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"What if we kissed?" Jaskier asked one evening, out of the blue.
"What about it?" Geralt says, trying to focus on repacking his tool kit.
It is very hard when asked such an intriguing question.
"Friends kiss sometimes." Jaskier informs him, and had Geralt looked, he would have seemed entirely unbothered. But Geralt isn't looking. He is instead listening to the rapid beating of the poet's heart, and focusing very hard on not letting his heart race in turn.
"Good for them." Geralt says, moving a small wooden spoon around, just to seem busy. It isn't working.
"Would you kiss me?"
Fuck, of course he had to ask.
"Why? You want to?" is out of Geralt's mouth before he can stop it, and he could kick himself. But now he is looking at the bard again and, oh boy, he is blushing.
"I would." Jaskier says proudly, as if they were discussing if he would like to eat a pear. "You are a very kissable man, Geralt."
"Hmm." Geralt replies, because that is a proper response when you are Geralt, and he looks back down at his tool box again.
"You are!" Jaskier protests, as if Geralt had said anything useful at all. "Might I inform you I have on several occasions thought about kissing you!"
Oh Melitele, give him strength.
"That so?" Geralt manages, finally packing up the box and putting it away. When he looks up, Jaskier has stepped closer.
"Indeed. So what do you think?" Jaskier says happily, and Geralt can see that blush growing deeper.
Fuck.
"You want us to kiss?"
"I do." Jaskier says patiently.
"... Alright."
"Alright?" Jaskier's eyes widen in surprise, like he actually didn't expect Geralt to agree. It makes Geralt want to push.
"Alright. Kiss me."
"You.. you want me to kiss you?" Jaskier repeats, just a little breathless.
"I do." He says, and it is not enough, not near enough to convey just how much he wants that.
The bard takes a step closer, and another.
They stand close enough to touch, their bodies inches apart, Jaskier tilting his head up just a little to get the angle right.
Then his hands come up to grab Geralt's elbows, hands warm through Geralt's worn tunic. Their noses are almost touching, and Geralt looks down at him, sees Jaskier look back through thick eyelashes.
A quick smile, and then Jaskier leans in, capturing his lips in a quick kiss before he pulls back. His lips are dry, hot, and they look at each other for a heartbeat before Jaskier dives back in.
One kiss turns into two, into five, and then Geralt realizes he has his arms around Jaskier's waist, pulling them flush together, and Jaskier's arms have wrapped around Geralt's shoulders.
Jaskier's lips on his, gods everywhere, he feels drunk from it.
Kiss after kiss, until they are out of breath, until Geralt can't contain his smile between kisses, until Jaskier chuckles into his mouth.
When they pause, they don't go far. Cheek to cheek, they catch their breath, still holding on to each other for dear life.
"Friends who kiss, huh?" Geralt muses, enjoying the way Jaskier shivers under his hands when he whispers it into his ear.
"Friends who do... more?" Jaskier asks carefully.
"I don't kiss friends, Jaskier."
That has the bard pulling back to look up at Geralt with a little frown.
"Don't pull this bullshit now." Jaskier says, looking just a little hurt.
"You are so much more." Geralt confesses, taking a leap of faith, hoping to everything that he read this right.
Judging from the way Jaskier looks at him when comprehension hits, it seems like he did.
"So... can I kiss you again?" Jaskier asks, eyes studying Geralt's intently.
"You can do anything you like." Geralt smiles, and then Jaskier is on him again. Lips parting, fingers curling into shirts and the need for each other growing. They are not close enough, not near close enough, despite having their bodies pressed together oh so tightly.
"More?" Jaskier whispers.
"Everything." Geralt answers.