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Dandelion chuckled to himself as he stood on his tiptoes to pin the sprig of mistletoe over the dining area door. The rest of the witchers were inside already waiting for Vesemir to finish up in the kitchen, all except Geralt. Geralt had decided to check up on Roach in the stables, making it the perfect time for Dandelion to trap the witcher with a little winter tradition.
Of course it wasn’t really a trap. If Geralt really wanted he could throw Dandelion aside like a rag doll but Dandelion had a good feeling about this and he was praying to all the gods that he hadn’t misread the situation. He absolutely adored Geralt and he was more than happy to be the witcher’s best friend but there was just something in his smile that gave him hope. He’d never seen Geralt smile that fondly or frequently at anyone else. It made Dandelion’s heart dance in his chest and he felt like he had wings. He never felt so inspired as he did when he was by Geralt’s side.
His hat almost fell off his head as he stuck his tongue out, trying not to jab himself with the pin, but he finally managed to secure the mistletoe on the old dark wooden beam. He bounced back onto the soles of his feet and put his hands on his hips as he smiled smugly at the mistletoe.
“Perfect!”
“It’ll never work,” Lambert grumbled from the table where he was nursing a tankard of white gull, nasty stuff that Dandelion vowed never to touch again after one terrible terrible night where he’d ended up vomiting in his own hat.
And he’d really loved that hat.
He scoffed and twirled a lock of his hair in his fingers. “It will work, I’m sure of it!”
“Geralt won’t kiss you,” Lambert insisted. “If I’m right you have to eat your hat.”
Dandelion gasped and grabbed his hat. He was not going to lose a second hat to Lambert’s harebrained schemes, but then again, he was so certain that Geralt felt the same way as he did. He knew his friend. He knew what Geralt was like when he loved someone.
But what if he was wrong?
He whined and pouted at Lambert. “Oh fine, I will take your bet!” Lambert smirked. The bastard had known Dandelion would agree. He always had been a sucker for a good bet. There was a thrill in it that he couldn’t resist. “But if I win…” he tapped his nose with his finger as he thought. “If I win then I get to write a poem about you and you are not allowed to complain about it!”
“I won’t complain because I won’t lose.”
Dandelion rolled his eyes and stuck his tongue out at the witcher. The debate was cut short by Geralt coming through the heavy front doors of the keep. Dandelion clenched his fists and bounced on his feet, trying desperately not to lose his nerve. Surely Geralt wouldn’t notice if he just went to sit down with the others. He swallowed and licked his lips as Geralt approached.
The witcher raised an eyebrow at him and crossed his arms in front of his chest. “What’s wrong, Dandelion? You’re acting like you’ve sat on an ant’s nest.”
Dandelion forced a laugh, his face warming up in a blush. “No no, nothing’s wrong, my dear. I just wanted to wait for you. It didn’t feel right starting dinner without you,” he lied.
“Well, I’m here now. Let’s eat.”
Dandelion side-stepped blocking Geralt’s path to the table. Geralt scowled and tried to move past him but Dandelion blocked his way once more.
Geralt sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “What are you doing, poet?”
Dandelion winked at his best friend, ignoring the way his stomach was twisting and flipping with nerves. He wrapped a golden lock of hair around his finger and gave Geralt his most charming, and hopefully seductive, smile. “Just… waiting.”
“You’re in the way.”
Dandelion gasped and put his hand on his chest. “How dare you suggest such a thing, witcher? You could always move me out of the way?”
Geralt huffed but moved closer to him and Dandelion’s heart sped up in his chest. This was it. He gripped onto Geralt’s arms and then glanced upwards.
“Oops? Mistletoe,” He bit his lip and gazed at Geralt with wide eyes, which would have worked much better if Geralt had been taller than him but beggars couldn’t be choosers.
Geralt hummed as he noticed the sprig that was now directly above the pair of them, then sighed. “Mistletoe. I wonder how that got there.”
“Perhaps Kaer Morhen has a pixie problem?” Dandelion suggested. His heart was pounding and he was feeling all sorts of dizzy all of a sudden.
Geralt hadn’t immediately said no. He hadn’t shoved him aside and laughed the whole thing off as Dandelion just playing a prank on him. In fact, Geralt had moved closer if anything. His hand reached up to brush a strand of Dandelion’s hair from out of his eyes. Dandelion’s mouth felt dry and he chewed on his bottom lip. It was Geralt’s move and if he didn’t kiss him soon then Dandelion was sure he would pass out.
This had been a disastrous idea. Why hadn’t anyone stopped him? Oh gods, he was such a fool and…
and Geralt was kissing him.
On all the gods… Geralt was kissing him!
He couldn’t help the bubble of laughter that escaped his lips as he threw his arms around Geralt’s neck. Geralt’s arm wrapped around his waist and pulled him closer. Oh how wonderful it felt to be finally in the arms of his White Wolf. Geralt’s thumb stroke his cheek and their noses rubbed together as Geralt pulled away from his lips. Dandelion whined and pouted at the witcher.
“I wasn’t done, Geralt!”
Geralt just chuckled and shook his head at Dandelion. “Well let’s hope the pixies hung up more mistletoe around the place then.”
Dandelion blushed and grinned sheepishly. “Ah well, yes. I am sure they’ve been very busy.”
Geralt rolled his eyes and placed a second chaste kiss on Dandelion’s lips. “I look forward to it.”
“Oh gods, me too,” he sighed wistfully as Geralt brushed past him to sit with the others who were all gaping at them with dropped jaws. He winked at Lambert and danced over to sit beside Geralt, his witcher.