Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“Essi, I’m not built for running, you know this! I can do hiking, plenty of weight lifting. Might even find myself doing push ups and pull ups, but, cardio?! That’s surely one of the levels of hell.”

“You are so dramatic,” Essi says, tilting her head and pouting her pink glossed lips at Jaskier. 

“I’m not dramatic, I’m truthful. You’re dragging me to the gym because I got a little drunk and smoked one cigarette but I’m the one who’s being dramatic.”

“I’m your bandmate. If my lead singer’s lungs go out, I don’t have a band. And our numbers have been good lately, in case you’ve forgotten.”

“I’ve not forgotten, I know how talented I, I mean we, are. Thank you very much.”

“Gods you are such an arsehole,” Essi mutters, and pushes the door of the gym open. 

Jaskier works out enough. When he’s lifting equipment or hiking with Essi and Priscilla. When he’s performing he’s practically always jumping around. He’s very in shape. Essi thinks different because he got too drunk and smoked one teeny tiny cigarette in front of her. He doesn’t even usually smoke! He wouldn’t have even done it if the girl who offered one hadn’t been so attractive. 

Still, they check into the gym and head up to the track. Essi spends the next several minutes stretching, and Jaskier tries to follow suit. He follows Essi’s motions but isn’t sure he’s doing it right. Not that it matters. He’s going to run for all of two minutes and feign a fainting spell. Or get on a treadmill and do thumbs up at Essi while she does her thirty laps. 

“Are you sure I have to do this?” Jaskier whines. He presses the toe of his foot into the wall like Essi does, hoping to feel a decent stretch of sorts. He maybe does but isn’t certain. 

“I’m your best friend. I can’t allow you to smoke! There will be consequences!” 

Jaskier whimpers, finishes his faux stretches, and then follows Essi out onto the track. 

“For the last time, I don’t smoke, it was a terrible mistake,” Jaskier insists, turns left, and begins the disgusting task of jogging. 

He makes it all of three seconds before he goes headfirst into the torso of a man made apparently of stone. 

Jaskier flies backwards, landing on his backside and letting out a long huff. “Sweet Melitele, what just--oh…my gods, hello!” 

In front of Jaskier is a very sweaty, extremely gorgeous man. His hair is mostly grey, his eyes are a warm hazel, and his chest heaves in exertion, clearly interrupted mid-work out. The man’s eyebrow’s pull together, and then he extends a hand.

“You alright?” 

Jaskier licks his lips, tries to get his bearings. “I’m fine, perfect. Sorry, entirely on me.”

The man points to the side of the track, motioning towards a sign Jaskier had completely neglected. “It goes counter clockwise on Wednesdays.” 

“Of course. Right. I’m new.”

“No problem. You’re sure you’re alright?” 

“Absolutely!” Jaskier says, trying to not let his eyes stray anywhere too inappropriate. He doesn’t think he succeeds. 

The man starts jogging again, his form perfect. Jaskier stares as the man goes off, the most perfect set of arsecheeks Jaskier has ever had the pleasure of seeing making their way down the track as Jaskier watches with his mouth hanging open. 

“Careful, you’ll catch flies that way,” Essi says, almost startling Jaskier. 

“You didn’t tell me I had to go to the right!”

“I thought you could be in charge of yourself for longer than a minute,” Essi says back, smirking. “I see you made a friend.” 

“Essi, that’s the most beautiful man I’ve ever seen in my entire life.”

“I’ve seen him around. Very pretty. Never seen him speak to anyone before. Congratulations.” 

“And you never showed me before, so rude!” Jaskier accuses, eyes following after the very strong jawline and then going back to Essi, following her for a supposed three kilometers. 

He very bravely doesn’t feign a fainting spell. He does however make Essi go at a glacial pace. “It’s the only way I’ll survive!” Jaskier chokes out, and Essi only rolls her eyes and slows her pace to let Jaskier catch up. 

On the way out of the gym, Jaskier pushes his sweaty hair away from his eyes and catches Strong Jawline lifting weights. He could easily stare for a matter of hours, but Essi elbows him, rolling her eyes. 

“If you’re going to do something, do it. Gods, you’re making me itchy.”

“How am I supposed to approach someone like that!” Jaskier demands. “He’s like a Greek god but not into his mother!”

Essi snorts, shoves Jaskier’s shoulder. “I dare you to go talk to him.” 

Jaskier’s never been too intimidated to flirt with someone. Even if it doesn’t go anywhere, it’s still fun. So Jaskier pushes his sweaty hair away from his eyes and goes to speak to the most absurdly attractive man he’s ever seen. 

He clears his throat, and nearly chokes on his own spit as the man brings the weights he’s holding to his chest. His biceps are utterly ridiculous, ludicrous, would be comical if it wasn’t so impressive. 

“I was wondering, if you wanted to get a drink with me? I so rudely ran right into you, it would be the least I could do for interrupting your run?” Jaskier says, leaning against the brick wall behind him, hoping to all the gods that he looks casual and doesn’t look like he wants this man to swallow him whole. 

The man grunts lightly, sets down the weights, and then says, “You’re too young for me.” 

Jaskier scoffs. “You don’t know how old I am.”

“If you’re under thirty, you’re too young for me.” The man lifts his shirt to wipe his beading forehead. When he does, he reveals an absurd ten pack which Jaskier very valiantly tries not to drool over. 

“I’ll be thirty in just a short thirty six months, so, I see no problems with this rule.”

The man, to Jaskier’s delight, does laugh, though it’s more like a huff out his nose. But Jaskier can see the small smirk at the corner of his mouth. He knows he’s won, at least a little. 

The smile is the thing that does it, that causes the stupid lie. It’s so endearing, so lovely and warm that Jaskier blurts, “When I said drink, you know, it can be coffee or a beer between friends. I mean, I’m too young for you but I also wasn’t interested like that. I mean, long flowing hair, strong jawline, warm eyes? So not my type. Blech, yuck,” he says, waving a hand as if in disgust. “I hate…good looking people. But really, I worded that poorly. So just a…coffee with a new friend!”

Jaskier hates himself the moment he stops talking. As if he could ever pretend to be just friends with the God-like figure before him. Still, he bravely holds his ground, keeps smiling. 

The man narrows his eyes, then holds out a hand. “Geralt.”

Geralt. What an interesting name. Jaskier’s never heard it before. He holds his hand out for Geralt to take, then says his own name back, watches Geralt’s eyes slightly widen and his head nod as he takes in Jaskier’s name. 

“Give me your phone, I’ll enter my number,” Jaskier offers, hands perhaps too eagerly reaching. But Geralt forks over his phone and Jaskier enters his number, texts himself from Geralt’s phone. On Geralt’s home screen he sees a blond girl of maybe twelve with her arms around a chestnut horse. For the first time he recalls Geralt saying You’re too young for me, and wonders how old Geralt actually is. He hands the phone back, doesn’t say a word. 

“Well, see you around Geralt,” Jaskier says, and very bravely turns back towards Essi who is waiting at the front door. She’s grinning with her arms crossed, more like beaming. Jaskier narrows his eyes, sticks his tongue out at her. 

Essi slings her palm into the crook of Jaskier’s elbow, interlocking their arms. She smiles up at him, blond hair whipping around in the spring breeze. 

“You are so fucked,” she says softly, leaning farther into Jaskier. 

“You are such a terrible bitch, did you know?”

Essi throws her head back and laughs, leading them both towards her parked car. 

**

Jaskier scribbles a new lyric into his journal and immediately crosses it out. 

“Gross,” he mutters, crossing out the line more heavily. 

He’s been ignoring his phone for the last few hours, but he finally picks it up, swiping away immediately at the shit he doesn’t want. 

And then there’s a text new from a number not yet saved in his phone. 

Too good to be true. 

Received 7:21 pm Geralt Gym (horse emoji): Free tomorrow at 8 if you wanted to get coffee. 

Jaskier hasn’t woken up before eight in at least half a decade. 

Sent 7:33 pm: sounds great!  (coffee emoji) (sun emoji) how about at white orchard, the one off main and 9th?

Received 7:35 pm Geralt Gym (horse emoji): Works for me. See you then. 

*

Jaskier’s alarm goes off at 7:30 am and he immediately groans. He pulls the sheets over his head. He intends on chucking his phone across the room, and then he remembers. 

“A very beautiful man is waiting for you with caffeine,” he reminds himself. “It will be very worth it. Just get out of bed. Just do it.”

It takes him several more minutes to actually stand up, and that only happens because he realizes he doesn’t have his outfit picked out, and what if his hair is a wreck? He begins rummaging through his closet, finding, of course, nothing at all suitable. He calls Essi while he fixes his hair in the bathroom. 

“Jaskier, has someone died?” She asks, and there is actual concern tinging her voice. 

“No, I’m meeting Geralt and I don’t know what to wear.”

“Why are you awake?”

“Because he wanted to get coffee, at eight am, like some sort of sensible human with normal waking hours.”

“Oh gods love, just pick something. It’s going to be fine. Pick the uh, the blue button up. It brings out your eyes. Any trousers will do.”

“That shirt is boring. And any trousers?!”

“Jask, it’s coffee.”

“Stop being practical. Ugh. Fine. Go back to sleep.”

“Will do,” Essi says, and hangs up. 

Jaskier gets dressed, takes too long picking out his shoes and which rings he wants to wear, and arrives very promptly at White Orchard only eight minutes past eight. 

Geralt is already there, wearing a black and grey flannel, black jeans, and has his hair pulled half up to keep it out of his eyes. Jaskier nervously spins one of his rings around his finger, but plasters a smile across his face. 

“Morning!” He says. “Sorry I’m a tad late. I’m not really an early riser.”

“We didn’t have to go this early if you--” Geralt begins, but Jaskier immediately shakes his head. 

“No, it’s no trouble. Seeing London this early is…invigorating!”

Geralt snorts, begins to make his way into the line. 

“So, have you been here before?” Jaskier asks. He’s so nervous and he’s technically, really, not even trying to fuck Geralt. He’s just being friendly. But still, Jaskier feels a dire need to impress. 

“A while back.”

“They make a very good iced carmel macchiato,” Jaskier says, his go to order. Geralt snorts again. When they get to the counter Jaskier puts in his order and then Geralt orders a large latte, no sugar, like some kind of serial killer. 

They get a table, and Jaskier sucks down a third of his drink within a minute. Partially nerves, partially because he is wildly tired. 

Geralt sips at his drink, and then a tiny smile appears. He’s so handsome Jaskier is starting to get annoyed. 

“What do you do?” Jaskier blurts. 

“I’m a vet tech,” Geralt says, tilting his head. “What about you?”

Jaskier takes another long swallow of his drink. “I’m a musician, in a band with my friends Essi and Priss. We’ve been getting good gigs recently, more followers, things like that, though honestly that’s more Essi’s thing. But please, tell me more about what you do. What kind of animals do you work with?”

Geralt shrugs. “All kinds. I make house visits if I need to, but it’s a business I run with my family, so some of the animals are brought to my home. If I had a specialty it’d probably be horses.”

“Like on your phone!” Jaskier blurts. 

“What?”

