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"There's a fireworks display for the autumn festival in Arcadia."
Jaskier paused his absent strumming at Geralt’s quiet words, potential lyrics leaving his mind in an instant. Geralt’s been silent this portion of the drive, not looking away from the windshield for the past hour or so. Jaskier had assumed his hunt last night hadn't gone as well as he'd hoped, but maybe it was this.
"Okay... do you want to go?" They haven't been travelling together long, just over a year on and off, and sometimes Geralt is still hard to read. He didn't think sudden bright lights and loud bangs would be something witchers enjoyed but he can't see another reason for bringing it up. They're not too far away, maybe a day's drive away so there's plenty of time to make it before the festival.
"Yes. If you do?" Jaskier just stares at him a moment, desperately hoping his heart isn't speeding up, and slowly watches Geralt’s ears turn redder. They've been dancing on the edge of something for a while now and Jaskier can't tell if this is meant as a date or something else. "We won't be in the city itself, they set off the fireworks from the barges, and we have a place across the bay. It's, I mean, we can go into the city during the day, but…" He trails off with a shrug, still resolutely facing forward, blush darkening.
"We?"
"Hmm?"
"You said we have a place?"
"The Wolves." There's a deep inhale, "Eskel will be there, Vesemir if he's back in time. Ciri."
Ah, so this is about meeting the family, which is uhh, not where Jaskier thought this was heading, not yet anyway. He's heard about them, even spoken to Lambert and Ciri on the phone on a couple of occasions when Geralt’s been injured or up to his elbows in potion ingredients.
There's only one answer he can give, "Yeah, let's go." And he gets graced with the smallest, sweetest smile in response.
--
It's almost sunset the following day when Geralt carefully turns the horsebox of the main road onto a track heading towards the cliffs. After a few minutes a large ranch style house with a separate barn comes into view, a handful of horses in one of the fields, heads coming up as they pull up beside a slightly smaller horsebox in a dusty red.
Jaskier stays in his seat when Geralt slides out, just in time to be hit by a streak with dungarees and ash blonde hair, resolving into a girl maybe eleven or twelve covered in patches of mud. Ciri, it must be, has her arms round his neck and is already speaking a mile a minute and Geralt just presses a kiss to the top of her head then buries his face in her hair, the hand not supporting her running up and down her spine.
Eventually she sticks her head up, wiggling slightly so she can see above Geralt's shoulder to look over at Jaskier with a sunny smile and an enthusiastic wave that nearly catches Geralt in the face.
"Hello little lioness." He bows as much as he can while sitting down and is rewarded by a bright laugh.
"Alright, you can keep him." Jaskier blinks at her non sequitur, and she nods decisively.
"I thought you were gonna wait a few days, cub." A man appears on the porch from around the side, wiping his hands on a flannel and heading towards them. The scars twist his lips down but his face is friendly, and he easily scoops Ciri off Geralt after catching them both in a tight hug, trapping her briefly between them.
"But he called me little lioness, Uncle Eskel!"
"...Ciri."
Geralt is suspiciously quiet, just watching them with a gentle look before shaking himself and going to unload Roach before she breaks herself out.
"Come on, I'll show you up to your room, assuming you want one of your own?" Jaskier almost falls out of the cab, face heating up at Eskel's raised eyebrow, and there's a suspicious thump from the back. Grabbing his bags, he follows them, Ciri now hanging backwards off Eskel's shoulders, describing what she wants to get at the market tomorrow. Mostly food it sounds like, but also a handful of gifts for her family, which apparently includes the scruffy cat that lives in the barn as she'd just had kittens and so deserves something nice.
--
The temperature falls as night does, and Jaskier steals Geralt's jacket, abandoned as he trails after Ciri as she shows off her sparring progress against Eskel. Jaskier had thought she'd have burned off more energy as they explored the festival markets in the city earlier, but it seems not. He's so caught up in watching them that he doesn't notice more people are arriving around the firepit until someone drops onto the log next to him.
The newcomer flashes a cheeky smile Jaskier’s way, and Jaskier has to take a moment to take him in, because he is Handsome. Jaskier's lost, just staring at him; shoulder length black waves frame well styled facial hair and laughter lines, all accentuated by the flickering firelight. He could write a song about this, or several. He's only jolted out of it by knuckles brushing across his shoulders, Geralt coming up behind him.
"Aiden?" He can hear the frown in Geralt’s voice. "What are you doing here?"
"It's the festival, we thought we'd come see the rest of you." Even Jaskier doesn't believe the innocence in his voice and he met Aiden less than five minutes ago. Geralt just gives an unimpressed hum, hands absently kneading Jaskier’s shoulders, and he relaxes in response.
"Well, well. Who's this?" The lazy purr belongs to a terrifying looking woman in a black and white dress who's stepped around the fire, looking at Jaskier with a raised eyebrow and a glass of wine, not a grain of sand on her. He instinctively starts to rise but Geralt's hands on his shoulders keep him seated.
There's a loud whistle then bang as the first of the fireworks is set off across the water, cutting off the conversation as Ciri screams in excitement and frantically points, bouncing up and down. Then the sky bursts.
Red.
Gold.
Pink.
Blue.
Geralt’s hands tighten briefly, then he seems to sway, letting go with one hand. Looking over his shoulder Jaskier sees another witcher has slammed into his side, who he recognises as Lambert. Geralt tugs him close for a moment, then shoves him towards Aiden, who manages to twist them so Lambert lands half in his lap, grumbling.
"Hey asshole, its the first time you've brought anyone in nearly 50 years, like we were going to stay away."
There's a rough snort and Jaskier looks around to see Eskel desperately trying not to laugh, half leaning on another woman, dark skinned with a wide smile. Ciri has ended up tucked against the first woman (Yennefer he belatedly realises) far more entranced with the sky than her rest of them, who watches her with soft eyes and a hand running through Ciri's hair. An older man is watching them all with a vaguely long suffering expression, Vesemir then, the last of Geralt’s immediate family.
Geralt himself sighs, slipping round the log to drop down next to Jaskier, arm hesitantly wrapping round his waist. So what else was he supposed to do other than lean close and settle in to watch the show.