Work Text:
“Oh—tell Essi I hope she feels better soon.”
Geralt leaned against the door frame, watching Jaskier hold his phone to his ear with one hand, the other dangling one of the three shirts he’d been considering wearing that night. He knew what happened even before Jaskier turned around and fixed him with a put-out expression.
“No, no—it’s not her fault she’s too tired—put the phone to her ear for me,” he spoke, sitting down heavily on the edge of the cluttered bed. “Essi—I won’t hear any further self-slander from you, get your ass in bed and stay there or I’ll sic Pris on you.”
He paused before letting out a short laugh. “Exactly. Now you two get some rest. Mwah.”
He pulled the phone from his ear and let his hand fall to his thigh heavily, his good cheer fading as the call ended.
“Cancelled?” Geralt asked from his perch by the door, though he already knew the answer.
“Yeah, apparently Essi had to stay late at work and is just about ready to pass out,” Jaskier sighed, flopping back on the bed with his phone thrown onto the pillow.
“Hmm.”
“Don’t sound so disappointed,” Jaskier chastised lightly, turning his head to face Geralt. “I know you were absolutely jumping at the bit to spend a night clubbing with your boyfriend and his dear friends.”
“Isn’t it champing at the bit?” Geralt teased, standing straight from his post at the door and making his way to sit beside Jaskier on the bed.
“Okay, whatever horse girl,” Jaskier pouted. “What are we gonna do now? It’s only 6.”
“We could follow Essi and Priscilla’s lead, call it a night,” Geralt suggested easily, leaning back on his arms.
“Geralt,” Jaskier groaned admonishingly. “You may be ancient but I’m only twenty-four. There’s no way in hell I’m going to bed before midnight on a Friday.”
“Watch it, I’m only six years older than you,” he grumbled, pushing Jaskier’s phone securely away from the edge of the bed where it had been precariously thrown.
“Semantics.” He flapped his hand in the air before letting it flop onto his stomach. “Seriously though. What do you want to do tonight now that getting mildly drunk in public is off the table?”
Geralt scoffed at “mildly”—Jaskier did nothing in halves—but he let his hand slide further onto the bed until his back met the comforter, laying down to mimic Jaskier’s pose and meet his expectant gaze.
“Nothing.”
The exasperated groan Jaskier let out was far more dramatic than necessary in Geralt’s opinion.
“Geralt, you’re the light of my life, but you gotta work with me. We could go out to that pub down by the theatre, or we could see if a movie’s playing, or we could call up Eskel and Lambert, see what they’re doing—”
“I don’t want to do anything.”
Jaskier’s mouth gaped for a moment before he looked heavenward.
“Geralt—”
“I mean I don’t care.” He winced even before it was out of his mouth and Jaskier readied for a rant.
“I mean—I just want to be with you,” he finished weakly.
Jaskier peered at him for a moment, gaze going soft.
“It’s not fair that you say such sweet things to me when I’m trying to be cross,” he sighed, reaching out absently to tangle his fingers with Geralt’s.
“So a night in, I guess? Ooh, maybe we can order in from that vegan place Triss took us to or— what if we watched The Notebook? Ooh, what about a movie marathon? We can watch all those cheesy romance movies, you know the ones, like—what’s the one, with that Hemsworth guy—”
“Thor?” Geralt suggested.
“No the other Hemsworth— wait, Thor? Do you consider Thor a romance? Don’t answer that,” Jaskier fixed him with a look.
“Let’s start with ordering dinner,” Geralt gently interrupted before Jaskier could go on a whole other tangent. He squeezed Jaskier’s hand once more before releasing it and sitting up on the bed. “I’ll order it, let me get my phone.”
“Okay,” Jaskier hummed. “I guess I’ll get changed since I no longer have anyone to look hot for.”
“Oh, I’m not anyone anymore?” he raised a brow as he rose to his feet.
“Of course you’re not just anyone, my beloved boyfriend who I love so much?” he fluttered his lashes. “Besides, you think I’m gorgeous no matter what I wear,” he joked.
“I do.” Geralt didn’t even bother to try to mask the fond look that came over his face.
He was too obvious, he’d always been. It’s a wonder it took them so long to finally get together with how flayed open Geralt always felt around Jaskier. There was no hiding—not with him. And now he didn’t even need to try to.
Jaskier’s cheeky smile turned into something soft and seeing as he looked up at Geralt from the bed.
“Still doesn’t change the fact that you’re a brat,” Geralt teased, severing the moment.
“Excuse me—”
“Get changed,” Geralt chuckled, leaving the room to fetch his phone. He found it on the kitchen counter, ready near his wallet and keys that he’d no longer need.
“Do you want the same thing you got last time?” Geralt asked, moving back to the bedroom.
“Mmm yeah, do you remember?” Jaskier replied from somewhere within an oversized sweater Geralt’s pretty sure is his.
“Mhmm,” Geralt hummed, tapping it into the order on his phone. He stopped at the clean laundry basket absently as he walked towards the closet, picking up a pair of thick fleece socks.
“Can I borrow some—” Geralt tossed them at Jaskier before he could even finish his sentence. “Thanks, dear heart.”
Geralt finished the order and dropped the phone on the bed, moving to the closet to change his clothes too. Their motions were smooth, so much practice moving around each other, first as friends then as lovers. They spent most nights together, at one or the other’s place.
“How long until the food gets here?” Jaskier asked absently, picking up his own phone and checking his notifications.