“Sorry. Um, when I gave you my number. I noticed the photo of the horse.” He doesn’t mention the girl. He already feels a bit like a creep. 

“Right. She’s mine. Her name is Roach.”

“What a name, how’d you come up with that?”

“That’s what I named my first horse twenty years ago. They’re all named Roach.”

Jaskier laughs hard, has to cover his mouth. “That’s absurd, I love it.” 

“What kind of music do you play?”

He clears his throat. “Rock, I suppose. Though I like to think we’re difficult to put in a box.” 

“What’s the band name?  I’ll look you up.”

Jaskier swallows down only a small amount of mortification as he softly says “Too Many Bards.” 

Geralt nods. “Clever.” 

“We try. Maybe you’ll like it. I do have a lovely voice but it’s still not everyone’s cup of tea.”

“I’m sure you’re very talented.”

Feeling desperate to not speak about himself for possibly the first time in his life, Jaskier shakes his head, waves off the polite comment. “When did you get this Roach?”

“Six years ago. She was just a baby. I’ve got pictures, actually, if you want to see.”

“Of course I want to see a tiny baby horse, I’ve got two eyes and a heart!” Jaskier scoots his chair closer to Geralt’s, gestures for him to continue. 

Geralt gets out his phone and begins scrolling. After a minute or so a soft smile graces his lips, and then he turns his phone outwards so Jaskier can see. 

There’s a tiny chestnut foal with a white spot across her nose and ears she needs to grow into. Jaskier gasps softly. “Oh, she was the cutest thing. Goodness. Those eyes,” he coos, as if the horse can hear him now. 

Geralt takes the phone back, scrolls some more, and then shows Jaskier another photo of Roach, this time fully grown. “This is her last week.”

“She’s beautiful, Geralt,” Jaskier says, staring into the sweet horse’s face. He finds he very much means it. 

“Thank you,” he replies, and the look on his face as he looks at a photo of his horse is so terribly soft. Jaskier swallows hard, trying to feel very normal about this man he’s barely spoken to. Then Geralt swipes away from the photo and sees the time. “Shit, I’ve got to go.” He stands, holds his hand out for Jaskier to take. “Thanks for the coffee.”

Jaskier shakes his hand, Geralt’s palm rough, his grip steady. 

“No problem. You know um, we should do this again sometime,” Jaskier says, unable to stop himself. 

“Sure,” Geralt says, then turns and leaves, cup of coffee in tow. 

It’s 8:30 am, and now Jaskier’s got a whole lot of daylight ahead of him. 

*

It’s a bit ridiculous, he thinks, to be this infatuated by a man he’s talked to for a whole thirty minutes. But that’s his way isn’t it? Falling in and out of love at the drop of a hat. He once spent seventy-two hours convinced he was going to marry a girl he met after a gig only to sleep with her roommate the next evening. So he tries not to worry about it, this day spent wandering around the city for the morning with lack of anything better to do, thinking of warm eyes, silver hair, and a quiet gruff voice. It’s nothing to get twisted up about. He’ll find someone just as lovely to distract him soon enough. 

*

“Oi, enough!” Priscilla says, getting up from the drumset and flicking Jaskier in the side of the head. 

“Ow, what was that for?” Jaskier demands, rubbing at his injured ear. 

“We can’t practice when you’re distracted like this! What has gotten into you?”

“It’s what hasn’t gotten into him,” Essi snorts. 

“Oh come off it, I’m fine guys, we can go again,” he protests. 

“Gods, is it a boy?” Priss asks.

“This one is decidedly not a boy, a man in every sense of the word. Far out of my league. I had to pretend I was uninterested just to get him to agree to give me his number. I think he might have a kid actually.”

“Melitele’s sake Jask,” Priss says. “How’d you even find him?”

“He accidentally ran into him at the gym, it was funny at first but now I’m beginning to wish it’d never happened. Look at his big moony eyes,” Essi says, but she’s still smirking so she’s just teasing, there might still be a bit of hope. 

“All I did was get coffee with him two days ago, that’s probably all that will happen, let’s just please continue practice. Please.”

“I mean, he’s got a kid, is he married?”

“I don’t know, Priss!” Jaskier hisses through clenched teeth. “I don’t know for sure that he has a kid, I said he might.  I don’t even know if he’s into guys. I don’t know anything except  that he’s very pretty.”

“Just text him, get this out of your system. I’m giving up on getting any real work done today, heading to the bar. Come with me or don’t.”

“Thank fuck,” Jaskier mutters, taking the guitar off of his shoulder. 

“Weak, the two of you!” Essi accuses, but she puts down her bass and follows suit. 

*

“What is wrong with you?” Priss says, bringing her gin and tonic up to her lips. She takes a long drink. “You’re never nervous to text hot people.”

“I don’t know what it is, tell her Essi, the man is unreal. Plus he’s really sweet. He takes care of animals. He’s like a real life Disney prince!”

“He’s just a person,” Priss insists. 

Jaskier sighs, downs the rest of his whiskey, and pulls out his phone. 

Sent 10:26 pm: how is roach??

Received 10:32 pm Geralt Gym (horse emoji): Roach is good, she got a good ride in yesterday.

Sent 10:35 pm: glad to hear it! i’d  love to meet her. can  you believe i’ve never ridden a horse before?

Received 10:36 pm Geralt Gym (horse emoji) : Really?

Sent 10:39 pm: yeah never, not even as a kid!

Received 10:41 pm Geralt Gym (horse emoji): No, you’d really want to meet her?

Sent 10:42 pm: yes of course :) 

Received 10:45 pm Geralt Gym (horse emoji): You can if you want to. She’s not the friendliest at first but you can persuade her with treats. 

Sent 10:46 pm: really?!?! im so honoured!! 

Received 10:48 pm Geralt Gym (horse emoji): We can plan tomorrow, I’ve got to head to bed. Night Jaskier. 

Sent 10:49 pm: gnight geralt sweet dreams :) 

“Look at that,” Priss says, beaming at Jaskier. Essi is just laughing into her beer. 

“Oh bollocks, what have I gotten myself into?  I’m literally going to go see a man about a horse.”

Chapter Text

This go around, Jaskier has plenty of time to pick out an outfit, which might actually make things a lot worse. 

It’s spring now, the city is slowly warming, which gives Jaskier a wide array of options. Geralt is going to pick him up in three hours to go to some place called Kaedwen Stables, and Jaskier has no idea what he’s meant to wear. He wasn’t lying, he’s never ridden a horse, and doesn’t plan to start today. Still…boots, probably? 

Eventually he settles on brown boots, jeans, a striped shirt and a jacket. This is only after changing four times. He fiddles with his guitar while he waits for one pm to arrive, trying to distract himself with new song material. 

He’d looked up Kaedwen Stables. It was about forty minutes away, which means they’ll have a forty minute car ride, alone, there and back at the very least, which is enough to make Jaskier want to die a little. But Jaskier’s good at conversing, can talk at anyone for ages. He tries to remind himself of this when Geralt texts to say he’s arrived. 

Geralt drives a red pickup truck, which is kind of funny but also makes sense given his occupation. 

“Nice ride, has she got a name?”

“Jazda,” Geralt says as Jaskier climbs in. 

“You’re not funny,” Jaskier says while unsuccessfully holding in a laugh. 

“Does yours have a name?”

“Haven’t got one. Me and cars…don’t get along well. There was this whole thing one time, a lot of nonsense. Did you know that the brake and the gas don’t change? They just stay the same, all the time. Very confusing business.”

“That’s too bad. But you live in the city, you don’t really need a car do you?”

“Not really, no. Plus Essi drives me if I ever really need it. She helped me move six months ago.”

“Who is Essi again?” Geralt asks, putting on his turn signal. They merge onto the highway, and Geralt looks over, meets Jaskier’s eye. 

“Right, sorry. She’s our bassist. Priss does drums. I do guitar and vocals, because I’ve got the best voice.”

“Humble man, you are,” Geralt says, but his mouth is turned up, just a tad. 

“I’m classically trained. I mean, we all are. That’s how we met, but we all agreed I had the best voice.”

“Where’d you study?”

“Oxenfurt.”

“Oh, fuck,” Geralt says. He clears his throat. “I mean. That’s impressive. I guess that explains it.”

“Explains what?”

“I uh, looked up your band. You’re good.”

“Oh gods, I mean, thank you for being polite but you really didn’t need to listen.”

“To be honest, I was told on good authority that you are one of the best bands. Ever.”

Jaskier raises a brow. “Who are you talking about?”

“My daughter was familiar with your music. Apparently you’re very popular at school.”

Jaskier barks out a laugh. “How old is she?”

“Thirteen.”

“And what is the name of this girl with extremely good taste?”

“Cirilla. Ciri if you’re a friend.” 

“I’m glad that our talent knows no age boundary. Happy to feed the masses.”

“I can’t tell if she actually likes your band or if she just has a crush on the little blond one.”

“Essi? I’ll tell her she has an admirer. And, I mean, it can be both. It’s often both.”

“Ciri makes it seem as though it’s heartily both,” Geralt says, both hands on the wheel, smiling as he speaks about his daughter. 

“So,” Jaskier begins, already hating himself for what he’s about to ask. “You’ve got a daughter. Any wives or husbands I should know about? I personally don’t have either but admire those that do.”

Geralt clears his throat, tilts his head to the side. Jaskier definitely regrets asking. 

“No current spouses. Had a spouse. Ciri’s mother. We’re still good friends but um.” He stops, laughs a little to himself. “Definitely not married anymore.”

“Shit. Sorry. Shit.”

Geralt makes a right turn, the landscape flat and gorgeous. “It’s fine. It was years ago at this point. She really is still a very good friend.”

“Well, in that case, I’m glad it all worked out as well as it possibly could have! I do have another question. And a lady never tells but you are certainly no lady.”

“You want to know how old I am,” Geralt says, the smirk still gracing his face. 

“Yes. If you don’t mind. Or you can lie. I can pretend you’re twenty if you like.”

That earns Jaskier a laugh. “I’m thirty seven.” 

“You’ve got a whole decade on me, you old, old curmudgeon!” Jaskier leans towards Geralt as he speaks, elbowing him, doing his best to take the piss in an I-just-met-you way. 

“Being twenty seven again sounds awful,” Geralt says, eyes straight on the road. “Thank all the gods that’s over.”

“It isn’t so bad. I probably drink a tad too much, and my sleep schedule is utterly fucked, but I still think it’s mostly fun. Of course, I don’t have a toddler. I have trouble taking care of myself most days.” Going for self deprecating seems safe. Jaskier has about a hundred questions for Geralt but keeps them tucked away, knowing he hasn’t earned any answers yet. 

“Didn’t have Ciri when she was a toddler,” Geralt says. He doesn’t offer anything else. 

Jaskier scratches at the back of his neck. He thinks about how she’s got long, thin hair like her Dad. How the hair color might have been similar if Geralt wasn’t mostly grey. “Did you not know about her?”

That makes Geralt laugh in full. “She’s adopted. We got her when she was six.”

Jaskier swallows the urge to gasp. “Right. Of course. Sorry, none of this is my business.”

“You’re just asking, Jaskier. It’s fine.” He sounds like he means it. 

