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Geralt had intended to sharpen his swords. He’d come back to their room after a fairly easy hunt to find Jaskier mid-composition. He’d rolled his eyes and got to work on his swords. There was no interrupting Jaskier when he got like this. Eventually Geralt would have to drag his arse downstairs for some food but it would be alright for a while. Geralt could use the quiet time, a rare occurrence with Jaskier by his side, but after the hunt his senses were too heightened, too sensitive. Every beat of Jaskier’s heart sounded like a giant’s footsteps.
It had been so loud that he’d been able to pick out the bard’s heartbeat from outside the inn; a familiar flutter, the soundtrack to his life for the past decade. A warm and comforting sound. Geralt’s strikes along his blade kept to the rhythm of Jaskier’s heart. He wondered if the bard even realised. He probably didn’t, too lost in whatever rhymes and words he was trying to scribble on the page. Geralt shook his head with a fond smile as he looked up at the bard.
And that had been his undoing.
Jaskier kept muttering under his breath, hands tugging at his hair as he counted beats, on his fingers, but when he fell silent his tongue flicked out between his lips, licking slowly without Jaskier even realising it.
Geralt swallowed.
Jaskier just hummed and tapped the quill against his cheek before biting down gently on his fingers. Geralt couldn’t look away. He stared, unable to move. His own heartbeat suddenly raced as fast as a human’s as his gaze traced the slow movement of Jaskier’s tongue along his top lip. It wasn’t meant to be seductive. Jaskier was merely concentrating, a subconscious habit that the bard probably didn’t even realise he had, but Geralt was stunned, his carefully constructed walls beginning to crack. He knew, objectively that Jaskier was attractive but he’d never noticed his attraction to his best friend before.
It was a beauty that had just annoyed and inconvenienced him when he was forced to save the bard from angered spouses, although now he really thought about it, that bitter resentment for having to constantly save Jaskier could easily have been the beginnings of Jealousy.
He must have made a sound as Jaskier’s eyes refocussed as he blinked and looked up from the paper.
“Ah, Geralt, you’re back!” he cried happily, wiping his forehead with his sleeve, smudging dark inks stains across his cheek without realising.
Geralt was suddenly hit with the urge to run his thumb along Jaskier’s cheek and wipe the stain away.
Fuck.
Jaskier’s smile was lighting up the room, brighter than any sun, his lips still damp and shining from where his tongue had touched. Geralt heart fluttered in his chest, running faster than any witcher’s heart should. There was a prickle of heat at the back of his neck and he couldn’t look away from his friend.
Jaskier’s smile morphed into confused look at Geralt’s unusual demeanour, and then his eyes widened slightly before a coy smile appeared. Each expression was beautiful in its own way, each one so very Jaskier.
Gods he was utterly fucked.
It was like the dam had broken and everything he’d been hiding, even from himself, was flooding out.
“Geralt?” Jaskier asked in a low voice, tongue tracing his bottom lip as he stepped closer. Too close and yet unbearable far away. The air had been sucked from the room and Geralt couldn’t breathe. It was more torturous than any curse.
“Hmm,” he responded, not trusting his own voice.
Jaskier reached up to cup his cheek and Geralt’s skin felt like it was burning under Jaskier’s touch. He leaned into the heat and closed his eyes, a contented purr rumbling in his chest. Jaskier laughed, a laugh that rivalled the most beautiful of melodies. “Darling, forgive me if I’m reading this wrong, but can I kiss you?”
Geralt swallowed and his eyes fluttered open, needing to see Jaskier, needing to see the gorgeous blue eyes that he knew were looking at him through thick eyelashes. He smiled faintly, unable to resist the adoration in Jaskier’s gaze. “Yes,” he breathed as quietly as possible, barely a whisper, not wanting to break whatever this magic was that was sparking between them.
Jaskier’s expression softened and Geralt knew he was in love with his best friend. Nothing else would explain the way he felt like melting into Jaskier’s embrace and never leaving. Jaskier’s other hand came up to hold Geralt’s other cheek, filling him with a warm glow that he’d never felt before. He was a goner before their lips even met, but that first touch felt like lightning scorching through his soul. He knew it that moment he would love Jaskier for the rest of his life whether he was killed tomorrow or lived long enough to retire to the keep in the mountains.
He gripped at Jaskier’s hips, fingers digging into the soft fabric of the bard’s shirt. The kiss was over all too soon but they didn’t part, Jaskier pressing his forehead against Geralt’s as they breathed together. Jaskier’s heart was racing, the sound the most beautiful that Geralt had ever heard.
“I love you, Jask,” he murmured, his words surprising him. He was sure that out of the two of them Jaskier would be the first to admit he was in love but they had fallen from Geralt’s lips like a prayer.
Jaskier laughed breathlessly “Tell me I’m not dreaming, darling, tell me this is real… fuck, Gods Geralt, I love you too, more than anything.”
Geralt captured Jaskier’s lips in another kiss to answer him. He couldn’t promise the bard that it was real but it truly did feel like a dream, but one they were hopefully living through together.