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Despite his best efforts to stay warm and stylish, Jaskier felt as though the wine red coat was not the best nor the most terrible choice he could have made to wear over his teal suit with the violet tie. His flatmate Priscilla snorted when she saw him leave his room like that, but it was too late to go change now, because down the road he saw the black clar leaving the garage.
Gripping his bag’s handle a little more firmly, he mentally prepared himself to greet his neighbor and coworker with a warm smile, even if his nose felt like falling off soon. The snow had done quite a number on the road the past days, but luckily it had already melted a little to make the roads accessible and safe again. Jaskier remembered sliding down the pathway to the building he lived in, the ice sparkling in devillish mischief at him from below.
The SUV stopped in front of him, tires pressing down on the gray sludge. After deeply breathing in and out once more, Jaskier opened the door and smiled at the driver. “Good morning, Geralt.” After knocking his shoes against each other one after the other to shake off the snow, he sat on the passenger seat and placed his bag between his feet.
“G’morning,” the man next to him spoke, voice still raspy, presumably from having not spoken all night and morning. “Sorry for being a little late today, I hope you didn’t wait too long.” He paused. “The car made some noise when I started it, but I couldn’t find the problem. I’ll get it fixed tomorrow, just ignore the sounds.” Finally, he looked at his neighbor with his light brown eyes.
“Oh, I hope it’s nothing terrible,” Jaskier replied, blindly grabbing for the seat belt and securing himself with it. “Do you want me to pay up? Since you let me drive with you more often than not.” He had some money on the side for emergencies, but he could not refuse to help out Geralt financially, as it was more than generous of him to even take him to work 5 days a week and back on tuesdays and thursdays.
“Don’t worry, that’s not why I brought it up.” Geralt started the car back up, the motor’s protesting noise perceivable even to Jaskier’s grandma three streets away. The music came back to life, the ventilation’s stream blew softly against their skin and fought against the condensation besieging the windshield.
And so, they started driving to work. Jaskier could not help but stare at Geralt every few minutes, at his hands on the steering wheel, at his arms covered by a black, heavy jacket, at his focused gaze on the road, the light stubble decorating the strong jawline beneath the distinct cheekbones and above the crimson scarf, the slightly crooked nose and the earnest eyebrows, at the white hair effortlessly tied at the back, but only the top part, with a few strands falling out in the front. Such a strong, steel exterior for a stern, yet mellow interior.
Truly, Jaskier had been observing his neighbor like that for the past year, and a few times when they had met in the grocery store coincidentally, or when they shared an elevator in their working place’s modern building. He vividly remembers the first time he saw the man.
It was late summer, about one and a half years ago. Jaskier had just started at the firm about 3 months prior to that incident, freshly graduated from university. Despite the degree in marketing and landing a job at one of the most employee-friendly workplaces, he felt neither clever enough to be there, nor talented enough to help with the advertisements. It had taken him weeks to even dream about working as efficiently as his coworkers who seemingly got everything right every time without even trying. Additionally, he now worked a different schedule, starting an hour earlier and adding two more hours on tuesdays and thursdays. The overall situation had influenced his well-being greatly, so Jaskier did not necessarily look his best when he walked into the lift’s small enclosure after taking the hottest, sweatiest, most crowded bus for an hour. He had no fear of elevators, but they still made him feel uneasy, because what if.
However, all of his worries ebbed from his flooded mind when a man quickly joined him in the lift, pressing the 3rd floor’s button. This man wore a form fitting outfit consisting of a visibly high-quality shirt, black slacks and formal, but functional shoes perfect for heavy, scary steps. Jaskier couldn’t believe his sight, he must have worn the wrong contact lenses before, because suddenly he was able to see beautiful old men and reconsidered all his past relationships with boys his age - he only was later told that Geralt’s hair was in actuality simply a genetic mutation and not due to age.
Geralt tapped on one of the radio’s buttons twice, skipping the same song he always skipped, always too quickly for Jaskier to read the title, because he always pressed the button twice when the other song was still fading out.