The rest of the car ride goes pleasantly. There’s small talk about Too Many Bards, about what grade Cirilla is in, and of course, about Roach. They eventually arrive at Kaedwen Stables, and Jaskier is feeling far more comfortable than he thought he would. Talking with Geralt has come easy. It’s easy to talk to most people, but there’s a certain solidness about the man that makes Jaskier feel safe, at home even, though he will certainly not be telling Essi or Priss about it. 

Eventually, Geralt takes an exit that leads to rural landscapes, a few stray houses but mostly flat land for miles. Jaskier enjoys the view. He has a brief moment where he realizes that he’s let a man he’s met only once before drive him into the middle of nowhere, but he’s never been one for self preservation. 

They arrive at Kaedwen Stables, the large wooden sign for the place really setting the rustic mood. Jaskier feels like he should be wearing a stetson. There’s a dusting of trees, several big barns, and a large expanse of long grassy fields where horses are sunbathing. It looks like a painting. He snaps a photo for Essi. 

“I keep Roach here when the weathers good. Need to keep her socialized.”

“It’s beautiful. How many horses are there here?”

“Twelve total.”

“I’ll need all their names. I love them already.” 

Geralt leads the way into the stables. He passes a woman with big curls and a kind, pretty face and waves hello. “That’s Triss,” he says. “She’s a vet too. She actually told me about this place.”

She approaches Jaskier, holds out her hand. “Hello, I see Geralt’s made a friend. How’d you get a nice young man to come out here with you, did you glare at him until he agreed?”

“I actually pestered him into submission. I wanted to meet Roachie!” Jaskier says, shaking her hand. 

“Roachie?” Geralt says, raising a brow. 

“What? I have to give her a nickname.”

“That’s longer than her actual name.”

“Tomato, tomahto, let me see her,” Jaskier says, hitting Geralt lightly with the back of his hand. “Nice to meet you Triss.” 

She nods, smiles, lets them make their way to Roachie.

She’s in the last stall. When she sees Geralt she dips her head a little, her lip line curling down. 

“Hi Roach,” Geralt says, his voice soft, almost a whisper. “Did you miss me?” He puts his hand on her nose. She paws at the soft ground beneath her. Geralt smiles. 

He turns to Jaskier. “Jaskier, this is Roach. Roach, this is Jaskier.”

“Can I pet her?” 

“Like I said, she isn’t the friendliest at first, but if I’m here I don’t think she’d mind. Go ahead. Just no sudden movements.”

Jaskier very slowly lifts his hand and puts his palm onto Roach’s nose. She’s velvety. She snorts a little, but doesn’t appear upset. He runs his hand down her snout, then up to between her ears where her white patch is. “Hello, girl. Pleasure to meet you.” 

“We should take her out,” Geralt says. He lifts the latch on her stall and opens the door. He leads Roach out of the stable, out to the grass with the other horses. 

“She just goes where you tell her?” Geralt’s got no lead, nothing to guide Roach aside from his own body.

Geralt leans into her. “She knows I keep her safe, and we aren’t going far. You know the drill, don’t you?” 

Roach doesn’t respond, only continues to follow where Geralt guides her.

They let Roach go out into the pasture. She goes slow, finds a nice sunny patch to stand in. 

“Do you want to give her a treat?”

“Of course I do!” Jaskier smiles wide at Geralt. “What do horses eat, actually?”

“For treats they eat fruits and vegetables. This way.” Geralt gestures over to the side of the building. There’s a storage bin. He opens it, retrieves a handful of apple slices. He hands a few to Jaskier. “Don’t approach her from behind, only the front so she can see you. And hold your palm flat, like this,” he says, then demonstrates. 

“No spooking Roachie, no making my fingers look like food. Got it.”

He approaches Roach with his apple slices, making himself go slow. “Me again,” he says to her, then holds his hand out like Geralt showed him. Roach snorts again, and then immediately goes for her treat. Her mouth tickles Jaskier’s palm, and he laughs as she munches. He puts another apple slice in his hand, and again she takes it greedily. 

“You’re a natural,” Geralt says. 

“I think it’s more a testament to the apples but thank you for saying so.” He feeds Roach a third apple, then turns to look at Geralt. “And thank you for bringing me here. I don’t think I’ve been out in the country since…well probably last time I went to my parents. Which has definitely been a while.” 

“Where do they live?”

“Lettenhove,” he says. I mean, they have other properties, but that’s where the main one is. It’s admittedly beautiful, though I can’t stay for long periods of time.”

“Should I ask?”

Jaskier shrugs. “They’re fine. We just don’t uh, see eye to eye very often. They wanted me to be a lawyer. Can you imagine?” 

“Kind of. You’re charismatic.”

“I wouldn’t last a day in law school. Sounds dreadfully boring.”

“My ex is a lawyer. Depending on what you specialize in, it can be very unboring.” 

“Ooooh, does she do murders?”

Geralt scoffs. “No. She’s got a lot of…powerful clients.”

“Should I hire her for when I’m famous?”

“Not celebrities. Politicians.”

“She sounds scary.” 

That makes Geralt laugh. “She is, when she wants to be. Anyway, thank you for coming.”

“I wouldn’t miss a chance to meet the most beautiful horse in the whole wide world, I would be a fool to--oh!” Jaskier reaches behind himself, feeling a tickle at the back of his neck. Roach is there, nibbling at his jacket collar. “Excuse you madam, do you mind?”

“Alright Roach, leave off,” Geralt says, clearly holding in a laugh. 

*

They put Roach away. Geralt presses his forehead to hers as he says goodbye, and Jaskier nearly looks away, feeling like it’s something private that he shouldn’t be allowed. On the drive back Jaskier gives Geralt music recommendations he didn’t ask for. When they pull up to Jaskier’s apartment, Jaskier has no idea what to do about his goodbye. A handshake seems strange, and Geralt doesn’t really seem to be the hugging type. 

“Thank you again,” Jaskier says. “That was loads of fun.” He already wants to see Geralt again so badly, needs to know when he’ll be with him next, so he blurts, “I have a show next weekend, if you wanted to come, or bring Ciri, I could introduce her to Essi.”

Geralt smirks. “I’ll come decide if it’s age appropriate first, then we’ll see about the next one.”

“Right,” Jaskier says, laughing. “I’ll text you the details.”

Geralt nods. “See you then.”

Before he can ruin it, Jaskier opens the passenger door and dives out. He turns, waves goodbye as he shuts the door. Then he walks into his building, practically sprints up the stairs, and then bolts into his apartment. He picks up the nearest throw pillow and screams into it. 

“What am I doing what am I doing what am I doing?” He mutters to himself. “I’m making a friend. He’s just a nice divorced dad who is making a new friend and that’s what you’re doing and you aren’t going to think about kissing him the next time you see him.” He goes into the bathroom, looks at his reflection. He points at himself in the mirror, gets very stern. “You aren’t allowed to make this weird. He’s a very nice man who happens to be very attractive and also extremely sweet but the point is. You, sir, aren’t going to ruin this.”

He holds his stern glare at himself for about five seconds. “Oh who am I kidding, I’m utterly fucked.”

*

Sent 3:13 pm: hi geralt! if you’re still able to come, the show is tomorrow at 7 (party hat emoji)

Received 3:20 pm Geralt (horse emoji)(apple emoji): I’ll be there. 

*

“Oh gods Essi, I’m so nervous I’m starting to wonder if I might actually vomit.”

“It’s just like any other show, stop being a freak!”

“No, but what if I actually vomit. What if I vomit as soon as I start singing. What if I vomit onto him? What if I vomit onto the entire crowd?”

“You’re pissing me off Julian,” Priscilla says, the name she calls him only when he’s really annoying her. 

“I’m sorry, I don’t know why this is any different than usual.”

“Because you like him, obviously,” Essi says. She finishes fixing her hair and turns to him. “Be excited instead of nervous. It’s going to be fine. He’s already heard our songs before.”

“But a performance is entirely different!” Jaskier insists. She gives him a sharp look, but doesn’t reply which means she agrees. 

“Finish your drink with me, you’ll feel better,” Priss says. So he does. He doesn’t know that he feels much better, but they go on in five minutes regardless. 

*

As it normally goes, the second Jaskier begins performing, his nerves fly away. He’s never happier than when he’s singing, and the crowd is incredible tonight, they know the songs which has been happening for a few months but isn’t something Jaskier thinks he’ll ever get over. It’s going so spectacularly that he even gets Essi and Priss to do their cover of Don’t Stop Me Now by Queen in the middle. 

When the show ends, he cleans himself up backstage, and goes to head to the bar with Essi and Priss. Before they make it there however, he notices Geralt, hair pulled all the way back, wearing a fucking leather jacket of all things. And he isn’t alone. 

He’s with a ridiculously pretty woman who is also wearing a leather jacket. She’s holding a beer, resting her elbow on Geralt’s shoulder despite the fact that he’s got a few inches on her. He’s beginning to wonder if Geralt is only friends scarily beautiful women. 

“There he is, shitting fuck shit,” Jaskier hisses. He suppresses his urge to hide behind Essi. “Who is that with him? Oh gods it’s his girlfriend. He’s had a girlfriend this whole time, and I’m a huge terrible arsehole.”

“You are a huge terrible arsehole, but you don’t know that’s his girlfriend,” Essi points out. 

“Holy fuck,” Priss says. “Okay, at least I get it now. I mean, hello nurse. I feel like that cartoon wolf with his eyes popping out of his head.” 

“Maybe I should just go kill myself in the bathroom?” Jaskier suggests. Essi sighs, takes his hand and leads them all to the bar. 

“Hey, here’s the band,” Scarily Hot Woman says. She sets her beer down on the bar. “You guys were great. Glad Geralt dragged me away from my gaming session.”

“You need to come out of your cave every so often,” Geralt mutters, then takes a sip of his own beer. 

“Oh shush. I’m Renfri,” she says, does a little wave to the group. She picks up her beer again, downs half of it in two swallows. 

“And I’m Priscilla, that’s Essi, and this is Jaskier who we keep around for some reason.” 

Renfri snorts, takes another gulp of her beer. “Anyone down for shots?”

“Would love a shot,” Priss says immediately. Essi raises her hand as well, and they crowd around Renfri to order. 

Jaskier turns his eyes to Geralt. “I fear we have created a monster between the two of them. Thanks for coming by the way.”

“Sure. It was fun. You guys are really good.”

It’s the simplest of compliments, but Jaskier’s traitorous heart still flutters in response to it. 

“Thank you. So um, how do you know Renfri?”

“Met at an axe throwing bar.”

“I’m…sorry. Did you say an axe throwing bar?”

“Yeah. You get to throw shit and drink. Those are Renfri’s two favorite things, so.” 

“That sounds dangerous, and fun!” 

Geralt hums, takes another sip of his beer. 

“What can I get you?”

“Oh um.” He still doesn’t know if Geralt is dating Renfri or not. He thinks he should probably just have a beer. A glass of wine. Something that won’t render him entirely useless.“Whiskey sour.” 

They all sit around the bar for a while. Jaskier gets into an argument with Priscilla about which ice cream flavor is best, and Renfri starts burping in Geralt’s ear to annoy him. Jaskier is getting the impression that they are not, in fact, dating. 

