Work Text:
There’s a cacophony of sounds around him but he doesn’t fully process the noise. He only knows that he’s had tonsil removal surgery. His throat sure hurts like it. His head is heavy, his mind fuzzy, it’s all wrong. He wants it to stop.
His thoughts go directly to his mouth as he mumbles, “I need medicine.”
From the right, there comes a beautiful, mellifluous voice.
“They’re bringing you some,” it says.
Startled, Geralt looks to where the words came from and –
His breath hitches in his throat and his heart skips a beat; there, right at his bedside, sits a vision.
The man is not just a man. He must be an elf, or a fae, or some other inhuman being. His face is straight out of a fairytale, and his eyes are so wide and blue. He could be an angel, with those eyes, but his body – strong neck, broad shoulders, chest hair – invites Geralt to sin.
Why would someone like this be here, watching over him?
“Did the doctors send you?” he wonders. With mouth-to-brain filter absent, he adds, “You’re eye candy.”
The otherworldly creature laughs – which is such a gorgeous melody – but god, his smile. His smile is the Sun itself.
“Wow,” Geralt breathes out. “You’re the prettiest person I’ve ever seen.”
“Well, thank goodness Yenna isn’t here,” the guy replies, grinning. “You’d say that to her instead if she were.”
“Yenna?” Geralt echoes. The name feels familiar on his tongue for some reason. “Yenna... Yenn... Yen...”
“Yes, Yen,” the stunning stranger chimes in. “She’s visiting you with Ciri later.”
He’s somehow sure that he knows Ciri too. The next moment, he realises that Ciri and Yen are important. He feels it down to his very bones. Why? That escapes him, even though -
This train of thought is cut off by a snicker. Geralt looks at his bedside angel once more. The surreal man is holding... something, in one of his hands. It’s a really beautiful hand, as if an artist carved it from marble. The whole of him is like an artwork. He must be widely admired, with such compelling facial features and those eyes.
“Are you a model?”
“No,” the stranger denies.
That doesn’t make sense. Why wouldn’t he be? He’s so pretty. He’s pretty like a... like... somebody. He’s certainly someone. Geralt needs to get to know him.
“Who are you?” he asks. “What’s your name?”
“My name is Jaskier,” the man introduces himself. “I’m your husband.”
“You’re my husband?!” Geralt gasps in shock, not believing his ears.
“Yeah,” the model-but-not-a-model – Jaskier, yes, that name suits him – confirms.
“Holy fuck!” he exclaims, smiling, his chest fit to burst with joy.
Jaskier chuckles so beautifully again and Geralt closes his eyes, savouring the sound. Then, a wave of nausea hits him and he can’t really focus on anything. When it passes, Geralt turns his head back to the vision at his right. His husband. That’s so incredible. And serious. They could be parents, even.
“Do we have children?”
“Depending on how you look at it,” Jaskier explains, “We have between zero to two kids.”
Geralt frowns, dumbstruck. How do you have between zero to two children with someone? He’s quite sure that having children with someone doesn’t work like that. Having children starts with... kissing... and then... Wait.
“Have we kissed yet?” he asks.
Jaskier throws his head back, laughing with his whole body. Geralt’s breath is taken away again.
“We’ve kissed a lot, darling,” Jaskier answers.
“Is that what we call each other? Darling?”
“We call each other many names, dearest.”
Suddenly, there’re many thoughts at once running through his mind. Something about “Lead me, dearest”, sirens and sea. Yes, sea, he knows that too. He knows that he knows many things; he isn’t young. But since when has he got a husband?
“How long have we been married?”
“Three years,” Jaskier replies, smiling warmly.
“Fuck yeah, I hit the jackpot!” Geralt cries triumphantly.
Jaskier is his husband. He’s his. His to love, his to touch –
“Let me see your face,” Geralt says as he reaches out to cup Jaskier’s cheek. Turning his husband’s head to the side, he gushes, “Your profile is perfect!” Then, he loses the strength to touch Jaskier, but that’s all right. He has another idea. “Turn around.”
“No,” Jaskier objects with a delighted giggle.
Geralt pouts. He just wants to see if Jaskier’s ass is as perfect as the rest of him. Not that he doubts it. Wouldn’t hurt to check, is all. Checking up facts is good.
“We’re married!” he repeats with wonder and his husband nods. “Oh fuck.”
Jaskier only laughs again and tells him to settle down. Geralt, being a good husband to his surprise husband, listens. Still confused as to how he got so lucky but overjoyed at the fact nevertheless, he drifts off to sleep.
***
Later, as the anaesthesia starts wearing off, Geralt’s memory returns, dispersing his confusion. Slowly, all the pieces fall into place:
Jaskier is not a model, but a well-known singer, who Ciri was a fan of as a teenager.
Jaskier and Geralt got together after they pretended to be engaged and actually pulled it off. They have been together for six years now.
Geralt and Jaskier call each other a sailor and a siren. “Lead me, dearest, to the coast of tomorrow” is engraved on the inside of their wedding rings.
Technically, they don’t have children together. Geralt has Ciri with Yennefer. Jaskier is Dara’s guardian. Yet, Ciri and Dara are inseparable like siblings, and Jaskier and Geralt treat them as such.
Jaskier and Geralt also have a dog and a boat. Both are of the same name.
As a retired Royal Navy commander, Geralt finally has enough time to cherish his family. He often takes care of his nephew - Eskel and Essi’s son - Nao. He does that especially when Eskel is deployed, just like Eskel used to help him with Ciri. Lambert and Aiden help Essi too. So do Yennefer and Triss. And Jaskier and his sisters with their families. Plus Ciri and Dara. And Vesemir. Jaskier’s parents as well. Really, Nao, at two-and-a-half, might already be the most spoiled child in the world. Not that he minds. He loves the attention nearly as much as he loves Jaskier’s niece, Zofia. Zofia and Nao are so adorably taken with each other that no one can quite handle it.
All in all, Geralt’s life is just so good.
“I really did hit the jackpot,” he says after they return from the hospital.
“No, my heart,” Jaskier replies, “I did.”
Then, they kiss, and the anaesthesia incident is happily forgotten.
Or so it should have been.
The reality is this: at a family gathering a week later, it turns out that Jaskier recorded the whole thing. He shows the video to everyone. Geralt has never been simultaneously laughed at and called “precious” so much in his whole life. In fact, he never wants to hear the word “precious” spoken in his vicinity ever again.
More or less fleeing this predicament, Geralt takes Roach (the dog) and goes to hide on Roach (the boat) for solid three days. He wants to stay there longer, he tries to be mad, but then Jaskier appears with an apology song.
Geralt thinks to himself he’s a rather shitty sailor, unable to resist a siren’s call.