“Ah, before I forget it- I should have probably said something before we drove off, I- uh I made you a playlist,” Jaskier explained when he searched through his bag for his phone. “We have been listening to this same CD for a year now and I figured you might want to… broaden your music horizon?” When he finished his suggestion, heat rushed into cheeks which turned a little red. “Not that I want to bother or change you with that… You don’t even have to listen to this at all, this is just a small gesture. As a thanks, I guess.”
Instead of replying to anything he just said, Geralt asked plainly, “oh, do you have the CD with you?” He looked at him for a brief moment with alerted eyes, and gripped the steering wheel a little more tightly.
“No, it’s actually a Shmotify playlist! I even added a little cover for the playlist and a description.” When Jaskier noticed Geralt’s confused look, he tilted his head to the side. “Don’t tell me you don’t have a Shmotify account!”
“Guilty as charged,” Geralt admitted with a sigh, pausing the radio and thereby silencing the ‘best hits of the 80s’ music that has been sung and played for over a year on repeat. “You can connect your phone to it. Just don’t change the settings or anything.”
“You want to listen to it right now?” The surprise in Jaskier’s voice couldn’t have been more obvious, dripping and creating a pool of raised eyebrows and slightly ajar lips. “You don’t have to, it’s just a little playlist with really amazing songs. Not that 80s music was terrible, but it doesn’t hurt to be more in touch with… contemporary lines of emotions.”
“Yes, just put it on.”
Swallowing his nervosity, Jaskier rubbed his hands on his coat before gently typing around on the touchscreen on the right of the dashboard. A whiff of freshness tingled in his nose, a scent that sent waves from the nerves in his nose directly to the brain, shaking it and making it work overtime. He guessed that it was an expensive brand of after-shave, not very pungent so with little alcohol, but nevertheless quite strong. Earthy, woody, and a hint of a flower, orange blossom. Even the tiniest bit of amber.
Slightly shaking fingers finally connected his phone to the car radio and only a few seconds later the playlist began in the order Jaskier had assigned the songs, because the harmony and flow of music was important. Since his intention was not to scare his crush with totally alien music, he had chosen the first song to be the 11th one, This Charming Man by The Smiths.
Jaskier observed Geralt from the corner of his eye, waiting for any little movement or change in his body language that would suggest discontent, so when he saw the man move his finger to the radio, he stopped breathing. He would now shut off the radio completely and scoff, as he always did at things he didn’t agree with. He did it when Jaskier had ranted about his college, his abusive ex, his work, and when Geralt, as rare as it was to get something out of this absolutely talkative man, shared a few details from his private life that bothered him. It was usually in an attempt to sympathize with Jaskier, as they both had similar experiences.
But he didn’t.
He did the opposite. Geralt turned up the volume, which Jaskier took as a cue to be quiet and let him enjoy the music.
It was only about 30 minutes later, when Crywank’s It’s Okay, I Wouldn’t Remember Me Either faded out and the melody of M.M.G.A.T.M. by Field Medic sounded from the speakers, when they almost reached their destiny, when they would part ways for the weekend, that Geralt spoke up, “I’ve noticed that you never wear a scarf. It’s quite cold and you always look like you’re freezing your ass off waiting for me, so I bought you one. See it as a late holiday gift. It’s on the backseat.”
Jaskier blinked. “Wha-”, he stammered, but quickly shut up to reach behind him, feeling material soft to the touch. With one swift movement, he pulled it to the front, taking in the minimalistic, but gorgeous scarf. The blue shade matched his winter teint perfectly, it even fit most of his outfits, and his eyes. Lost in thoughts, not hearing them because his heart beat far too loudly against his ear drum, he carefully wrapped it around his neck, the faint smell of Geralt on it and filling his senses. “Thank you. It’s so soft and not scratchy at all,” he mumbled, his eyes taking in all of Geralt next to him. “You’re really considerate. That’s the sweetest thing anybody has ever done for me.”