After three whiskey sours and a lot of ice cream discussion, Jaskier feels a tap on his shoulder. 

He turns and sees a woman with green hair and large, gorgeous brown eyes. She smiles at him, a little coy. 

“Hello love, what’s your name?” He asks. Now that he’s decidedly less sober his basic instincts to flirt immediately have taken over, even with Geralt sitting a foot away. Besides, he’s very much not dating Geralt. 

“I’m Ana. I loved your performance tonight.”

“Thank you, that’s really sweet.”

“I was wondering if you’d want to get a drink sometime?” 

He most certainly does want to get a drink sometime. No better way to get over an annoying crush than to get under someone else. 

“It would be my pleasure,” he grins, biting his lip for good measure. She writes her number on a cocktail napkin, squeezes his shoulder right before she walks away. 

“Maybe I should be a musician, then I’d have hot women giving me their numbers. What gives?” Renfri says. 

“You have to be charming and talented to be a musician, Renfri,” Geralt says, hiding a smirk behind his beer glass. 

“Well then I guess we’re both SOL,” she replies. She downs the last dregs of her beer, then slams the glass down on the bar. “As fun as this has been, I have to get going. When’s the next one?”

“Two weeks,” Essi says. “Same time same place.”

“Do you need me to drive you home?” Geralt asks. Jaskier is pretty sure he’s been nursing the same beer all evening, but he can’t be certain. 

“Nah, not unless you’re ready to go too.” She tugs on Geralt’s bun. “I’ll see you later.”

She takes her leave, and then Essi feigns a yawn. 

“I should probably go too. Come on Priss, I’m your ride.” 

They gather their bags and say their goodbyes. Essi throws a wink to Jaskier as they leave. 

Geralt finishes his drink, sets cash down on the bar. “What about you, do you need a ride?” 

He doesn’t, not really. He lives a short tube ride away, but if Geralt is offering he won’t say no. 

“Oh sure, that would be lovely.” He downs the last of his own drink, which he absolutely does not need, and then they head out. 

Jazda is parked close by. Jaskier thinks it’s probably a good thing he’s getting a ride because he does trip over the curb as he gets into the truck. 

“You good?” Geralt asks, eyebrow raised. 

“Never better.” 

Once he’s buckled and Geralt pulls out, Jaskier clears his throat, lets the whiskey do its job. 

“I’m really glad you came this evening. And brought your…friend?”

“Yeah. We dated very briefly. We had a lot more fun together when we stopped pretending to have feelings for each other. Think we have too much in common.” 

“Well it was an excellent evening all around. I hope we’ll see you at the next show.”

“I think we’ll have to bring Ciri to the next one. She’d love it. Probably less drinking though.”

Jaskier laughs, and his heart swoops into his belly. Geralt wants his daughter to go to one of Jaskier’s shows. 

“I’m so excited to meet her. I promise to be on my best behavior.” 

Geralt snorts. 

The drive is short, and mostly silent the rest of the way save for Jaskier’s humming. When Geralt pulls up to his apartment, Jaskier looks to him to say goodbye and with all the fuzzy feelings and the pleasant buzz, he feels an intense urge to lean over and kiss Geralt. He pushes the urge down and away. He’s not going to let whiskey sours ruin this. He clutches at the door handle before Geralt is fully in park, needing to flee before making a terrible mistake. 

He flings the door open, slams it shut. But he does tap on the window, wanting Geralt to roll it down. 

“This has been really fun. Thanks for hanging out with the weirdo from the gym.”

Geralt smiles, it’s small but there. 

“Have a good night Jask.” He rolls the window back up. 

Jaskier watches the truck drive away. 

He gave me a nickname, Jaskier thinks stupidly. He almost wants to cry. 

*

Received 7: 38 pm Geralt (horse emoji) (apple emoji): [photo of Ben and Jerry’s Phish Food ice cream]

Sent 7: 45 pm: thats the stuff!!! :D

Chapter Text

Sent 11:03 am: do you want to come to a practice? (music note emoji)

Received 11:10 am Geralt (horse emoji)(apple emoji): Can’t today. When’s the next one?

Sent 11:12 am: next one is thursday at 3

Received 11:25 am Geralt (horse emoji)(apple emoji): I’ll be there. 

*

“This seems less like band practice, and more like a drinking game,” Geralt says. He’s got his feet up on the sofa. 

“Well, it’s Essi’s fault for bailing. She knows Priscilla and I can’t be left to our own devices.” 

“It’s certainly an interesting look into the creative process,” Geralt replies, not bothering to hide his laugh. 

“Don’t you laugh, you have to participate too!”

“I’m not a member of this band. I have no musical skill.”

“That’s fine,” says Priss. You have to take a drink whenever Jaskier does.”

“Yeah, I don’t think I’m doing that. I will take a beer though.”

Priss squeals. “That’s the spirit.”

They eventually get half of a new song written. Even with several beers and no Essi to wrangle them, Jaskier’s pretty happy with the results. And Geralt has been laughing for probably a full hour, so it seems worth it.

“All right you two, get out of my house. I have a date in an hour,” Priss announces. 

“Is it the bartender or the pilates instructor?” 

“The bartender. The pilates instructor was bumming me out.” 

Jaskier packs up his guitar. 

“Do you want me to take you home?” Geralt asks.

“Sure!” 

They say goodbye to Priss and head out. Geralt is wearing his stupid leather jacket again, which along with the several beers isn’t helping matters. Jaskier makes himself behave though, keeps his hands in his lap for the duration of the car ride home. 

When they arrive at his apartment, Jaskier asks, “Do you want to come up, I could make us dinner?”

“You cook?” Geralt asks skeptically. 

“No, but I do know how to use my phone to make food appear at my door.”

“I can’t tonight, I told my brother I’d meet up with him. Work stuff. But raincheck. I’ll see you at your show on Saturday.”

“Are you still bringing Ciri?” 

“Yes. She’s very excited.”

“Tell her I’m excited too. I’ll see you then.” Jaskier throws him a wink as he gets out of the truck, which earns him a smile. 

*

The show goes even better than the last. Halfway through, he announces, “This song is for Miss Cirilla,” and Essi and Priss follow him into their cover of Bicycle Race by Queen. 

Backstage after the performance, he wipes the sweat from his brow, puts on a clean shirt, and goes to find Geralt and Ciri. 

“Hello! Long time no see!” Jaskier says. Renfri waves hello from the bar top, busy getting her drink refilled. 

“I didn’t know you played keyboard too,” Geralt says.

“Well, I didn’t want to brag.”

Jaskier looks to Ciri, who looks up at him from between her lashes. She chews on her bottom lip, a light blush dusting her cheeks. 

“You must be Cirilla.”

“Ciri.”

Geralt nudges her, and then she extends her hand. 

“Pleased to meet you Ciri. I’ve heard loads about you.”

“You were amazing Jaskier,” she blurts, and then pinches her lips together, like she’s surprised she’s spoken. 

“That’s very kind of you. Would you like to meet the rest of the band?”

“Yes!” She says, her eyes going wide. 

Jaskier gets Priss and Essi from backstage. When Ciri sees Essi she goes bright red. Jaskier hides his smile behind a beer glass. They chat for awhile, and then Jaskier excuses himself to use the bathroom. 

*

Jaskier relieves himself, and is in the middle of washing his hands when he hears a voice behind him.

“I really liked the show,” a man says. He’s got a slender form, is a little shorter than Jaskier, and has black hair cut short around his ears. He’s handsome, and he’s smiling at Jaskier in that certain way where Jaskier knows exactly what he wants. 

“Did you now?” Jaskier dries his hands and leans against the sink. He raises a brow. “Did you have a good view?”

“I have a better view now,” says the man. Jaskier laughs, bites his bottom lip. 

Jaskier allows himself to be pushed into the sink, strong hands pushing into his hips. He smiles, lets the laugh be kissed from him before it can grow full. It’s been a few months since he’s done a random hookup, has missed the thrill of it. He runs his fingers through the man’s hair, sighs against the other’s lips. 

Then the bathroom door opens. 

Jaskier’s eyes fly open. Geralt’s standing there, face expressionless. 

“Shit, sorry.” 

He turns and leaves as quickly as he had come. 

“Oh bollocks,” Jaskier mutters, his hands still wrapped around the stranger’s neck. 

“Do you know him?”

“Yeah.”

“Fuck, are you with him?”

“No, it’s just. I said I’d be on my best behavior. Really sorry. I gotta go,” Jaskier says, slipping past the man and out the bathroom door. How had he forgotten himself so easily?

He finds Geralt at the bar, sitting with Renfri and Ciri, Priss and Essi nearby with drinks in hand. He has his arms crossed, stares across the room. Jaskier’s heart drops into his stomach. He bites at his thumbnail. “Fucking fuck.” 

He walks over to Geralt. “Can I talk to you?” He says softly, pulling at Geralt’s wrist. Geralt sighs. His jaw clenches but he goes with Jaskier. 

He takes Geralt a few feet away, so that the rest of the group, mainly Ciri, can’t hear. 

“I’m really sorry, that was very stupid.”

“Why are you apologizing to me?”

“Because I said I’d be on my best behavior, I’m supposed to be meeting your daughter, not…off kissing strangers.”

“You’re allowed to kiss whoever you want, I’m not in charge of you.”

“I know, I just shouldn’t have, not tonight.”

“It’s fine. Don’t think about it,” Geralt says, already turning away. 

Jaskier shuts his eyes, curses under his breath, and follows Geralt. He wants nothing more than to crawl away, but he doesn’t want to spoil the evening for Ciri. 

After about a half hour, Geralt takes his leave. He wrangles Renfri away from the bar, and when Essi is distracting Ciri, Jaskier puts a hand on Geralt’s shoulder. “I really am sorry Geralt.” 

Geralt wets his bottom lip. He meets Jaskier’s eye. “I’ve known you a month, it’s none of my business. Stop apolgozing.” 

After he leaves, Jaskier does shots with Priss, angry with himself despite what Geralt had said. Possibly because of what Geralt had said.

*

Received 5:46 pm Geralt (horse emoji)(apple emoji): Want to cash that dinner raincheck?

*

Geralt picks Jaskier up a half hour later. 

“Where are we going?” 

“My place. Unlike some people I know how to cook.”

“Come now, don’t be rude, you have years of experience on me.”

“I knew how to cook when I was teenager.”

“Well we can’t all be good at everything.”

Geralt snorts, puts the car in drive.

The drive takes about twenty minutes. Geralt lives outside the city, and when they pull into his driveway Jaskier does his best to not let his jaw drop. It’s so much land, a main house, stables, a barn, and a cottage scattered across several acres. 

“You own all this?”

“With my brothers, yeah. They live in the main house with Vesemir. I take the cottage because I’m the oldest and I say so.” 

“Is Roachie here?”

“Yes, but she’s tucked in for the night. Don’t want to wake her.” 

“Of course.”

They make their way inside the cottage. Jaskier drapes his jacket over the back of the sofa and takes in his surroundings. There are pictures of Ciri hung up, one with Renfri, one with a woman he doesn’t recognize. There’s a photo of Geralt standing outside with four other men, arms wrapped around each other’s shoulders and smiling. 

