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Jaskier was lounging on the sofa with his head in Geralt’s lap when Ciri came flying through the door. Jaskier glanced up from the magazine he was flicking through and frowned. Ciri’s eyeliner was smeared across her face and her eyes were red and puffy. Geralt must have noticed at the exact same time as he stood up without warning and Jaskier fell to the floor with a yelp.
“Ciri?” Geralt pulled their daughter into a hug, wrapping her up in those strong arms of his. Jaskier knew from experience that nothing felt safer than Geralt’s embrace.
“Hey Dad.”
Jaskier scrambled to his feet and flung his arms around the pair of them. His husband and their daughter, his family. If he was drunk and really pressed to admit it then he would also include Yennefer within their little bubble. She was a mother to Ciri just as much as Jaskier and Geralt were her fathers. Ciri’s own family had died when she was younger leaving her to live with her godfather, Geralt. Now, at the age, of sixteen their daughter was growing up and Jaskier was really starting to feel old.
“Jaskier.” Geralt growled as Jaskier buried his face into the nape of Geralt’s neck.
“Family hug, Geralt!” He insisted and jabbed Geralt between the ribs. “Don’t be a spoilsport darling.”
Geralt hummed but didn’t complain anymore. It was Ciri that broke the hug. She wriggled out of Geralt’s arms and slid towards the sofa but Jaskier caught her wrist. “Hey, cub, you wanna talk about it?” He asked with a tilt of his head.
She sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose, a terrible habit that she’d picked up from Geralt. “Just some arsehole at school.”
Jaskier chuckled softly. God he didn’t miss being a teenager in the slightest. School was hard on the best of days. He stuck his tongue between his teeth as he tried to remember the names of Ciri’s classmates. “Kayleigh?” He guessed and she nodded.
“He tried to kiss me.” She wrinkled her nose. “And then when I said I didn’t want that, Mistle said it was because I like girls instead and then she tried to kiss me.”
Ciri looked absolutely horrified by the whole idea and Jaskier sighed, glancing up at Geralt. His husband had a face like thunder. They’d known they would probably have to have this discussion with Ciri soon but he’d hoped it would be under happier circumstances. Jaskier squeezed Ciri’s hand and let her towards the sofa. He patted Geralt’s cheek on the way past.
“It’s ok, dear heart.” He murmured to Geralt as quietly as he could. “Come sit with us Ciri.”
“Papa.” Ciri groaned. “We don’t need to talk about it.”
“Yes. We do.” Jaskier insisted firmly. “It’s important, cub.”
“Hmm.” Ciri narrowed her eyes at him.
Jaskier huffed. “You know I’m fluent in both yours and Geralt’s humming, Ciri!”
“Hmm.”
“Now, you’re just being obnoxious.” He rolled his eyes as Geralt sat down on the other side of Ciri.
“Ciri?” Geralt grunted in his usual manner. “It’s alright if you don’t want to kiss them. They shouldn’t be forcing that on you.”
“Dad!” Ciri whined and buried her head in her hands.
Jaskier glanced up and Geralt, tilting his head in an unspoken question. Geralt’s jaw clenched but he nodded. “Ciri, darling?”
“What?”
“Kissing, sex—”
“Gross.” She interrupted him.
Geralt laughed. “Agreed.”
“What?!” Ciri shrieked. “But… but you’re married?”
Jaskier sighed and took her hand in his. “Yes, and happily so. How many years now, love?”
“Eighteen in April.” Geralt answered without missing a beat. “You wanted a spring wedding.”
Jaskier laughed. “And you wanted a winter one but I convinced you in the end.”
Geralt hummed. Ciri was still scowling between the pair of them. “Sex can’t be gross if you’re married?”
Geralt snorted. “Guess I didn’t get the memo.”
“But you…” She cut herself off with a huff and pinched the bridge of her nose. “Is that why you never kiss in front of me?”
Geralt nodded. “Don’t kiss at all.”
“And definitely no sex.” Jaskier added. “And we’re happily married idiots in love, sweetheart. So no matter what they say at school. If you don’t want to kiss anyone or if you never fall in love or even if it just takes you a little longer to feel those things. It’s ok, ok?”
Ciri groaned. “Yeah. Whatever. Fine. Can I go now?” She grumbled, her face was as red as a tomato and Jaskier laughed.
“Geralt?” He asked his husband with a wink.
“Hmm. If they bother you again, you’ll tell us.” Geralt ruffled Ciri’s hair.
She pouted and nodded. “If I don’t punch them first.”
“Ciri!” Geralt groaned.
Jaskier cackled and fell back into Geralt’s lap as Ciri jumped up from the sofa. He beamed up at Geralt and reached up to twirl a strand of long silver hair between his fingers. “You really are beautiful, my dear.”
Geralt’s expression softened as he gazed back down at Jaskier with a fond smile, brushing Jaskier’s fringe from off his face. “I love you.”
“I love you too, dear heart.”