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The wolf witchers were confused by Geralt’s bard. Lambert and Eskel glared at the colourful bard from across the table trying to work him out. He was laughing at some weird shit Geralt had said. He gripped Geralt’s arm and then rest his head on Geralt’s shoulder. Lambert scowled and glanced at Eskel. They’d never seen anyone outside of Kaer Morhen touch a witcher so casually, let alone with the Butcher of Blaviken. Eskel shrugged. He obviously didn’t understand either.
“Right, my dears, I promised I would help Vesemir with his potion ingredients. I will see you later.” Jaskier stood up and kissed Geralt’s temple. Geralt hummed but carried on eating his breakfast.
Once the bard was safely out of earshot Lambert turned on Geralt. “What was that?”
Geralt looked up and raised an eyebrow at him.
“The kissing?!”
Geralt shrugged. “That’s just Jaskier.”
Lambert scoffed and crossed his arms in front of his chest. “If he tries that with me I’ll stab him.”
Geralt just laughed. “He’s quicker than he looks.”
They finished their breakfast in silence, Lambert still trying to process what he’d seen.
It happened again at dinner. Jaskier danced into the room and kissed Geralt’s cheek as if it were nothing more than a hug. Lambert was positive that by the end of winter they’d be making out at this rate. Not that he was judging, he just hadn’t realised his brother was into guys. That was cool.
Jaskier noticed his glare and laughed his musical laugh. “There’s no need to be jealous, Lambert!”
And with that Jaskier sauntered over and kissed Lambert’s forehead. His nose wrinkled up and he almost fell backwards off the bench. “Oi, get off!” He spluttered, feeling his cheeks heat up furiously.
Jaskier winked and plopped himself down in Geralt’s lap, despite the fact there was a perfectly good bench right there. “What the fuck?” He muttered.
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Lambert was sharpening his swords in his room when Eskel came bursting through his door without even trying to knock. Lambert cursed and dropped his sword. The hilt landed on his bare toes and he was pretty sure at least one of them broke.
“Fuck fuck fuck!” He jumped up and cradled his foot in his hands. “The fuck?”
“Jaskier kissed me?”
Lambert, who had settled cross-legged on the floor stared up at Eskel in horror. “No.”
“Yes!”
“Why?”
Eskel shook his head. “He said he was tired and going to bed… and then he just kissed me on the cheek on the way out.”
Lambert just watched the flames dance in his fireplace. He just didn’t understand? Why would anyone do that? And why wasn’t Jaskier afraid of them? Had Geralt used Axii on the bard? That must have done. He voiced his reasoning to Eskel who nodded sagely.
“Axii, that must be it,” he agreed.
Geralt and Lambert were getting ready to go out on the last big hunt before the snow fell. Eskel was staying behind to fix where the wall had crumbled over night and Vesemir was working with Jaskier on the Beastiaries in the library. The bard had the best handwriting out of all of them when he put his mind to it, otherwise it was illegible scrawl, though he did insist that was to stop other bards from stealing his work.
“I need to say goodbye to Jaskier,” Geralt grunted.
Lambert rolled his eyes. “It’s just a hunt, wolf.”
Geralt hummed. “I promised.
“Fine, fine. We’ll say goodbye to the bard. Just hurry up about it.”
He followed Geralt through the keep towards the library. Jaskier didn’t look up from his writing but gave a quick wave of his quill to acknowledge their presence. Geralt shook his head and actually smiled at the bard, much to Lambert’s disbelief.
“We’re going hunting, Jask,” He said, louder than he needed to.
“Hmm?”
“Jaskier?” Geralt repeated and the bard glanced up at him. “We’re going out hunting.”
Jaskier’s tongue flicked out to lick his lips and he nodded. “Right yes, of course. Stay safe, my dears.”
Geralt sighed and shook his head but moved to kiss Jaskier’s hair. “We won’t be long.”
“Anything you say, love,” Jaskier leaned up to kiss Geralt without really taking his eyes off the parchment in front of him.
To Lambert’s surprise, although really it should have stopped surprising him, Geralt returned the chaste kiss with a hum and then they were off on their hunt.
It kept happening throughout winter. Geralt insisted that he would never use Axii on the bard without his permission and that Jaskier was really just like that. Lambert wasn’t convinced. The worst thing was that Eskel had gotten caught up in it. Eskel now didn’t even blink when Jaskier kissed his hair or cheek or, on one occasion, his nose. Lambert had managed to avoid the overly amorous bard’s affections since the first week but that hadn’t stopped Jaskier from trying. More than once Jaskier had dropped down in his lap instead of Geralt’s and tried to fucking cuddle but Lambert had pushing him onto the floor.
He wasn’t really sure why anymore. In the privacy of his own mind he knew he would quite like the open affection that Jaskier gave to the other witchers, even Vesemir, but he was also fucking terrified that he would be the one to fuck it up, that Jaskier would kiss him once and realise it was all a big mistake. Then again it was the last chance he had. Geralt and Jaskier were packing up Roach and heading back down the mountain together. Jaskier was chattering excitably with Eskel and Lambert was sulking in the corner watching them.
“Jaskier!” Geralt called. “Time to go.”
Jaskier lit up and flashed the White Wolf a dazzling smile. Lambert scoffed. He didn’t know why Jaskier wasn’t scared like most humans but he was starting to realise he shouldn’t take it for granted. Jaskier kissed Eskel’s cheeks and danced over to Lambert.
Lambert took a deep breath and then opened his arms. Jaskier grinned and bundled in for a hug. Lambert hummed as he breathed in Jaskier warm scent, not a whiff of fear. “See you around, bard.” And before he could regret it he kissed Jaskier’s forehead.
Jaskier grinned and returned the gesture. “I hope we’ll run into each other at some point, but otherwise you’d better be here next year, witcher.”
“I will,” he promised and he would do his fucking best to stay alive. No more careless contracts for him. He’d made a promise. “I will.”