The cottage is painted in warm colors. There’s a fireplace for winter, and Jaskier’s filthy mind imagines fucking Geralt in front of it. He nearly chokes on his tongue, makes himself think chaste thoughts. 

“I’ve got things for pasta, you’re not allergic to anything are you?”

“Blissfully allergy free,” Jaskier replies. He follows Geralt into the kitchen. 

“Do you like wine?”

“Obviously.”

“Obviously,” Geralt parrots. “White or red?”

“Red please!”

Geralt gets two wine glasses out of a cupboard. Jaskier tries not to think about how this feels rather romantic, drinking wine in a cottage while a very fit man makes you pasta. He feels like he’s in a dirty romance novel. Or rather, he wishes he was in a dirty romance novel. 

Geralt pours them each a glass of wine, then starts mincing garlic, chopping an onion. He’s clever with a knife. Jaskier sips at his very good wine, mesmorised. 

“Can I help at all?”

“You can set the oven to 400.” 

*

The pasta and garlic bread Geralt makes is absurdly delicious. Jaskier almost wishes it wasn’t, so that he could prove to himself that Geralt isn’t actually a perfect human man. After they eat, Geralt pours them more wine. 

“How’d you learn to cook like that?”

“My brothers and I taught each other. Kind of had to. Things weren’t stable until Vesemir got us.”

“Who’s Vesemir?”

“Sorry. Our foster father.”

“Oh you…oh! You’re adopted as well. Is that why you adopted Ciri?”

Geralt’s face does something strange, like there’s a flicker of pain. It’s so brief Jaskier thinks he may have imagined it. “In part.”

“Well I’m happy to be on the receiving end of such a skillset. I can barely boil water. Though in my defense, I was raised by French nannies that did everything for me so I can’t be blamed.”

“Have you ever been to France?”

“Yes, during college. It was fun because I already spoke the language!” Jaskier takes a long drink of wine. “Where are your brothers, by the way?”

“Business conference. I prefer to stay out of that side of things, let them handle. It’s been a quiet week.” 

“It’s good that you’re so close with your family. I hardly speak to mine. Essi and Priss are like my family.”

“Sometimes the family we find is better than those we have by blood.”

“Very true. How did you come by little Ciri, if you’re okay to talk about it?”

Geralt shrugs. “Me and Yen knew we wanted a kid who was a bit older. It’s harder for them to get adopted. Most people want babies.” 

“Is that Ciri’s mother’s name? Yen?”

“Yennefer.”

His eyes wander away from Jaskier’s. “When we brought Ciri home, she was very quiet at first. She didn’t speak for a month. Before she came to us things were…not good for her.”

“Gods, I’d be so afraid, having that precious little thing to take care of.” Jaskier fiddles with his wine glass, makes the burgundy liquid spin. 

“You don’t seem like you’re afraid of anything.”

Jaskier shakes his head. “Please. I’m afraid of everything. All the time.”

Geralt hums. “No. Don’t think so.”

“Don’t think so?” 

“No.”

“What are you talking about? I’m a barely functioning human being!”

“But you bare your soul to strangers constantly. You saw me and decided to be my friend. Just like that. No hesitation. You aren’t afraid of doing something new.”

“I guess when you put it like that. But that’s nothing compared to raising a child.”

“It’s easy when you want it.”

“I can say the same for music, friendship, newness. Dunno, it mostly feels selfish. I just want people to like me,” Jasker admits, and then laughs into his wine glass. 

Geralt keeps refilling his glass, and he has no urge to protest. Jaskier is pretty sure they drink a bottle each. He feels floaty, satisfied in a way he almost never is.

*

Jaskier wakes up on Geralt’s couch with a pounding head. His mouth tastes like something crawled inside it and died. 

“Why is it always wine?” He whimpers to himself. He runs a hand down his face. He needs to see if Geralt has a spare toothbrush. 

He gets up off the couch, stretches his sore back, and then makes his way into the kitchen. He thinks he left his phone in there to charge. 

Sure enough, his phone is charging, placed there next to two dirty wine glasses. 

Received 7:13 am Geralt (horse emoji)(apple emoji): Went out to get breakfast. Coffee’s brewed, the mugs are in the cabinet above the sink. 

“Geralt you treasure,” Jaskier says, and goes to grab himself a mug. 

He patters around the kitchen in bare feet, scrolling his phone his phone and sipping coffee, slowly coming back to life. His head still hurts, but it’s generally considered very rude to rummage through people’s medicine cabinets so he makes himself wait until Geralt gets back. 

After about twenty minutes he hears the front door open. 

“Did you know you make perfect coffee? How did you do this, you must teach me your ways,” Jaskier says, walking out into the living room. 

Except it’s very much not Geralt in the living room. 

It is, possibly, the most beautiful woman he’s ever seen. Her hair is long and dark, framing her face in perfect waves. She wears dark makeup around her eyes, which are so deeply brown they’re near black. She’s also wearing all black, she and Geralt seem to have that aspect of their wardrobes in common. Jaskier thinks he would have fallen in love with her on the spot, except she’s staring at him like she might stick a fork in his shoulder. 

“You’re not Geralt,” she says. 

“Neither are you,” Jaskier retorts. 

“Who are you supposed to be?” 

Jaskier swallows hard, makes himself keep eye contact with the frightening and incredibly sexy woman. 

“I’m Jaskier. Geralt’s…friend. He just went out to get breakfast.”

She narrows her eyes at him. Jaskier feels like he’s being hunted. 

“He better be back soon, I’m here to drop off Ciri, she’s just getting her things from the car.”

“He’ll definitely be here any second. Um. Coffee?” 

“Yeah, actually.”

“Mugs are in the--”

The woman clicks her tongue. “I know where the mugs are.”

Jaskier thinks he knows, but he makes himself ask anyway. “I didn’t catch your name?” He follows her into the kitchen, suddenly embarrassed by his bare feet. She’s wearing four inch heels. She also probably doesn’t have a headache and feel like there’s fur on her tongue. 

“I’m Yennefer.” She pours herself coffee, drinks it black. Just like her heart , Jaskier thinks. “You know, I’m getting really sick of hearing about you day and night.” 

“Excuse me?” Jaskier grips his own mug of coffee, holds it in front of his face for protection.

“Ciri is obsessed with your band. I made her start wearing headphones while she listens. It’s distracting when I’m trying to work.”

“Sorry? I’ll try to be less charming.”

“Mm, cute,” she says, narrowing her eyes again. 

“Do you always let yourself into Geralt’s house and berate his guests?”

“Only if they’re actively making my life more difficult.”

“How is this my fault, I’m just now meeting you?!”

She laughs then, her eyes softening a little. “You feeling okay?”

“Just a teensy weensy headache,” he admits. 

She surveys the kitchen, raises a brow. “Geralt let you have the good wine. Here.” She walks across the room, opens a drawer, pulls out a small white bottle of painkillers. She tosses it to Jaskier. “Shouldn’t suffer if you don’t need to.”

“Thank you, you are a goddess.”

“I know,” she says, and then Ciri is calling from the living room. 

“Mum, I think I forgot my book at yours.”

“I’ll find a download to send you.”

She plops her bags down near the couch, and then notices Jaskier. 

“Jaskier!” 

“Hello dear, how are you this morning?”

“Better now! Where’s Dad?” 

“He’s in his living room, confused as to why your mother dropped you off an hour early.” 

Geralt is carrying a paper bag under his arm, looking only mildly dishevled. How is he not hung over? 

“I texted you,” Yennefer says pointedly, taking a sip of her coffee. 

“What’d you get?” Ciri asks, peaking into the bag. 

“Bagels. Wait until I set it down.” 

“Well, since you’ve returned I guess it’s safe to leave Ciri now,” Yennefer says, meeting Jaskier’s eye. 

“My good lady, I am a complete and utter gentleman, I would protect our little Cirilla with my life. I’d keep her very safe.” 

“I don’t think it’s safe for you to get out of the shower by yourself.”

“Yen,” Geralt says sharply, spreading an array of bagels and cream cheese out onto the kitchen table. 

“Only teasing our new friend. Good to meet you, Julian Alfred Pankratz.” 

“Why do you know my horrible full government sanctioned name?!”

She winks at him, kisses Ciri on the head, and then leaves, her heels clacking all the way out. 

“Sorry,” Geralt mutters. “She’s very protective.” 

“It’s my fault, I wouldn’t stop talking about Too Many Bards.” Ciri spreads strawberry cream cheese across a cinnamon bagel. “Sorry Jaskier.”

“That is not something to be sorry for. Though I am a tad concerned that she apparently has access to everything about me! That’s fun!”

“Don’t worry, Mum only uses her powers for good, not evil.”

“Most of the time,” Geralt says under his breath. 

Jaskier elects to ignore the last comment and instead picks out a bagel. “Thank you for this breakfast, Geralt. I can feel my strength returning as we speak.”

“Did you get drunk last night?”

Geralt sighs. “Ciri that isn’t polite.”

“Yes I did, and it’s all his fault. In fact, how are you fine?”

“I hang out with Renfri, I’ve got a high tolerance.” 

Jaskier selects an everything bagel, plain cream cheese to be safe with his still wobbly hung over stomach. “You’re an old man, you shouldn’t be able to drink as much as me.” 

“So old I know, practically in the grave.”

*

Geralt and Ciri drive Jaskier home so he can make practice with Essi and Priss. His head doesn’t hurt anymore, and Geralt did, in fact, have a spare toothbrush. He’s feeling mostly okay now that it’s nearly noon. As Geralt puts Jazda in park, Ciri leans towards him from the backseat and whispers in his ear. 

“I don’t know Ciri, why don’t you ask him?”

Ciri turns to Jaskier, wide eyed. “I have a roller derby game on Thursday, do you want to come?”

“Wait,” Jaskier says, holding up a finger. “You play roller derby?”

“She likes to go fast and hit things,” Geralt says, while Ciri nods emphatically. 

“That is so fu--so unbelievably cool, Ciri! What time is it, of course I’ll come.” 

“It’s at 4:30. Mum will be there, and Renfri, and are Uncle Lambert and Uncle Eskel coming? Uncle Coen?” 

“I think so,” Geralt says. “I’ll make sure.”

“Are these all your brothers?”

“Yeah. All mine.” 

“A family affair. Oh gods, this will be very interesting. Thank you for inviting me Ciri.” 

“Yeah, you should bring Essi and Priscilla too, if they aren’t busy!”

“I think you like them more than me,” Jaskier teases. Ciri blushes, but laughs all the same. 

*

Received 10:15 am Geralt (horse emoji)(apple emoji): Ciri’s match is at Cintra Roller Rink. Do you need a ride?

Sent 10:18 am: nah, essi’s driving, thank you though! :) 

*

“This is so fun, I’ve never been to a derby match before, have you Priss?”

Priss snorts. “I date women, of course I’ve been to a derby match.”

“Ciri is so little, I can’t imagine her knocking other people down, I’m so excited.” 

“She’s probably a jammer,” Priss replies. 

“So now you’ve met the ex, his kid, and your about to meet his extended family. How are you holding up, Jask?”