“Don’t push it,” Geralt replied, clearly uncomfortable with kind words, but he quickly corrected himself, “Don’t mention it. It’s nothing. Saw it at the store and thought you might like it.” Playing it down, just as Jaskier did with the playlist, they both did not need to share more words, yet there was so much unspoken between them that should become spoken.
Especially since Jaskier couldn’t bear to take off the scarf in his office, wanting to feel Geralt’s care on his neck and smell him, even if the scent was thin, even if the room was perfectly heated and provided warmth, just not the one Jaskier sought.
Finally, after 4 hours working overtime, Jaskier left his office and the department, entering the elevator with a tired sigh. It was already dark outside, one of the reasons why he disliked winter; if it was at least light till 8 outside as it is in fall or spring, but no. He pressed the button for the third floor to refill his water bottle there - as they still have not repaired the water fountain in his department and the sink was deemed too dirty - and the lift’s motion made him feel a little uneasy. It stopped fairly quickly again, at the 3rd floor, and the doors opened up.
“Oh, hello again, Geralt,” Jaskier greeted the man, setting foot in the transportational room. “Didn’t know the Department for Security could have you work overtime.”
“Yeah, I was the lucky one out of the team to escort the son of the CEO to some meeting outside of town,” the white-haired man told him, his voice tainted in the sarcastic tone he used so often. “Just got back to grab my belongings.” His eyes fell onto the scarf that barely hid Jaskier’s blush. “Do you like it?”
“Yes, I do. And sorry about that.” They stared at each other for a while; a moment that felt way too long in the best possible way, even the lift didn’t disturb them with its movement and the annoying voice announcing the level didn’t interrupt their silent conversation.
Only when they both seemed to notice that it took an awkwardly long time to reach the ground floor, Geralt tore his gaze away to look at the buttons. None of them were pressed.
Oh .
Geralt fixed this issue immediately, pressing the ground floor’s button, and the lift started moving once more. “Do you want a ride back home?”, he offered his neighbor, glancing upon him with one raised brow. “There was a car accident on the highway out of town, so your bus would get caught in the traffic jam there. But we can take the other route. Can’t promise that we will be much faster though.”
“Why yes, that’s really kind of you. Public transport brings out the worst in people, and today I’ve dealt with a lot of shitheads already and you will be much better company.”
‘Ground floor.’
“Better company?”, Geralt wondered as they left the elevator, and it was at this moment that Jaskier reflected on what he just said.
“Yes. Like… Horses are better than camels. They don’t spit,” he tried to save himself, choosing to ignore which exact words left his mouth, but still with little confidence.
“Horses are indeed good company.” Geralt opened the door to the back door for employees only, let Jaskier exit the building first and then followed suit. “Ciri and I used to ride way back when we visited my uncle.”
Aside from Geralt’s SUV, there were only 3 other cars still in the parking lot, which was covered in snow. The yellow light from the lamps made the cold carpet appear dirtier than it most likely was, but the sound of pressing your foot down on freshly fallen snow was comforting, even if it was a thick layer. Big flocks of white fell down from the sky, landing on them and attempting to form a coat, however their clothes were still warmed from the inside.
“Can your car handle the snow?”, Jaskier asked as they approached the vehicle, worrying that they might get stuck. It had happened to the bus in the past, so his fear was justified. When the car was unlocked, he opened the door and knocked the sludge off his boots before sitting into the car.
When Geralt sat on the driver’s seat and buckled in, he nodded and started up the car, the strange noise ringing in their ears once more. “I’m more concerned about ice on the roadway, but we’ll manage. I’m a good driver.” With a flick to a lever, the windshield wipers sprung to action and removed the snow effortlessly. “Do you want to start the playlist again?”
Electricity ran through Jaskier’s veins, the question forcing energy and speed into his fingers as he connected his phone to the radio again. “My phone is almost dead, so let’s hope the battery lasts long enough.”
