Work Text:
“This is getting boring. Darling, I can’t take it.” Jaskier huffs before promptly falling into Valdo’s lap with a sigh. “The four walls,” his hand nearly slaps Valdo’s face before one arm slings over his back, “they’re killing me, Valdo, I’m dying.” His dramatic lover throws his head back and closes his eyes with a sob.
“Are they? Can’t go out, you know that, Jas.” Jaskier sighs before tucking himself into Valdo’s lap.
“I’m aware,” he mumbles miserably. Valdo looks at the white walls of their new house, shining and polished. To be honest, it had driven him a little insane too.
“Let’s paint them.” Jaskier peers up at him from his miserable, dramatic lounge.
“Fine. Flower field?”
Valdo grins. “Flower field, let’s do it.” Jaskier knows how to paint one and one singular things: flowers. With thick gobs of paint that run down the canvas, oh he’s awful at it.
In the end, the weeping flowers, as Jaskier calls them, only highlight the holy glow of sun that Valdo has peering from over twin mountains.
They’re both paint-streaked and exhausted by the time they step back. It’s obvious who’s painted what and it only serves to make them love it more. The patch of trees that spill into the painting from the side wall are dark between the tall trunks— Valdo imagines glowing yellow eyes peering out from within in them, and Jaskier cheers him on as he paints it in.
His lover’s arm wraps around his waist as the look up at the color-filled wall.
“It needs something more,” Jaskier mutters. “A cottage, maybe. Lovers. Looks like a lonely land without lovers.” Valdo agrees, and they go back to sketching and painting. It fills their time and walls blissfully well. Besides, Valdo has never seen a more beautiful sight than his paint-splattered lover.