“Thirty minutes,” Geralt replied, leaving the bedroom. His apartment wasn’t fancy nor particularly spacious, but it was private and that was good enough for Geralt. He detoured to the kitchen to grab them a couple of coolers before heading to the living room. Jaskier was already there, sprawled on the couch and scrolling through Netflix on Geralt’s laptop hooked up to the TV. Geralt placed the cans on the table before shifting Jaskier’s feet off the couch so he could sit too. Jaskier didn’t even look at him before immediately moving his feet back up to rest on Geralt’s thighs.
“Spoiled,” Geralt huffed without heat, resting his hands on Jaskier’s socked feet.
“And whose fault is that?” Jaskier retorted lightly, and that Geralt couldn’t argue with.
“What should we watch? Something cheesy? Ooh, what about The Last Song? Or Mamma Mia?”
“Whatever you want,” Geralt conceded, knowing that his choice of rewatching Game of Thrones would be met with a fond eye roll.
Geralt’s pleasantly surprised when he sees Jaskier choose Howl’s Moving Castle and place the laptop on the table before shifting to cuddle close to Geralt’s side.
“Now I know you’ll like the vibes and I’ll enjoy watching Howl,” Jaskier sighed dreamily.
“Don’t enjoy it too much,” Geralt huffed teasingly.
“Oh of course he couldn’t hold a candle to you, dear heart,” Jaskier said dramatically, before reaching his neck up to press their lips together. The kiss started chaste and warm before Jaskier playfully teased his tongue out to deepen it. Geralt responded in kind, bringing his hand up to cup the back of Jaskier’s neck and tilt him for a better angle. Jaskier was just about to crawl into Geralt’s lap when the ding of Geralt’s phone made him pull away.
“What,” Jaskier whined.
“That would be our food arriving,” Geralt replied, reaching over to grab his phone and pulling reluctantly away from Jaskier.
“Fine,” he replied, mock put-out. “I guess that’s a reasonable interruption.”
Geralt shook his head fondly at him before moving towards the door to meet the delivery person at the ground level. “I’ll be back.”
Jaskier hummed and smiled, before reaching out for one of the coolers Geralt brought and turning back to the movie playing softly.
When Geralt returned a few moments later, Jaskier had brought out some cutlery and napkins for their food on the coffee table.
“Mmm, I’m so hungry,” Jaskier hummed happily, immediately pulling out food boxes as Geralt placed the bag down.
Jaskier sat up as they ate side by side on the couch, but as soon as their plates were empty he reassumed his place tucked against Geralt’s side as they absently watched the movie.
“I can’t believe I cry every time,” Jaskier sniffled as they neared the end.
“I can’t either,” Geralt mumbled playfully, grinning a little as Jaskier jabbed his elbow into his ribs.
“Okay mister too-tough-to-cry, if we were watching, I don’t know, fucking Marley and Me, you’d change your tune real quick,” Jaskier retorted. Geralt only grumbled and Jaskier laughed.
Watching Jaskier though as he pressed closer to his side, wet eyes still set on the TV as he smiled, Geralt could maybe understand why sometimes love made you cry in a good way.
The movie finished quietly, but neither he nor Jaskier were eager to get up to turn the credits off and displace the warmth between them.
“I’m sorry you didn’t get the night out you wanted,” Geralt murmured after a few moments of warm silence.
Jaskier hummed and a few more moments rested between them companionably.
“Something better came out of it,” he finally said, rubbing a warm hand on Geralt’s chest.
He snorted. “A boring night in with a boring old man?”
Jaskier huffed a short laugh before lifting his head up to see Geralt’s face.
“No. A night of just being with my favourite person.”
An easy and warm hum went through Geralt.
It’s always been like that with Jaskier—nothing to prove. Geralt doesn’t have to earn Jaskier’s attention or his affection, doesn’t have to worry that he’s boring him. Because to Jaskier, just Geralt is enough. The realization washes through him, a gentle wave of knowing, and Geralt can’t help the way his arms tighten around Jaskier’s waist, or the single word that overwhelms his mouth.
“Stay.”
“I was planning on it, dear heart,” Jaskier laughed lightly. “No way I’m walking home this late.”
“No,” he tried again, more sure now. “Stay here, with me. Move in with me.”
The words still don’t come out right, but Jaskier doesn’t seem to mind.
“Are you— are you sure?” Jaskier asked, sitting up fully on Geralt’s chest now. His voice was light, but Geralt saw how carefully he was holding his face.
“I want to keep you,” Geralt whispered, and it feels helpless. Like there is nothing else he could ever say but this, even as it leaves him open, leaves Jaskier to see all that Geralt has ever wanted and gives him the power to take it all away.
Jaskier kissed him then, a near desperate press of lips, as if he needed to know that they’re both still here.
“I want to stay,” he whispered when they finally parted for air, breathed into Geralt’s mouth. And Geralt sees Jaskier crack open his chest too, enough for the shape of them to live there.
All he can do is kiss him again.
They’ll spend the rest of the night there, breathing each other in and letting the buzz of Netflix lull in the background as the night stretches around them.
Eventually, Jaskier’s head will begin to grow heavier on Geralt’s chest and he’ll rouse him gently to lead them to Geralt’s bed. Geralt will peel Jaskier’s socks off and Jaskier will rearrange the pillows the way Geralt likes and they’ll find each other in the middle, become a mix of limbs under the sheets.
But for now, they’re content to let the night pass around them, together, doing nothing.
Neither would have it any other way.