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Geralt is crammed into a three-piece suit. Well, he would be if he had not have shed the jacket the moment they were seated at their table. Jaskier sits across from him in a teal suit, much brighter a color than Geralt would ever wear but alarmingly subtle for Jaskier. Of course, he has a floral pattern on his shirt and a dark blue bow tie, so it isn’t really that subtle at all.
No, it makes him looks like the most extravagant thing in the room. Geralt catches himself thinking all those colors bring out the blue in his eyes in the most sinful way. That was likely the intent. He knows Geralt is a sucker for his eyes, after all. And tonight- well, it feels special.
Jaskier had informed him a few days ago that they had reservations to the Seven Cats, the nicest restaurant in town. The waitlist is over a month long, so the late notice was odd, but by how excited Jaskier seemed about it, Geralt almost assumed he forgot he made reservations. After how long they’ve known each other, there is no amount of scatter-brained nonsense that surprises him anymore.
The restaurant is the kind of place that probably would’ve kicked him out back when witchers had worse reputations. There are crystal chandeliers hanging overhead, dim, yellow light glimmering off of each priceless stone. Each table is covered in white cloth and sweet-smelling candles, and a musician plays on a grand piano in the corner of the room.
Geralt wastes no time scarfing down as much complimentary bread as he can muster, while Jaskier paces himself alarmingly well with the wine as they wait for their food. Yet, he notices his date squirming, even more than normal. There’s a certain air about the date that even has the witcher fidgety as his stomach fills with butterflies. He checked all his calendars; hell, he checked Jaskier’s too. There is nothing specific they’re celebrating tonight, so that must mean something else worth remembering is going to happen.
Not that he would admit he’s been thinking that.
Nor would he admit that his heart jumps in his chest every time Jaskier’s hand even seems to hover near his pocket.
Because witchers shouldn’t hope for special things. Yes, last time he drank with Eskel and Lambert he might’ve gone off about how nice it would be to settle down, but that’s not realistic for someone like him; he was lucky enough Jaskier became his friend, much less his boyfriend. He wouldn’t want to push it. So, when it comes time to pay and leave, Geralt isn’t surprised at all that nothing monumental happens. Nope. And he’s definitely not disappointed… not even a little.
Seems like he’s not the only one, though. As they exit the restaurant, Jaskier smiles, but his eyes betray a hint of disappointment, and his scent no longer reflects the excitement or nervousness it had before their date began. “You okay?” Geralt asks, reaching out to take Jaskier’s hand in his own.
“Yea, of course,” his boyfriend insists, shaking his head, but his eyes fall to the ground as they walk. He’s silent for a while, only the sound of their shoes clicking and the crunch of the gravel under their feet. When they approach the car, Jaskier chuckles quietly.
“What is it?” Geralt asks, tilting his head to the side as he watches Jaskier carefully. “Something wrong?”
“No, no,” Jaskier assures him, waving his hand as if he could shoo Geralt’s concern away. However, it doesn’t work. The witcher only stares at him more intently, and well, Jaskier never could say no to those golden eyes. He huffs in defeat “Fine, it’s silly, but I thought… I thought maybe you were going to propose tonight.”
Geralt looks at him with wide eyes, and Jaskier suddenly stammers to explain himself, “We were talking about moving in together- I just thought…” he looks down, mumbling “It’s a nice restaurant to go to out of the blue is all.”
Geralt’s eyebrows furrow “You made the reservation. I kinda thought… you were gonna propose…”
The air between them is tense as it fills with silence, neither knowing what to say. Until, finally, the chord snaps and both erupt into a fit of laughter. Jaskier’s cheeks turn pink with the exertion, and he has to wipe the moisture from his eyes as he steps closer to the witcher.
“Um,” Jaskier chuckles nervously again, shoving his hands into his pockets. Geralt watches in curiosity as he pulls out one of Geralt’s hairbands- he made a habit of keeping extras on him when they first started dating. However small, the extra consideration always made Geralt smile. “Fuck it,” Jaskier shrugs; he kneels with one knee on the ground, dirty parking lot gravel digging into his overpriced suit pants. He begins to giggle again as he holds up the black hairband toward Geralt, but the witcher finds his throat constricting for an entirely different reason. Jaskier’s laughter falls away when he finally looks up at Geralt. Tears from laughter are gathered up in his blue eyes, and the witcher can hear the little gust of breath that escapes him as the two lock eyes, draped in moonlight and the warm glow of streetlights. Geralt thinks he’s never seen anything so beautiful as this man he loves.
“Geralt Rivia, will you make me the happiest person in the world and marry me?” Jaskier breathes, no more laughter, no more giggles.
Yet, Geralt finds it hard to believe. Afterall, its unexpected and impromptu. He can’t help but wonder if Jaskier will come to regret making such a hasty decision- a decision to spend his life with Geralt. He shifts on his feet where he stands, gravel crunching under his boots
“Do you want to marry me?” he asks quietly, almost afraid to give Jaskier the option.
“I’m asking you.”
“But, do you?”
“Since I first saw you in Pasoda,” Jaskier grins. His voice doesn’t waver; there are no doubts or lies in his statement.
Geralt nods, offering his boyfriend a meek smile around the lump in his throat. He doesn’t trust his voice not to fail him, so he tries to show Jaskier his answer instead. The lapel of his suit is the perfect handle as Geralt grabs him, pulling Jaskier to his feet. He’s hardly stable before the witcher is kissing him fervently. Jaskier is just as zealous in returning the kiss, arms wrapping tightly around his witcher’s neck. Geralt presses their foreheads together, only separating as much as is necessary to speak, “Yes, I’ll marry you.”
When they kiss again, Geralt can feel Jaskier’s smile.
“Give me your hand,” the bard says, trying to pry it off of his suit where Geralt has been holding him in an iron grip. He offers it with a tilt of his head, watching the mischievous glint in Jaskier’s eyes. His fiancé giggles to himself as he wraps the hair tie around Geralt’s ring finger.
When he’s done, Geralt can’t help but snort. “I guess we’ll have to go ring shopping.”
“I guess so.” Jaskier says, his smile never diminishing. “Mr. Geralt Pancratz.”
Geralt scoffs. “Not happening. Nice try, Mr. Julien Rivia.”
“Huh… that’s not so bad. I could be convinced.”
“Is that so?” Geralt grins wolfishly, leaning into Jaskier’s space, “I should probably start working on that sooner than later. Is your place closer or mine?”
“Definitely mine. Then again, exit 253 has that abandoned gas station parking lot.”
“Classy,” Geralt snorts.
Jaskier runs around to get in the car, but then, he suddenly stops as he’s reaching for the handle.
“Hey, Geralt?”
“Hm.”
“What do you mean I made the reservation? I got an email that said you did.”
They stare at each other for a while both wrack their brains for explanations until finally, that drunken night with Eskel and Lambert come back to him-
“Those bastards are never going to shut up about this,” Geralt hisses. Though, he finds himself smiling- of course, those idiots would try to set them up like this, and of course Geralt and Jaskier fell right for it. Well, he will have to thank his brothers later. For now, he has more important things to do.