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It was movie night. Their movie night. The movie night where they bought too many sweets (almost all of which would be eaten by Jaskier) and made popcorn, (which would be hogged by Geralt, though he never admits it) and they pile the couch up with pillows and blankets and pop in a favorite movie or two. Or three. It was on the first Friday of the month so they could guarantee they’d both be able to get spectacularly drunk and in all the time since they started it, they’ve never missed it.
“You’re missing movie night?” Jaskier asked, offended.
Geralt shrugged on his leather jacket and checked himself in the hallway mirror, which just added to the bizarreness of the evening. “I forgot,” he said, barely holding back a wince at his reflection like he wasn’t the most gorgeous thing to be put on this planet. “Yenn sounded pretty serious and even if I did remember, it wouldn’t sound great to ask if we could reschedule so I could watch a movie with my roommate.”
“Roommate the man says,” Jaskier scoffed. “As if we haven’t been best friends since university. First year, no less.”
“We’re not best friends,” Geralt said, a bit muffled by the hair tie between his teeth as he pulled the top bit of his hair back into his favorite style.
“That argument stopped working years ago, darling.” The thought of Geralt ditching him for his on and off ex-girlfriend hurt on a regular day but on their movie night it was a new kind of sting. He had to give the woman props for still finding new ways to get at him after all this time. It was no use arguing that Geralt would just walk away hurt again, as badly as he wanted to try and yell some sense at him. All that ever did was lead to a fight which always skirted way too close to Jaskier slipping up about his feelings and ended with them not talking for a week, driving Geralt even closer to that witch. It was already a gamble every time they got back together whether or not Geralt would leave him for good and move in with her.
Geralt's hair tie snapped as he stretched it with his hand and he growled in frustration.
“Hush with the theatrics,” Jaskier said, already sliding off the spare he kept on his wrist for these exact occasions. “Let me do it.” He came up behind Geralt, swatting his hands out of the way and ran his fingers through the long, white hair a few times to gather the right amount in the back, all too aware of Geralt looking at him through the mirror as he perhaps spent a little longer than necessary tying it. He could smell the scent of Geralt’s deodorant mixing with leather and he wished he could just lean forward and rest his head on him and ask him to stay.
“All better,” Jaskier said softly.
“Hm.” The tone was appreciative.
There was no way Jaskier was getting through this night sober. Not with Geralt’s “don’t wait up” as he left and not with the sting of rejection that said he’d never come first, no matter what. He didn’t feel like going out. Being near people sounded excruciating. He decided he’d do what he did every month on this day and get very drunk while watching a movie. After a trip to the store, he found himself on the couch alone with a pack of beer and a bottle of whiskey.
He pressed ‘play’ and settled in for Bridget Jones’s Diary. One of them deserved to get the blunt, taciturn, yet kind-hearted man tonight.
It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair to Geralt for him to keep giving up his heart to someone who just wanted to use him; for attention, for favors, just so she could feel loved, Jaskier didn’t know. What he knew is how much it hurt to see someone else make Geralt happy just to break him over and over. It hurt to pick up the pieces, no time to mend himself. If Yennefer was good to Geralt and he was genuinely happy and stayed happy, it might’ve broken Jaskier’s heart but he’d be too happy for Geralt to resent it. All he wanted to see was Geralt taken care of but no one won the game Yennefer played.
By the time Bridget was running after her Darcy in the snow, Jaskier was already on the way to being very, very drunk. He downed another shot as they kissed. This was pathetic. Who was he to look down on Geralt for having an ongoing, if slightly problematic relationship for a few years when Jaskier could hardly keep a relationship going for more than 5 months. It never failed to be a surprise when people broke up with him. For some reason he never saw it coming. Every time he thought he found someone who would finally get his mind off Geralt once and for all he always found himself on his ass, right back where he started. There was no Colin Firth to sweep him off his feet.
The credits rolled. God, when did he start crying?
He turned on While You Were Sleeping because he might as well keep the romcom theme going even though he already knew he wouldn’t be paying attention.
He focused more on the whiskey than he did the beer and let himself cry it out because he might as well get this over with while Geralt was gone. He wondered what Geralt was doing. Did he take her out to dinner at a restaurant? Did they go to a bar? Has he already brought her back home, agreeing to try again even though she had been the one to break it off in the first place? Were they in bed together? Jaskier felt nauseous thinking about her touching Geralt, already knowing what he likes. At some point, his crying faded out and he was left feeling as empty and undesirable as he did every time he let himself cry over this.
The lock to the front door clicked and Jaskier briefly considered the chances of someone breaking in before the door opened and he heard Geralt’s unmistakeable footsteps.
“Jaskier?” Geralt called out. Just his luck. There was nothing he wanted more than to avoid Geralt seeing him like this right now. “Jask, is it too late for-”
Jaskier looked up, surprised to see Geralt suddenly very close, draping his jacket over the side of the couch. “Why’re you home?”
