song. It was a crowd-pleaser, one he had performed many times. Even so, it still didn’t feel quite right.
He got plenty of applause though, and took a steadying breath before striking the first chord of song number two.
And then Geralt walked in.
Jaskier hesitated only the tiniest fraction of a second, but long enough that Triss turned to see what he was looking at, her face splitting into a wide grin.
She caught his eye and winked. So, Triss invited Geralt. Jaskier wasn’t sure how he felt about that. His heart knew though, because it started pounding.
He didn’t think anyone besides Triss had noticed his brief hesitation. His fingers automatically moved through the chords, the words spilling out without even thinking about them, as Jaskier watched Geralt find a seat at the back.
His jacket and tie were gone, the sleeves rolled up and a few buttons undone on the blue dress shirt. Chest hair peeking out. How was he supposed to perform with Geralt’s chest hair peeking out?
Jaskier couldn’t look away, and Geralt’s eyes found his. They held. Jaskier was flooded with warmth as he hit a high, clear note. His eyes closed as he continued, and he was flying. The song poured from him effortlessly, his voice soaring. This was it, right here. He found it.
As the last note faded, Jaskier opened his eyes.
Geralt was still looking at him, eyes warm as sunshine. Geralt was here, watching him sing, looking at him like he was the only person in the room. In the world, in fact. Geralt... in his blue shirt… that was the exact colour of Jaskier’s eyes.
The realization hit like a wave of water, forcing the air from his lungs. The audience was still applauding warmly and Jaskier desperately wanted nothing more than to drop his guitar on the floor and run into Geralt’s arms. But he had one more song to sing.
His eyes had not left Geralt’s. He knew which song, sending a silent apology to Calanthe, because this one had not been on the list. He began.
It's a little bit funny, this feeling inside
I'm not one of those who can easily hide
The audience quieted, Jaskier’s words and the emotion behind them settling over each person.
Oh, I know it's not much, but it's the best I can do
My gift is my song and this one's for you
Jaskier kept his eyes open this time, unable to look away from Geralt.
Anyway, the thing is, what I really mean
Yours are the sweetest eyes I've ever seen
Those gold eyes brightened as Geralt’s smile grew. The audience breathed as one, picking up on the magic unfolding around them.
And you can tell everybody this is your song
It may be quite simple but now that it's done
I hope you don't mind
I hope you don't mind
That I put down in words
How wonderful life is while you're in the world
A hush fell over the room as the last note faded. There were tears shining in more than a few pairs of eyes. The audience erupted into applause.
Jaskier could do nothing but smile at Geralt.
Geralt smiled back.
Jaskier jumped from the stage and felt Triss grab his guitar from him, squeezing his arm briefly. He didn’t even look.
He could see only Geralt, and watched him slowly stand tall with arms still at his side. Their eyes were locked, and the rest of the room vanishing.
He stopped, inches away. The two men smiled at each other, Jaskier’s heart still singing.
“You didn’t say anything,” he finally said, voice low and only for Geralt.
Geralt tilted his head and looked at him with soft eyes. “Neither did you.”
“I didn’t think you would be interested in your barista,” Jaskier shrugged, running his hand through his hair.
Geralt looked at him incredulously. “I came to watch you sing when I had only ever ordered coffee from you before. I actually-” he stopped abruptly, looking embarrassed.
“You what?” Jaskier said, creeping closer, until there was only a breath between them.
“I cancelled my meeting last week so I wouldn’t miss your singing. And then I even bought…” He stopped again, but this time Jaskier knew how to finish the sentence.
“You even bought a shirt the exact colour of my eyes,” he said softly.
Geralt nodded, his eyes drifting down to Jaskier’s lips then back up, gold melting into blue. Jaskier leaned in, every inch of skin tingling, and placed his lips gently on Geralt’s. Geralt huffed a contented sigh of relief and kissed him back, soft and sweet.
Jaskier pulled back an inch a moment later to gauge Geralt’s reaction, but one of Geralt’s hands slid around Jaskier’s waist and the other gently curled around the back of his neck. He pulled Jaskier closer and deepened the kiss. It was Jaskier’s turn to sigh happily, and his hands slid up Geralt’s back.
As their lips gently explored the other’s, inside he was cannons, fireworks, a hundred thousand butterflies.
“And a big thank you to Jaskier! Let’s hear it for him again!” Calanthe suddenly boomed over the microphone.
Jaskier reluctantly broke off the kiss and turned to face the crowd again, and was somewhat taken aback to see a room full of people watching and smiling.
He waved sheepishly and the crowd laughed and cheered, giving him another burst of applause. He looked at Calanthe who was watching him sardonically, but with what might have been affection in her eyes, and smiled at her.
“Thanks everyone! I’ll be back next week!” he called out, winking at her, and turned back to Geralt whose arms were still wrapped around him.
Calanthe shook her head, did her best to hide a smile, and introduced the next artist. When the man took the stage the crowd turned away, leaving Jaskier and Geralt to each other.
Jaskier kissed him again and carefully rested their foreheads together. “Geralt, would you like to go to dinner with me?”
“I thought you would never ask.”
Geralt took his hand, and Jaskier didn’t think he would ever get used to the feeling of the fire in those eyes looking at him.
Together, blue eyes and blue shirt, they walked out the door and into the night.