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Light filtered through the trees, warming Jaskier’s face with its glow, and he sighed, turning his face to nuzzle against the lacy chemise beneath his head. The day had been a lazy one, well, the week had been a lazy week if he were totally honest. It was strange, after years of travelling with his Geralt, a mess of monster guts and emotional turmoil, to have peace like this, and all it had taken was a drunken night and a strange looking portal in his chambers. He’d woken up with a splitting headache in the middle of a vineyard, two oddly familiar men staring down at him. Dandelion and new Geralt were incredibly hospitable, letting Jaskier stay with them whilst he tried to find a way back home, but the more he learnt about this new dimension, so very close to his own and yet almost entirely different, the more he wanted to stay. Here, Geralt was kind to him, warm and loving in a way that Jaskier couldn’t comprehend.
And then there was Dandelion.
A bard, another version of himself but with a different name, different songs, different memories, and well.. Jaskier had been intrigued; intrigued enough to fall into bed with his counterpart far too easily.
Perhaps that was to be expected. Jaskier was certain that his Geralt wouldn’t have been surprised, but his Geralt no longer mattered, not when he had these two new and delightful men in his life. It wasn’t as if he was replacing his Geralt with a new and improved version… except he sort of was.
And well… who could blame him? New Geralt was impossibly hotter than the original, with the scruffy beard, the undercut and the sarcastic wit that had Jaskier gasping for breath as he tried to contain his laughter.
Yes, he was quite happy at Corvo Bianco.
Which was perhaps why this week the hunt for a way back home had sort of maybe been forgotten, just a tad. He just- he’d forgotten what it was like to be happy, truly happy, without pining or yearning or wishing for something that he knew he couldn’t have. It was truly a weight off his shoulders that he hadn’t even realised was wearing him down.
He sighed dramatically and kissed the exposed skin between the unlaced collar of Dandelion’s chemise, then rested his head back down on the bard’s chest. Every beat of Dandelion’s heart reminded Jaskier that this was real, that it wasn’t some bizarre dream, and with every beat a new melody began to form in his mind. Dandelion’s heartbeat became the percussion to a whole new ballad that was dancing in front of his eyelids, the notes and lyrics swirling in colourful patterns as he tried to piece the shapes together. The rhymes fell off his tongue, trying to find words that fit the rhythm of his sparkling new melody. It would be easier with his lute in hand, but he still tapped out the fingerings on Dandelion’s stomach until long fingers caught his to still them.
“Jaskier,” Dandelion cooed in his strange accent, so very different to Jaskier’s. “You’re being awfully distracting, love.”
Jaskier snorted and pouted up at his companion. Dandelion was still resting on the grass, using his colourful hat as a pillow, his blue eyes shut, closed off from the world. He was uncharacteristically still. “You- you’re not doing anything!”
“I’m trying to nap.”
With a scoff, Jaskier sat up just enough that he could reach Dandelion’s jaw with his lips, and pressed a kiss to the stubbled skin there. “And how’s that going, darling?”
Dandelion’s eye cracked open and he smirked. “Terribly.”
“Hmm,” Jaskier agreed, a bad habit he’d picked up from Geralt. “Well then, maybe I should distract you some more until Geralt gets home.”
He pressed another kiss to Dandelion’s neck, his collarbone, running hands up his chemise, until Dandelion let out a soft groan, and Jaskier knew he had won. All dreams of sleep, quite forgotten.