“Don’t make it weird, Essi. I’m perfectly fine. Just drive the car.”

*

Jaskier finds Geralt inside. He already has seats, already has a large group with him. They make brief introductions, but Jaskier thinks he’s mixed up which one was Coen and which one was Lambert. He’ll figure it out later. 

As Jaskier takes his seat next to Renfri, Ciri skates up. She’s got knee and elbow pads on, and a gold helmet. The helmet matches her gold glitter skates. The wheels are hot pink. 

“What’s your derby name?” Essi asks. 

“You pick different names?”

“It’s like a performance name. Like how Beyonce is Sasha Fierce.” 

Ciri takes out her mouthguard. “I’m The Lion Cub of Cintra.” She spins, shows them the back of her shirt, with LION CUB spelled out in gold letters. 

“That is so cute!”

“It’s not cute, I’m ferocious, I’m the princess of the jungle!” Ciri insists, but she laughs anyway. 

An announcer comes on the PA system, says the match is about to start. 

“I’ve got to go,” Ciri says. 

“Wait,” Geralt says. He gets up, goes to the edge of the rink. He leans towards Ciri. “Be steady,” he says softly, so soft that Jaskier almost misses it. 

Ciri pops her mouthguard back in, nods at Geralt, determined. Jaskier feels that now familiar pang in his chest at the sight. 

*

It turns out that Ciri is actually a blocker. It must be some way that she distributes her weight, but she takes other, bigger girls out seemingly effortlessly. Jaskier decides he’s a teeny bit afraid of her. She probably got that from her mum. 

Ciri’s team wins, though it’s close. At one point Yennefer starts yelling at a referee, and Geralt has to take her arm and make her sit back down. 

After the match, Ciri skates up to them again. “I won, that means we go out for pizza.”

“Don’t let her lie to you, we always get pizza after a match,” Eskel mutters. 

“Right, you do your stretches. I’ll get the truck ready,” Geralt says. 

“I’ll head to the restaurant, we have a bigger group than usual,” Yennefer says. Everyone begins to get up. Ciri takes a seat in the stands, begins to take off her gear. 

Jaskier stands, goes to sit closer to her. “You were incredible. So tough, so brave!”

“Dad helped train me. He didn’t know how to play or anything, but when I said I wanted to try it he learned all the rules, went to every practice with me.” 

Jaskier really might cry. “He loves you so much.”

“He does. But I don’t think he gets out enough when I’m staying with Mum. That’s why I told him to text you.”

“You told him to text me?” Jaskier asks. He fiddles with one of his rings nervously. 

“Well, yeah. I was borrowing his phone to text Mum, and I saw your name in the new texts. There aren’t that many Jaskiers, so I asked him about you. He said something about deleting your number but I told him he needed to make more friends. I made him show me that he texted you to prove he did it. He’s such an idiot sometimes.” 

“I think your Dad has friends,” Jaskier insists. He decides to not think about Geralt instinctively wanting to delete his number. 

“Sure, he’s got Triss and Renfri, my Mum. But he only hangs out with his exes. Or Roach. I don’t think that’s normal.”

“You are wise beyond your years Ciri,” Jaskier says softly. 

“It’s just that, I think he’s sad a lot. He doesn’t want me to know, but he is. And when he’s with you, he’s always laughing, so it must be good.” She unvelcros one of her elbow pads, completely unaware of the weight of what she’s just said.

Jaskier blinks rapidly, looks away from Ciri for a moment so he can compose himself. 

“Don’t tell him I said that. About him being sad.”

“Of course not, I wouldn’t dream of saying a word. But you promise me something too.”

“What’s that?”

“Don’t tell him that I’m really grateful that you nudged him. I’m really glad I know your Dad. And that I know you.” He winks at her for good measure, just to make her smile. 

*

They get pizza. Essi and Priss leave before the dinner, so Geralt takes Jaskier home. This time he does hug him goodbye, consequences be damned. When he does, Geralt wraps an arm around him as well, solid and strong and terribly warm. 

*

Sent 9:20 pm: what are you up to?

Received 9:23 pm Geralt (horse emoji)(apple emoji): Getting second dinner. Renfri dragged me to a new taco place. 

Sent 9:27 pm: second dinner? what are you, some sort of hobbit??

Received 9:28 pm Geralt (horse emoji)(apple emoji): I don’t know what you’re talking about. 

Sent: 9:30 pm: YOU DON’T KNOW WHAT I’M TALKING ABOUT??? 

Received 9:31 pm Geralt (horse emoji)(apple emoji): I know what a hobbit is, I just haven’t seen those films. 

Sent 9:33 pm: i am shaken to my core. i might be going into cardiac arrest. this is highly unacceptable!!!! you have to come to my house tomorrow and watch it with me, no excuses!!!

Received 9:37 pm Geralt (horse emoji)(apple emoji): Okay. I’ll come by around 6:30. I’ll bring food.

*

Jaskier attempts to clean up his mess of an apartment. He hides a large pile of laundry in the closet, throws a large amount of dirty coffee mugs in the dishwasher, and tries to declutter the living room which has random notebooks full of discarded songs and terrible love letters he’ll never show anyone. 

Received 6:21 pm Geralt (horse emoji)(apple emoji): Outside.

Sent 6:23 pm: here i come!!!

He checks his hair in his bathroom mirror one more time, and then takes the stairs down two at a time. 

“Hello! Fancy seeing you here!”

Geralt does his little half smile. “I picked up Chinese.” 

“Perfect!” 

Jaskier takes the bag of food out of Geralt’s hands, and they make their way back upstairs. 

“I can’t believe you’ve never seen Lord of the Rings! It’s like you live under a rock!” Jaskier says. “You’re very Aragorn. Long hair, mysterious, loves horses.”

“And which one are you like?” Geralt asks as Jaskier unlocks his door. 

“I’m like…if you stacked Merry and Pippin on top of each other.” 

“I’ll keep that in mind.” 

They lay the food out, and Jaskier gathers plates. He piles his high with dumplings, fried rice, and what he assumes is fried tofu. 

“Alright, you uncultured heathen, I present to you one of cinema’s greatest gifts.”

It’s fun to watch Geralt become absolutely mesmorised almost immediately. He eventually finishes his dinner, though he never takes his eyes off the screen. By the time they finish The Fellowship, Geralt is fully leaning his body towards Jaskier’s television, which is much more endearing than it has any right to be. 

“And there’s two more of those!”

“I guess I’ll have to come back to finish,” Geralt says, leaning back against the sofa. 

“You absolutely will, though really you’re welcome anytime.” 

Geralt helps Jaskier clean up the leftovers and used plates. He’s quiet as he does so, a little too careful with how he dries the utensils and puts them in their proper drawers. 

“Thank you for this. I kind of needed it.”

“Yes, of course, glad I could be of assistance.” Jaskier watches him cautiously. 

“I should head out soon.”

“Sure,” Jaskier says, knowing it’s perfectly reasonable for him to leave at this point in the evening. Then, because he can’t help himself, “Are you alright, Geralt?” 

“Yeah. Fine. Work’s just been a bit much lately. Yennefer is going to be gone for a month. She wants to take Ciri along with her.”

“Does Ciri want to go?”

“Yeah. They’ll be in Italy. She wants to see it.”

“That’s a long time to be away from her.”

“It is. But it would be good for her to go, do new things. Yennefer’s good at that.”

“So, about that.”

“What about what?”

“Are you going to tell me what happened with Yennefer or would you like to keep your secrets?”

“It didn’t work out, what’s there to tell?”

“Sure. It’s just that most divorced people that I’ve encountered don’t have keys to each other’s homes, don’t make each other laugh.” Jaskier chooses his next words carefully, knowing it’s very possible that he’s overstepping. “Don’t make each other happy as far as I can tell.”

“Everyone’s different,” Geralt says, immediate. 

“Of course. Sorry, didn’t meant to pry.”

Then, “She wanted more than I could give her.” 

“Oh.” Jaskier looks closely at Geralt. He isn’t meeting Jaskier’s gaze, and his eyes have a bit of a hunted look about then. “Well, if we’re doing this…” 

Jaskier goes to his cupboards, takes down two coffee mugs, and snags the half full bottle of whiskey down from his fridge. He pours them each a couple of fingers worth, slides a mug over to Geralt. 

“Thanks.” Geralt takes a sip, shuts his eyes as he swallows. 

“We really don’t have to but I did wonder and I, I’d like to be someone you can talk to about it, if you ever feel the need.”

Geralt shrugs. “It was so long ago now, and it’s much better this way.”

“I sense a but coming on.” Jaskier takes his own sip of whiskey.

“But I think it was my fault.”

“What happened?”

“It wasn’t one thing. It was a lot of things. I wanted it to be me and her and Ciri. That was all I wanted or needed. My younger years weren’t exactly stable, but what I had with work, and family. It was enough. But Yennefer is…not idle. She wants things from the world, and when she decides she wants something, she’ll do anything to achieve it. She certainly wasn’t going to let me get in her way. I can’t say I blame her.”

“Was it her job?”

“Among other things. I didn’t want to grow with her. I think I bored her.” Geralt finishes his whiskey. Jaskier pours him another round, this time a hair larger. 

“I can’t imagine you boring anyone.”

“It’s alright. We’re better off now.”

Jaskier polishes off his own drink, drums his fingers against the kitchen table. “Do you still love her?” He blurts. He thinks he’ll die if he doesn’t know. 

“Yeah. Yeah, I still love her.” 

Jaskier’s heart clenches like there’s a hook in the center of it. “Maybe if you--”

“I’ll always love her, but not, not like that. ” 

The hook releases itself from Jaskier’s heart. “I know it was for the best but, I am sorry nonetheless.”

“Hope I haven’t turned you off of marriage entirely,” Geralt says, finally meeting Jaskier’s eye again. 

“Oh, psh! I’m never going to get married.” Jaskier waves his hand, as if brushing the idea aside. 

“Why not?” Geralt says, brows pulling together. 

“I can never seem to make anything last long term. I don’t think I’m meant for it.”

“Maybe you just haven’t met the right person yet.”

“Maybe! Look at you, being optimistic. That’s supposed to be my line.”

*

They nearly polish off the bottle of whiskey. Jaskier has never seen Geralt seriously trollied, and now that he is seeing it, he’s very pleased. 

“The thing about horses…is that…they’re real big.”

“Is that so, Geralt?”

“Yes. They’re big dogs, basically. Not everyone gets that.”

Jaskier hides a laugh behind his hand. “But you get that. They are really big though. I’m kind of scared of Roach,” he admits. 

“Don’t be scared. I’ll teach you to ride her.” He reaches behind his head, pulls at his hair band, and lets his long hair fall down and frame his face, lets it fall across his shoulders. Oh hell, he’s tragically beautiful. 

“I don’t think I should do that. She’ll sense my fear, isn’t that a thing?”

“It is, but I’d be there. I can keep her calm.” 

“I’m not agreeing to learn to ride a horse when I’m in my cups,” Jaskier says, wagging a finger in Geralt’s face. “No sir. You won’t be tricking me, I’m not easily tricked.”

“I feel like you’re probably very easy to trick.”

“Rude! Rude man!”