It did in fact, not last long enough.
When the engine roared in illegible words as they drove on the uncleared and unfrequently used road, Jaskier had started to worry, but Geralt seemingly remained his cool. Only when the car didn’t respond to anything he did, he yelled at him to brace himself, before the car came to a halt next to the road, hitting a fence after sliding at a . Luckily, both of them were unharmed, but Geralt still insisted that Jaskier should visit the doctor the next day, as he was clearly shaken up.
“Fuck. Engine’s gone to shit completely,” Geralt mumbled, standing in front of the exposed organs of his car. He slammed the hood down, walking over to his neighbor who said in the passenger seat, staring at his phone. Empty. “You alright?”
Jaskier looked up at him. “It’s dead. Can’t call anyone.” His fingers, pale and red at the tip and joints, clutched his phone, as if the warmth would be sufficient enough to charge it. “What about your phone? Can’t you call someone?”
“No service. The only person I could have called is my ex-wife, but she can’t come anyway. She’s got this important event to attend. Plus, I don’t want her to drive on this road either.” The man raised his arm, exposed his wrist and stared at the watch. “Shit. I should be at her place to take Ciri. I hope Triss is alright with taking care of her.”
“Triss?”, Jaskier asked, as nosey as he was. “Is she your new girlfriend?” Curiosity might kill the cat, but at least it strived for something. Plus, he was also interested in Geralt as a person and, of course, romantic partner, so the question was justified.
“A friend. She lives in the same neighborhood as Yen.”
They were alone, in the middle of nowhere, with no reception, no warmth or food, only a broken car and their clothes, a little moonlight and the flashlight from Geralt’s trunk that he had used to examine the damage.
“One of my friends lives in a town nearby, we could ask him to take us home. Or to a hotel; the streets should be cleared tomorrow noon.”
Upon hearing those words, Jaskier nodded and hopped from the seat. Trying his best to not entertain any funny ideas, his brain bombarded him with scenarios of them sleeping in the same hotel room, like a couple. Or one-night-stands. With a face redder than a tomato, he dug his face deeper into the scarf, shaking off the snow that had collected on his pants.
“Let’s hurry then, my toes need to be defrosted.” Carrying his bag over the shoulder and shoving his hands into his coat’s pockets where he stored his phone and keys, Jaskier shut the car door with his hip and heard it beep, finally locking entirely.
They had decided to walk next to the road behind the protecting steel fence, guided by the flashlight’s surprisingly strong beam of light - “I invested a small fortune into this one. For emergencies like this. It also functions as a weapon”, Geralt had said - and the far away lights of the next town. The snow had died down, but nevertheless the white carpet had grown thick enough to reach above their ankles.
Being so far away from any big city the stars above them sparkled in hundreds if not thousands and Jaskier could not shut up about light pollution. “I think my biggest life goal is to visit Scandinavia or Canada. Not only because of the polar lights, but also because the light pollution in deserted places is almost non-existent, so the stars- they shine so brightly. It’s truly magical - like in those images that you see online but think ‘I wish the night sky looked like that here’, and you wonder what you’re doing wrong. But it’s not you alone, it’s us as a whole, so-”
Geralt, who had seemingly not listened with lots of interest, interrupted him, “Why not go to Russia? I thought your family was from there?”
Blinks expressing his confusion, Jaskier cleared up the misinformation, “Oh, uh, my parents are from Poland. And I wouldn’t wanna go to Russia anyway, or even Poland. It’s kinda… difficult. With all that’s going on right now.” His mouth agape, he pressed his lips shut when he realized he dug himself a hole.
“What do you mean?”, Geralt questioned further, which made Jaskier sigh in defeat but also tell the truth. Secrets are poison to any relationship.
“There are some political discussions, very old-fashioned… uhm… It’s not really… queer-friendly over there,” he explained, fidgeting with his fingers despite the pain. “Look, I don’t want you to think differently about me now-”
Once again, Geralt interrupted him. “It’s alright, don’t worry. I’m assuming you’re not out at work yet? Your secret’s safe with me,” he reassured his neighbor and directed the flashlight at him. “Your fingers… Are your pockets not insulated?”