“What?”
“You,” Jaskier said, pointing, “you never, ever come home. Not after a Yennefer date.” He could hear himself slurring.
“Did you drink all this by yourself?” Geralt picked up an empty beer can, looking at the others on the floor.
“You’re not my mom.” Jaskier’s throat felt tight and he felt tears threatening to spill over. He was already miserable, he didn’t need Geralt to rub it in.
Geralt huffed a laugh but his face quickly turned concerned when a small sound managed to escape Jaskier and the tears let loose. “Jask, what’s wrong? What happened?”
“Nothing, I’m fine,” Jaskier lied.
“Is this because I missed movie night?” Geralt asked and it sounded so outlandishly childish coming out of his mouth it made Jaskier embarrassed that he had been sad about it at all. Geralt sat down next to him.
“No,” Jaskier said, which was a partial truth, wiggling away as Geralt tried to pull him into a hug. He could smell perfume on him and he didn’t really need the reminder.“It’s nothing.”
“Jaskier, you should’ve told me something was wrong. I could’ve rescheduled.”
“You wouldn’t’ve. You don’t care and no one cares and I don’t care that no one cares,” Jaskier said, his voice pitching upward as a fresh wave of crying starting up.
Geralt had a wounded look. “I care.”
Jaskier shook his head. “It’s okay you don’t ‘cause… ‘cause I’m happy.” He felt like he got his point across about being happy that Geralt was happy but by the look on Geralt’s face he was probably wrong.
“You don’t look very happy,” Geralt said, gently. Too gently. Jaskier was starting to want that hug even if it did smell like Yennefer.
“If you can’t be happy, at least you can be drunk,” Jaskier joked, his accompanying smile not reaching his eyes. He booped Geralt’s nose in an attempt to get the frown off his face but he remained looking very unamused.
“Alright, we’re getting you to bed. You’re not making sense,” Geralt said.
“Noooo,” Jaskier whined, trying to grab the half empty bottle on the table as Geralt hoisted him up. He halfheartedly shoved at his chest. “Jus.. jus’ let me finish. They haven’t even figured out Sandra isn’t engaged to him yet.”
“You’ll thank me in the morning.”
“I can thank you right now,” he said in a sing-song voice, the words coming out sounding clogged from the crying. Geralt ignored him and continued walking him to his bedroom. When he laid him down, Jaskier closed his eyes to the room spinning. A hand gently brushed his hair out of his face and the bed dipped next to him as Geralt stroked his hair. It wasn’t often he got Geralt to initiate touch. He almost wished he was sober enough to appreciate it.
“I wish you’d tell me what was bothering you,” Geralt said.
“Don’t want you to hate me,” Jaskier mumbled, suddenly feeling very, very tired.
“I could never hate you.”
“You could never love me back, either.”
The hand in his hair froze and Jaskier realized what he just said. Geralt was quiet for too long and Jaskier wished the bed would just swallow him whole.
“What do you mean?” Geralt asked, sounding too much like he understood.
“Please don’t,” Jaskier said, screwing his eyes shut. “M too drunk for this.”
“Jaskier, I…”
“Geralt, I mean it. Whatever you think is going to make it better I can’t deal with it right now. You should jus’ go.”
“But I do love you back.” The words sounded like it hurt saying them.
Jaskier opened his eyes. Was he that pitiful of a sight? The tears welled up again. “See that… that is exactly what I was trying to avoid. You- you stupid self-sacrificing… I’m fine! I’ve been fine with it and I don’t need you to say that or, or tell me you love me like a friend ‘cause I’m okay. I don’t expect anything from you.”
Geralt was looking at him, bewildered. “Jaskier, I wasn’t trying to-“
“Get out, Geralt,” Jaskier pleaded.
Geralt took a deep breath, visibly frustrated. “I’m trying to tell you I love you. And not as a friend. And not because you’re crying. Will you please listen to me?”
Stunned into silence, Jaskier nodded. He now desperately wanted to be sober, not sure if he was still somehow misinterpreting something.
Geralt looked like he would rather be doing anything but talk. He took another breath. “The entire time I was out with Yenn, all I could think about was how much I wanted to be back here with you and I felt bad for dropping our plans last minute and then she told me she was surprised we hadn’t gotten together yet. I… I guess I realized how much that disappointed me.”
Jaskier stares at him trying very hard to process all of that.
Geralt shrugged. “I love you. And I’m sorry about tonight. I was a dick.”
Jaskier sniffled. “You were a dick. And you better be really fucking serious about all of that or I will be very sad tomorrow.”
Geralt gave him a fond smile and leaned forward, pressing a kiss to his forehead. “I promise I’m very fucking serious,” he said dryly.
Jaskier sent up a thank you to whoever the goddess of rom coms was when he woke up wrapped in Geralt’s arms and was able to bask in it for as long as he wanted.