Geralt laughs, rests his hand in his palm. “I need to go to sleep.”

“I’ll make up the sofa.”

*

Geralt falls asleep on the couch, his head resting on his bicep. Jaskier wakes up at four am to pee, and when he walks back to his bed he spends an embarrassing amount of time watching Geralt’s sleeping frame, watching how his face has gone all soft and worry free in slumber.. He’s so lovely like this, and Jaskier rips himself away from the sight, and goes back into his room. 

When he wakes, Geralt is already gone. He has a text from him, saying something about needing to check on Roach. Jaskier tries not to feel too raw about it, but doesn’t fully succeed.

Chapter Text

Sent 12:48 am: geraaaaaalt 

Received 12:55 am Geralt (horse emoji)(apple emoji): Is everything OK?

Sent 12:58 am: oh my gosh i can't believe ur awake!

Received 1:01 am Geralt (horse emoji)(apple emoji): Can't sleep. 

Sent 1:04 am: me neither ill keep u company

Jaskier calls Geralt, possessed by insomnia, white wine, and a weak heart. 

"Hi?" Geralt answers on the third ring. 

"What are you doing, since you can't sleep?" 

"Going over the details of Yen and Ciri's trip. Doing the budget." 

"What a horrible way to be spending a Friday night!" 

"Well what are you doing?" 

"Got home an hour ago, we went to that new club. Novigrad." He doesn't mention the woman he fucked in her car, quick and aggressive. "Tried to sleep, but now I'm all wired!" 

"You should lay down at least." 

"Would you stop being sensible?"

"Make some chamomile, put on rain sounds."

"I've got a better idea. Why don't you come here and drink tea with me?" 

"I don't think so Jask," Geralt says, his voice rough and terribly sexy. "It's pretty late." 

Yeah it is. But you picked up," Jaskier points out. 

"It's a bit of a drive. You'd be asleep before I even got there." 

"No, I won't. Promise. I'll make popcorn and we can watch the next Lord of the Rings." 

"You definitely won't stay awake for all of that." 

"Just come make me tea, sweetheart," Jaskier says, bolder now that he's got a few drinks in him, is still in the haze of a recent fuck, and has known Geralt for a while now, feels less like Geralt will bolt at the drop of a hat. 

Geralt hums. Jaskier can practically see the gears turning. "Fine. Don't fall asleep, or there will be consequences."

"Don't threaten me with a good time. See you soon." 

He hangs up, feeling more satisfied now than he had post orgasm. 

*

Geralt shows up in black sweats, his hair pulled back into a bun. Jaskier lets him in, leads him up the stairs. 

"The popcorn is ready. I don't think I burned it." 

Geralt snorts. 

They walk into Jaskier's apartment. "We can absolutely watch the next hobbit film, but we can also watch literally anything else."

"We won't make it though that movie. Put on something else."

"What should I put on?"

"I don't care." 

"You're no help!" Jaskier says, and flips over to one of the Fast and Furious movies. "Do you always have trouble sleeping?" 

"Do you?" 

"Oh, I ruined my sleep schedule ages ago. I don't wake before ten am most days. The life of an artist." 

"I was thinking about Ciri leaving," Geralt admits. "But I do have trouble sleeping a lot." 

"Are you worried?" 

Geralt wets his bottom lip, keeps staring at the screen. "Ciri'll be fine." 

"But what about you?"

"What about me?"

"Will you be fine?" 

Geralt shrugs. "It'll be the longest I've not seen her since we brought her home."

Jaskier pokes Geralt in the ribs. "I think you'll be fine too. But regardless, I'll be here to distract you! Or at the very least annoy you enough that you're less likely to think about it!" 

Geralt smiles. "You're right." 

"I know I'm right!" 

"You will annoy me enough that I won't be able to worry." 

"Hey! Bad man! Terrible, naughty man!" 

Geralt laughs in full, the low, lovely tone of it sneaking its way under Jaskier’s ribcage. He thinks about what Ciri said. About Geralt laughing more with him. He thinks he's in way over his head. 

"Make me tea, as means of apology." 

*

Geralt makes the tea. They both fall asleep on the sofa. 

*

Geralt leaves around nine, kicks Jaskier awake to tell him he's heading out. 

"I'll see you later," Jaskier says. "Thank you for the tea. When does Ciri leave?" 

"In five days." 

"Wanna get dinner in five days?" 

Geralt nods. "Yeah. I do." 

*

"I'm having dinner with him tonight," Jaskier says, breathing hard, trying to keep up with Essi's pace. Fuck, he hates jogging.

"Where are you going?" 

"He's coming over and making me food." 

"That sounds like a date." 

"It's not a date." 

"He comes over at 2 am, he makes you food, he comes to all your shows. Sounds like he's your boyfriend."

"He isn't my boyfriend. I'm just a sucker." 

"Right you are, babes." She runs faster. Jaskier can't keep up. 

*

Geralt shows up with grocery bags, his hair half down, soft baby hairs falling across his forehead. He's shockingly wearing red today, but he's got a black hoodie over the red t-shirt so Jaskier isn't sure if that counts. 

"What have we got today?" 

"Shrimp tacos," Geralt says. "You mentioned you liked seafood. 

"I do! What can I do to help, I want to help!" 

"Hm, dunno that I trust you with a knife or a hot surface." 

"Oh gods you are the rudest man on the entire earth. I won't lose a finger. I once used a chain saw for an art project! I'm great with dangerous objects. Besides, I'll never learn to cook if you don't show me." 

"You can make the salsa," Geralt decides, and places ingredients and a cutting board in front of Jaskier. 

*

"Darling, these are best tacos I've ever had in my entire life." Jaskier groans, licks sauce from his thumb. 

"You're ridiculous." 

"I think the salsa really brought it together." 

"I'm gonna stab you," Geralt says, lifting the knife off the cutting board.

*

Geralt doesn't stay the night. He's got appointments in the morning.

*

Jaskier makes himself chamomile tea after Geralt leaves. He looks at the dishes in the drying rack that Geralt did, even though Jaskier insisted he stop, since he did the cooking and all. He stares at the towel that Geralt had placed over his shoulder as he'd washed, cleaning Jaskier's apartment like he belonged there. He wants Geralt to belong here. He wants to belong with Geralt too. 

*

Geralt calls him a few days later, asks if he wants to see Roach again. 

"I do want to see Roach. And I want to see you." 

*

Geralt picks him up midmorning. Geralt's little plot of land is just as gorgeous the fourth time around. He secretly wishes he could stay here for a week, just wandering the nearly four acres and writing. He doesn't know how to even ask, wouldn't ask if he knew how. 

Ciri is still gone. Her trip is half over, and Jaskier can see how Geralt is doing his level best to not think about it too much. He hasn't mentioned her often, like he had in the weeks before. 

Jaskier gets out of Jazda and sees Roach outside one of the barns, grazing lazily. There's another speckled horse near her. 

"Who is that now?" 

"That's Fara," a voice that doesn't belong to Geralt says. Jaskier turns. 

Geralt claps the man twice on the back. "Jaskier, you remember Coen?" 

"Of course! So good to see you again." 

"Fara's mine. The goats out there are Eskel's. Lambert's got the little foal named Razor." 

"Geralt, you never told me there were goats!" 

"Because then you never would have left," he says. 

They head over to Roach and Farah. Now that Jaskier has seen Roach a few times, she's less skittish around him. Her ears don't go back, and she lets him pet at her velvety nose. He started braiding her hair the last time, and picks up the task again. 

"Oh Roachie, I have missed you so dearly. I think she's starting to like me." 

"Well, she doesn't hate you," Geralt remarks. 

"You're evil. Show me the goats!" 

There are a total of six goats. Eskel is out feeding them. He's got a bucket of baby carrots, feeding them little pieces at a time. 

"Hi Jaskier," Eskel says, barely looking up from his goats. He's like Geralt; mostly quiet, at least at first. 

"Can I feed them too?" Jaskier asks. Eskel nods, hands him a handful of carrots. Two of the goats immediately flock to him. They eat the carrots but also chew on the hem of Jaskier’s shirt and at his shoelaces. When he's out of carrots they go back to Eskel, but they still let Jaskier pet them and pat at their horns. 

They hang out with the animals for a while. Jaskier gets to know Farah, and Razor. It seems odd to Jaskier, that he's never been so content before. 

*

They head inside. Geralt immediately gets a wine glass out for Jaskier, a beer for himself. 

"Wanna walk around the pond?"

"There's a pond?!" Jaskier asks, clutching the glass of red wine to his chest. 

"Yeah. It was kind of cold to walk around earlier in the year, it'd probably be nice now."

"This place is literally magical. Are you secretly a powerful killer of terrible monsters, savior of all living creatures big and small?”

“No, but I think Yen might actually be a mage.”

“I mean, she might be a witch,” Jaskier says. 

“Don’t be mean,” Geralt says with absolutely no heat in his voice. 

They take their drinks outside and begin to walk around the property. It’s getting later in the evening. The sun is going down, and Jaskier stares into the sun and then into his wine glass. Everything is so beautiful. He doesn’t want to look at him, it’ll hurt too much. 

And then they’re by the the little pond. There’s little ducks sitting on the edge of the water. It’s all a little bit too perfect. 

“When did you buy all this?”

“We started Kaer Morhen Animal Hospital twelve years ago. It definitely wasn’t all of this at first. We got the property…eight years ago. Eskel found it. 

“You were younger than me now. Gods, what it must be like to be competent and ambitious.”

“You are competent and ambitious. You’re an entertainer. Aren’t you always going on about how you’re going to be famous?”

“Yes but I’m not yet.”

“You will be.”

Jaskier laughs. “Yeah. I will be. Oh, how you flatter me.” 

They sit by the pond for a few minutes longer. Jaskier finishes his wine, stares out at the water. 

“Hey Geralt?”

“Yeah?”

“You’re really lovely.”

Geralt leans his shoulder into Jaskier’s. He sips his beer, and hums. Says nothing.

*

Geralt gives Jaskier a plate of leftover lasagna that Coen made. It’s delicious. They watch the second Lord of the Rings movie and Jaskier spends the second half of it staring at his polka dot socks. He falls asleep on Geralt’s couch. When he wakes up he finds a blanket tucked up to his chin.

*

When Jaskier wakes in full, he smells coffee brewing. Geralt’s up, typing away on his laptop. 

Lambert comes through the front door, side eyes Jaskier, and then turns to Geralt. 

“Vesemir needs you at the main house. Something about that dog you looked at on Friday.”

“Right. Jask, I’ll be right back.”

Jaskier nods and goes to get himself a mug of coffee. 

“Coffee?” Jaskier asks Lambert, who is for some reason still hanging around. 

Lambert picks up an apple from Geralt's counter. He takes a large bite, speaks around it, asks, "Are you fucking Geralt?" 

Jaskier sputters into his coffee. He's sure his face is a nice sunburnt pink. "Excuse me?" 

"Simple yes or no question. Are you fucking him?" 

"No, obviously not," Jaskier says. He puts his coffee mug down. 

"Huh, weird." Lambert takes another bite of the apple. 

"Why is that weird? Can't Geralt have friends he doesn't fuck?" 