Still processing Geralt’s promise, he shook his head and stared at him when they both stopped walking. “You don’t have any questions about my identity?”, he simply spoke, mindless and heartful, feeling his pulse in his ear and hearing finger movements, so he looked down where the flashlight had been shoved into Geralt’s pants.
He was taking off his gloves. “Take them. My hands are warm enough for now and my jacket can keep me warm. I can take you to the shop where I got mine, your coat is unfit for such occasions.”
Only when Geralt touched Jaskier’s hands, his own hands rough and strong, yet their touch so gentle and careful, did he react and attempted to pull back, but the grip grew firmer. “No, it’s alright. I can deal with it, Geralt.”
“Just take them, Jaskier.” His voice was genuinely the sweetest it has ever been and Jaskier felt like this was the weirdest place to become heaven. Geralt proceeded to push the leather gloves onto Jaskier’s hands, feeling his skin and wrists, probably for his pulse; the idea of which mortified the young man.
Accepting this gesture, Jaskier grumbled, “thank you”, before picking up on the offer. “And sure, let’s… go to that shop next week, maybe? I didn’t dress for this ‘occasion’ because I wasn’t expecting it.”
Geralt grabbed the flashlight and continued to enlighten their path. “You always need to be prepared for this. You should also buy a more suitable pair of boots.”
“Relax, I will. I’m not rich enough. You’ve worked a few more years than I have, so you could save up for all of that and probably even more expensive stuff.” It wasn’t that Jaskier was jealous of Geralt’s wealth, because they both earned their work’s worth, but he grew up in a broken home tainted by poverty and divorce, his parents more enamored with their passions than their child.
“Yeah, I worked hard for it. I wouldn’t be where I am today without changing my own destiny,” Geralt remarked, a little sourly, and Jaskier felt bad for his word choice and tone.
“Sorry. I didn’t mean it like that,” he spoke sincerely and rubbed his hands, still feeling the other man’s warmth on them. “I just… got a lot on my back, I guess. Shouldn’t have resorted to taking that out on you.”
A tap with a flat hand on his shoulder encouraged Jaskier, before Geralt spoke up. “Don’t worry, I get it. Been through some horseshit as well.”
“With the divorce? Custody battle and all that legal stuff? I imagine that it’s draining, both financially and mentally”, the younger man probed cautiously as he knew how much his daughter meant to him.
“Oh, no. The divorce was actually good.” Geralt paused, before opening up. “I worded that wrong. I… Yen and I, we still grieved the loss of the relationship we had, you know. We had been a team for years and we both realized that we loved each other, but not romantically, only platonically.” Apparently waiting for a reaction, or to sort his thoughts, another pause. “It had taken quite a toll on Ciri, but when she realized that we still would be her parents and love her the same - just not the same as before -, she was actually quite excited and happy for us. Plus, she could have an additional mom and dad. I remember when she came up to me and said, ‘when will you bring another dad, I want to play football with him’, so… happy. She had been so unhappy before, when Yen and I announced the separation.”
Jaskier malfunctioned, stopped walking.
Geralt, bringing home another … dad ?
“Wait, hold up, that’s sweet and all, but you’re bi?”, he asked when Geralt came to a halt next to him. “I thought you were straight?
“You didn’t know? I thought the whole fucking firm knew, because my dear buddy and co-worker Lambert got drunk at the firm party in July and told everybody and their grandma that Yen and I found out that she and I are lesbian and gay, actually.”
That was total news to him, it took a few seconds for realization to start to fly in. July, that was when he was on vacation in Greece with his friends.
