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Jaskier’s heart flutters when Geralt’s hand reaches his. Oh shit, Geralt has not only grabbed but is holding his hand. It is warm and dry and Jaskier can’t bring himself to look up.
When did he get this shy?
Geralt leads him down a street, smiling at him when Jaskier finally dares look up.
“It’s just down this way.” Geralt tells him. “But I’m paying this time. Don’t think I forgot.”
If Geralt taking his hand gave him butterflies, it is nothing compared to what sparks in him when Geralt says that.
You see, Jaskier just made an important discovery. Connecting the dots, the coin fell down, suddenly, a thought struck him.
Geralt had said “It’s a date”, and Jaskier hadn’t taken him seriously. Well, now he is starting to think that he should have. Because it would seem that Geralt did.
And Jaskier just figured it out.
The way Geralt smiles at him, ugh, Jaskier can’t take it. It is crooked and bright, and just for him. How very dare he.
Jaskier returns the smile and Geralt tightens the grip around his hand. Fuck.
The restaurant is small. Not much more than a hole in the wall, and Jaskier and Geralt sit so close that their thighs are pressed together. Nothing unusual in that, hell, they sit even closer while watching Netflix on Geralt’s couch. More often than not Jaskier is either curled against Geralt’s chest, or has Geralt’s head in his lap, making small little braids in the long white strands.
His heart would make kickflips back then, and he would ache with longing for someone who is right there. Now, it’s the same kickflips, but worse, so much worse. Or better. Maybe better.
“I was thinking we might go see that new movie soon. Dune?”
Jaskier gets startled out of his internal crisis, realizing he has been staring.
“Wait. Dune came out in 1980-something. Are they doing a rerun?”
“Where have you been?” Geralt smirks and bumps his shoulder to Jaskier, and Jaskier nearly drops his sandwich. “The remake? I hope they are not keeping the ASMR. That freaked me out.”
“Geralt. You absolute nerd. I have no idea what you are talking about.”
He does.
It is just too much fun to tease him.
Very much as expected, Geralt looks offended, tucks some hair behind his ear, and starts his rant. Geralt always tucks his hair behind his ear when he is about to rant, and Jaskier adores it.
“How can you not have seen it?! Jaskier, we have spent months together! I can’t believe I’m dating a man who doesn’t know what Dune is.”
Fuck.
Fuck, shit, oh beans, oh potatoe chips, oh six thousand ballerinas and one tiny pony.
Jaskier can feel himself blush profusely, all the way out to his ears. His muscles do that tensing thing, he is almost vibrating with it.
Said out loud, Jaskier is almost melting in his chair.
“Geralt?”
“Yes, oh beloved disappointment?”
Not even the insult can make Jaskier stop feeling like this.
How can he say anything? How do you even begin to bring that up? Like, ‘Hi, I am so incredibly in love with you I don’t even know my own name. It seems you like me too. When was our first date?’
Just thinking about it makes his hands go sweaty.
He pulls in a deep breath.
“Can we watch the one from ’84 tonight?” He asks. Coward, he thinks. Jaskier, you absolute fucking coward.
Geralt just squints at him, mouthful of sandwich. He is such a dork.
“Swallow before you talk.” Jaskier says, and Geralt waggles his eyebrows at him. Gods.
“Yeah sure. I’ll be home by seven.” Geralt says.
“It’s a date.”