“Wow, what a spaghetti dick move. But congratulations on the good outcome. No pun intended.” Jaskier smiled, because truly, that was worth congratulating. Finding out late in life that you’re queer is quite a big change, but Geralt was still on good terms with his ex and even got a kid. That’s more than other people were left with after finding themselves. Admittedly, it was a story worth telling, but Jaskier still disliked this Lambert guy for what he did. “No, really, that’s… amazing! I appreciate you opening up to me more, thank you.”
In the passive light, Jaskier swore he saw Geralt smile at him.
His heart felt 10 tons lighter, knowing that his crush was also attracted to men, and would keep his secret truly safe.
“You make it easy. Even if you’re sometimes a little annoying,” Geralt admitted. It was said in a light-hearted manner, like a half-joke, but still, it hit a nerve.
“Annoying?” Jaskier felt his shoulder slump, the weight of his past crushing down on him. It had always been this one word, never irritating , sometimes even bothering , but mostly annoying . Be it by classmates, crushes, friends, family, everybody seemed to find Jaskier’s being or presence as a negative influence on their mood. Back in the day he would cry himself to sleep, wondering what is so absurdly different and terrible about him, and, in an attempt to appeal to others, he would change himself. When he found out he was queer, he pushed that part away farther, until he realized that he was good just the way he was. That there was nothing inherently bad about him.
But still, hearing Geralt use that word when describing him pushed him down that spiral slide.
Before the older man could defend himself or his word choice, Jaskier spoke up, “Is it my constant over-sharing or talking? Did I ask too much of you to drive me? What is it, that is ‘a little annoying’? My little gifts of gratitude?”
Geralt, being as brutally honest and as-a-matter-of-fact as he always was, replied bluntly and picking up any participation for a verbal fight, “You do talk a lot. But-”
“I talk a lot? Well, better than only humming or even keeping silent as the most passive conversation partner, because I try to keep our conversations as interesting and enjoyable as possible. Sorry for being social!”
“Jaskier,” the warning tone in Geralt’s voice alarmed him enough to keep his mouth shut this time, so he only stared at him, blue eyes as wide as the sky and brows furrowed in frustration. “You know I’m not good with that stuff. So stop putting words in my mouth.”
“Well, that’s the only time you actually say anything.” Jaskier instantly regretted saying those words, they were mean and from the heat of the moment, but he knew he could not ever take them back.
Geralt took a step towards Jaskier, not in a threatening way, he didn’t build himself up in front of him, but it was still intimidating. “ That is what is annoying. You’re emotional, and I can’t handle emotions well. We’re so different- It’s tough to relate to you sometimes, and I hate that. You’re unpredictable.”
“Me? I’m unpredictable? Says the right one!”, Jaskier shot back. “I cannot get a read on you at all, you barely express yourself in any way, shape or form. I can’t even tell whether you actually like me, tolerate me or hate me. And that makes me so god damn anxious, because I don’t understand where I am with you- if my feelings have any raison d’être, because one day you almost ignore me and the next day you gift me the softest, warmest scarf and-”
“Your feelings?”
Jaskier halted after the interruptions, every thought, word, concept in his head stopped existing and his facial expression exposed him. His confession, unintentional. His lips parted, his mouth opened, yet nothing but stammering left his throat. “I… uh… I mean…”
The thick tension from before was gone, the wind pressed against Jaskier’s ear. Suddenly he was more than aware of their situation again, that they were alone, that it was cold, that he was so cold, and he just confessed his feelings in the most unromantic way.
After pushing the fleshlight into one of his pockets, Geralt lifted his hands to grab Jaskier’s mid-air, having moved in agitation before, and closed the gap between their bodies. “Your feelings?”, he tried, again. “Be honest.”
Jaskier licked his quivering lips as his eyes took in all of Geralt’s expression, his relaxed muscles so tense, their gazes burnt into each other. “I might have developed feelings for you,” he finally spoke; it was but a wisp, yet the man in front of him seemed to have understood it perfectly, if not read it from his lips.
Now one of the hands previously holding the gloved ones held Jaskier’s chin instead, the slightly warm sensation sprinkling goose-bumps all over his body. “Say it again,” Geralt demanded, his voice mellow, as if offering his gloves once more.
“You heard me the first time,” Jaskier retorted, feeling smug despite the sudden heavy tension between them, no longer rooted in anger, but in something else, something more meaningful. Perhaps this tension gave him the confidence to reply.
“Jeez, you really are annoying.” Before indulging in his irritation, Geralt simply crossed the distance of their lips, giving in to their deepest wish, the kiss breaking the invisible wall between them. It was a strong kiss, not a lovely one, but thousands of butterflies flapped their wings in Jaskier’s chest and all around them; the falling winter replaced by a blooming spring.
The gloved fingers slipped out of the grasp to find Geralt’s jacket, gripping the soft fabric and pulling the man into himself, not to deepen the kiss, but to gently make it last. The cold tip of their noses bumped awkwardly into each other, frozen lips hurting a little with movement as blood rushed to their cheeks, and Geralt, not being able to help himself, finally held Jaskier’s head with both hands.
“You’re so cold,” he mumbled after breaking the kiss by pressing his forehead against his neighbor’s. “Let me warm you up when we’re at my friend’s house.” After a pause, he added, “assuming you wouldn’t mind.”
“I wouldn’t mind that at all,” Jaskier replied instantly, his white breath dancing across Geralt's face before disappearing into nothingness. “We should hurry. Your nose feels like it might fall off.” With a headless smile, still intoxicated from the happiness hormones, he chuckled with his eyes closed. “I would never have imagined that… you feel the same way. I dreamed of it, but never actually thought of it as possible.”
Geralt inhaled sharply through his nose before speaking. “I have as well. More often than I’m willing to admit.” He dropped his arms to his sides, before eventually creating space between them again. “We should get going before we actually freeze our noses off, and you know what they say about the size of your nose.”
Not being able to cut his tongue, Jaskier remarked under his breath to himself, “and they say romance is dead.”
When they finally arrived at the house of Geralt’s friend what felt like days later to Jaskier, they rang the bell and waited. It was already late, their feet feeling like icicles, their noses wet with snot and their cheeks hurting. So when the door was finally opened and a warm whiff of air hit his body, Jaskier sighed in relief.
“Geralt, what- shit, what’s happened to you? Did you try to catch a blueback trout? Come in, you're red as a bug!” The short man stepped aside, making room for the two unexpected guests. “Take off your boots, the hot top hasn’t been cleared yet.”
“Thank you, Zoltan,” Geralt said as he stepped inside, followed by Jaskier. “We had a minor accident, the engine died and we were stranded. No signal, either.”
“Is it just apiece down the road?” Zoltan closed the door behind them and watched them take off their shoes and jackets, which he both stored neatly away in the coat rack and on the shoe rack.
“No, no, it’s on that shit road. Should have taken the other road with traffic; there we could have gotten picked up.”
“Ayuh. It’s nippy outside, too.” Zoltan sighed as he showed them into the living room where the fireplace was still raging, spreading its warmth in the small but comfortable space. “Better get you to warm up now. I’ll drive you home in the morning, already had a drink. Feel free to stay the night. But who’s the gawmy fellow anyway?”
Geralt looked over to Jaskier who had a hard time understanding Zoltan’s thick Maine accent. “Don’t be mean to him, he had a rough day. He’s my neighbor, Jaskier.”
“Ah, the infamous one, I see.” The host nodded with a knowing grin. “Well, nice to get to know you, I’m Zoltan.” He grabbed Jaskier’s hand firmly and shook it in greeting. “Good to finally see a face to the name.”
Jaskier, visibly overwhelmed, smiled politely. “Pleasant to meet you, too. Thank you for letting us stay.” He looked around the room. “It feels… cozy here. Is there enough space for a mattress in front of the fireplace or where will we sleep?”
At that, Zoltan’s eyes fell onto the couch and he let go of Jaskier’s hand to scratch his beard. “Well, y’know, I only got my own bed upstairs. Would offer it to you two but my spine can’t do the couch. But I can lend you blankets a plenty for the flooh, the ones on the couch might not be enough.”
“That’s alright, thanks again. The couch is enough,” Geralt affirmed and felt his phone vibrate in his pocket. “Ah, fuck. I gotta call Yen first.” He only needed to glance at Jaskier and nodded, crossed the room and entered the kitchen to chat over the phone with his ex-wife.
Jaskier grinned towards Zoltan and then went to grab the blankets. “I’ll get myself cozy. And warmed up. Thank you for your generous offer.”
“Ayuh. I’ll go to bed. Gotta get my beauty sleep,” the host joked and lifted one hand as a goodbye, before turning around and leaving the room.
The creaking of the stairs followed his departure and Jaskier opened a blanket, wrapped it around himself and sat down in front of the dancing red heat. Geralt’s voice quietly and unintelligibly rang out from the kitchen, but it was too far away to understand anything. He’d much rather continue sitting by the fire and warm his deep-frosted limbs back up again. nose pressed into the scarf still wrapped around his neck.
“Jaskier. Hey, wake up.” Geralt’s voice finally reached him and stole him away from the world of dreams and back to reality. The light touch of his hands on his cheek, ever so slightly rubbing, made him lean into the touch like a cat.
After a tired yawn, Jaskier finally murmured, “sorry, I… dozed off a little.” He looked up to his crush and gave him a coy smile. “Everythin’ alright?”
“Yes, don’t worry. I would have carried you to the couch to sleep there, but I didn’t know if that would be alright with you.” Geralt lent him a hand and helped him up, picking up the blanket mid-fall with the other hand.
“You would have had my permission.” Jaskier sat down on the sofa and once again looked up to the other man who stood in front of him. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing. Just figuring out what you’re thinking.”
Rubbing his neck, Jaskier blushed a little. “I’m thinking about you.”
“No, that’s-,” Geralt began, but stopped and chuckled. “No, I meant what you’re thinking about how we’re gonna sleep. There’s only one couch.”
“Oh.” His entire head felt hot, he probably looked like a tomato, but Jaskier still sheepishly proposed, “We could share this couch… Spooning or something.”
With this offer on the table, Geralt wasted not a single heartbeat and plopped down on the soft cushions, as well. “I was hoping you’d say that.”
It was awkward at first, but both found a comfortable way of cuddling when Geralt laid down flat on the sofa and Jaskier was on top of the side by the couch back, with one leg over Geralts’. His ear was right on his chest which expanded with every inhale and deflated with every exhale, paired up with the never-ending (slightly quickened) ba-bum ba-bum of Geralt’s heart.
Jaskier felt his crush’s fingers ghost over his black dress shirt, the blanket no longer shifting minimally with the repetitive motion. “This is nice,” he heard him state. “I think this is what I thought I had. But this is the real deal and I like it.”
“That reminds me.” He stretched his neck and found Geralt’s eyes on him already. Even from this angle, he was beautiful. “How did the call go?”
“Yen was understandably upset, but that’s how she shows she’s worried. Triss is staying at my house currently with Ciri, I sent her some money via Payball for the delivery service. She can’t cook for shit.” He sighed. “Despite that trouble, I’m… elated, that the evening is ending the way it is.”
“I’m too.” Jaskier smiled again at the soft eye-fucking - eye-kissing? How poetic - that was going on between them. “Are you free tomorrow?”
“Are you asking me out?”Geralt wanted to clarify, his smug expression nevertheless giving his security and confidence away.
Jaskier played along, even if he still could not believe that the very reality he was in right now was not a dream anymore. “Yes. I need some more inspiration for my poetry and you caught my eye.”
“Some more? This implies you already wrote poems about me.”
He swallowed. “Guilty as charged. I’ll show you some time, if you want?”
“Sure. If you read it out loud to me?”
Jaskier couldn’t have been more in love.