"Sure he can. He just doesn't usually go to meet up with friends he isn't fucking at two in the morning. Also isn't usually so sharey-feely. What'd you do with him?" 

"I haven't done anything," Jaskier insists. 

"Do you want to fuck him?" 

"I don't feel like there's a correct response to this. I want to be his friend. I care about him." 

"Gross." Lambert shrugs, finishes chewing his bite. "It's just that G is kinda a mess with this sort of shit. So, if you did want to fuck him, he probably wouldn't have noticed." 

"Alright?" Jaskier says, unsure how to proceed. Lambert shrugs again and then heads out the door. 

*

Sent 4:38 pm: geralt it's my birthday in 6 days!!! 

Received 4:40 pm Geralt (horse emoji)(shrimp emoji): Really?

Sent 4:41 pm: yea!!! the big 28 (crown emoji)

Received 4:42 pm Geralt (horse emoji)(shrimp emoji): How are we celebrating?

Sent 4:43 pm: party at essis place! shes got a whole house like a real adult

Received 4:43 pm Geralt (horse emoji)(shrimp emoji): How many people? 

Sent 4:45 pm: idk exactly i think essi said like 60 so far?? 

Received 4:55 pm Geralt (horse emoji)(shrimp emoji): I'll try to stop by. 

*

Jaskier is on his third drink by the time Geralt shows up. 

Geralt is wearing an indigo button up that is hugging his biceps in a delectable manner, and he's holding a gift bag in his right hand, looking very uncomfortable. 

Jaskier is wearing the princess tiara that Priss bought him, as well as tight jeans and a purple crop top. What's the point of a birthday party if you aren't going to look hot? 

"Geralt, you're here!" Jaskier says, leaving his perch on Essi's sofa and bounding over to Geralt. He throws his arms around him. He smells like leather and his mint shampoo. 

"Your crown is crooked," Geralt says. He reaches up and straightens the tiara, glitter flaking off as he touches it. It's going to be stuck in Jaskier’s hair for ages. 

"Thank you, you're my knight in shining grey haired armour." 

"How tipsy are you, princess?" Geralt deadpans. 

"Fairly. You'll have to catch up." 

Geralt looks around the room and quickly becomes a deer in the headlights. "Was actually just stopping by." 

"Don't be such a grump, you have to stay for at least one drink. And cake." 

"One drink, maybe cake." 

"But it's my birthday!" 

"Yeah, and four is a crowd for me." 

"We'll have fun. Pinky promise." Jaskier lifts his hand, presses his pinky finger into the side of Geralt’s. Geralt rolls his eyes but links their pinkies. "That's a good boy," Jaskier says, and doesn't miss the way Geralts cheeks go pink. 

They make their way into Essi's kitchen. Jaskier refreshes his glass of his whiskey sour and he hands Geralt a can of beer. He takes Geralt’s hand in his own and drags him out into the living room to introduce him to whoever he sees first. 

He makes Geralt chat with the ebbing and flowing crowd, people weaving and bobbing in to say hello to Jaskier. He finally takes pity on Geralt after an hour or so, when he's finished his beer and is beginning to look like he's watching a car wreck in real time.

Jaskier leans closer to Geralt, whispers in his ear, "I think I need to open your present now." 

The relief is obvious and immediate. It makes Jaskier laugh. He takes Geralt's hand again and leads him to one of Essi's empty spare bedrooms, gift bag still tucked neatly under Geralt's arm. 

Jaskier closes the door behind them, then goes onto the bed and pats the spot next to him. "You looked like you could use a break." 

"It's just a lot of people. I didn't know it was possible to have that many friends." 

"I'm extremely charming and irresistible so they all just kind of follow me around, you know?" 

"Your parade of ever adoring fans." 

"Precisely!" 

"I'm glad you're having fun though." 

"Birthdays are a big deal Geralt, and should be celebrated to the fullest." 

"Celebrations can look different to different people." 

"Right you are, dear. Let me guess, you like to spend your birthdays alone in a dark room so you can brood at the highest efficiency possible." 

Geralt laughs. "Something like that." 

Jaskier hums. "When's your birthday?"

"Winter."

"Let me guess, capricorn?"

Geralt only narrows his eyes. 

"Summer birthdays are superior, I'm sorry for your loss." 

Geralt rolls his eyes, clears his throat, hands over the gift bag. "Open your present." 

The bag is covered in pink flamingos. He imagines Geralt in the checkout line, holding it out for the cashier to scan. 

Jaskier delicately lifts the red tissue paper out of the bag. He pulls out a plastic box, turns it over, and begins laughing hysterically. 

"Why is this something that exists?!" He says, holding it out and beaming. It's a pez dispenser set. A fucking Lord of the Rings pez dispenser set. There's one that's Sam, Frodo, Legolas, Gandalf, and Aragorn. 

"I wish I knew," Geralt says softly. Jaskier opens the box, takes the tiny pink candies out of the box and unwraps them, starts putting them inside the Aragorn dispenser. 

"This is incredible, I'm never getting over it." He hits the back of the dispenser and plops a piece of candy into his mouth. "Open!" He demands, and Geralt does as he’s told. Jaskier places the candy onto Geralt's pink tongue. The candy matches. 

"There's one more in there," Geralt says, chewing slowly. 

"You got me more than one present?!" 

Geralt shrugs. 

Jaskier dives further into the gift bag, and finds a small box. It's black and cool in his palm. When he opens it, it reveals a pair of guitar picks with dandelions painted on them.

"Oh, Geralt." Jaskier swallows thickly. 

"I know your name isn't actually Jaskier," Geralt says, one of his tiny smiles showing. 

"But it is what everyone calls me." 

"Yeah, it is."

Jaskier chews on the inside of his cheek. He throws his arms around Geralt, hugging him tight. "Geralt, I think you actually like me." 

"Of course I like you, I wouldn't spend time with you if I didn't like you." 

"I know, but sometimes I think people might just be humoring me." 

"I'm not humoring you, Jaskier." Geralt hugs him back. "You know I'm too old for that kind of bullshit." 

That makes Jaskier laugh. He pulls away, smacks at Geralt's chest. 

"Thank you. Really." 

"Don't mention it. I am gonna head out though." 

"Oh fine. At least take a piece of cake home. We can pretend it's for Ciri if you want." 

Geralt nods his agreement. "Alright."

*

Jaskier doesn't fuck anyone, doesn't even try to get laid, even though it's his godsdamned birthday.

*

“You need to tell him you have feelings for him,” Essi says, downing the dregs of her white wine. 

“Says who?”

“Says me, says anyone who wants to not end up heart broken?”

“Oh fuck off,” Jaskier mutters, fiddling with his guitar strings. “Fine. I’ll tell him.”

“Babes, it’s just that you haven’t been this intense about anyone since--”

“Do not say his name!” Jaskier sneers, his desperation booming across the room. 

Essi sighs. “It’s just that, you aren’t being honest with him, not really.” 

“I’ll be honest with him when I’m ready. I can’t help that he’s beautiful and kind, and gentle..and horribly sweet with his daughter. Oh gods, he’s so sweet.”

“Julian, you’re not being realistic.” Essi crosses  her arms, pouts at Jaskier. 

“Don’t call me that, gross!” Jaskier rolls his eyes. 

“This is my serious voice,” Essi says. “You’re being awful. You need to tell him.”

"Tell him what?!" Jaskier blurts, chest heaving.

“That you want to be more than friends, you dick!” 

“Well I can’t do that.” Jaskier throws back the rest of his wine. 

“Why not?”

“Because he’s become a dear friend and I would rather have that than nothing.” He meets Essi’s eye across the room, holds her gaze and clenches his jaw. 

Essi sighs. Her eyes get all big like they always do when she’s worried about him. “What if he wants more too?”

“He doesn’t. I’m too young for him, he didn’t even want to text me in the first place. Plus, you’ve seen his exes. All absurdly beautiful, successful, and are all women might I add.”

“Those are just some of his exes, we don’t know all of them. Besides, sometimes when he looks at you--” she says. She’s clutching at her wine glass, all anxious fingers. 

“Please stop. I mean it. I’m begging you.”

“You’re making yourself miserable, it’s sick.”

Jaskier blinks back hot tears. He isn’t going to cry. Not over a man he isn’t even with. “I’m his friend Essi. You don’t understand. He gets so quiet sometimes and I just wonder. Oh gods, fuck it.” He does begin to cry. He wipes at his eyes with the back of his hand. This is so unbelievably stupid. “I just wonder what happened to him. And I want to take care of him. Oh Melitele, I think I love him. I really really love him.” He puts his head in his hands, presses his palms into his eyes to try to will the tears to stop. 

Essi sets down her wine glass and gets up, goes to Jaskier and wraps her arms around him. “Oh, Julek.”

The childhood nickname that’s reserved only when something colossally terrible has happened. Like when his parents kicked him out, when Aunt Bianka died, when he found out Valdo was cheating on him. He hugs Essi back, grips at her shoulder, hides his face in her hair.

Chapter Text

He knows Essi is right. 

Which is just the worst thing in the whole entire world. 

He tries to imagine himself telling Geralt. He imagines saying I love you in a hundred different voices, and they all sound so wrong and terrible. They will all frighten Geralt to his core. 

Jaskier fiddles with his guitar some more, jotting down terrible lyrics that he’ll never let the world see because they’re all rather pathetic and juvenile. 

*

Geralt calls, which is nice. He’s calling more and more lately. 

“Hello sweetheart,” Jaskier says, “What can I do for you?”

“What are you doing?”

“Pretty much nothing! I’ve put on a terrible cooking competition show. I also am not having a very good time with this song I’ve been fiddling with. Why dear, what are you up to?”

“I thought maybe you’d like to come over. I’ve got steak and potatoes, from Lambert.”

“Are you sure he hasn’t poisoned it?” Jaskier asks, only about halfway serious. 

“Pretty sure it’s safe.”

“Well. It’s Tuesday. I’m not doing anything else. Come get me and I’ll be exceptional company.” 

Geralt huffs out a laugh. He says, “Okay,” and then ends the call. 

Jaskier continues to fiddle with his guitar. He probably loves Geralt so much he could die from it. He keeps playing, doesn’t stop until his fingers hurt and Geralt’s truck pulls up. 

Received 3:56 pm Geralt (horse emoji)(shrimp emoji): I’m outside. Hurry up, princess. 

He’s been calling Jaskier that since his birthday, as a bit. Jaskier pretends he hasn’t jacked off to the thought at least a handful of times. 

Sent 3:58 pm: be right down, my darling!

*

The thing is, he’s always teasing. Just to see what Geralt will do. 

*

Jaskier jumps up into Jazda. Geralt has uncharacteristically got his hair down, which is so fucking pretty Jaskier might have to throw himself out the window once they hit the highway. He sets his bag under his feet. He’s started bringing a bag, because it’s just easier to stay overnight at Geralt’s. They like to drink sometimes, and it’s not like Jaskier can drive anyway. 

“Hi, sweetheart,” Jaskier says. He puts his feet up on the dashboard, which Geralt side eyes.

“Get your filthy feet off my dash.”

“No,” Jaskier says, chewing on a thumbnail. “What’s the evening like?”

“Ciri is at Yen’s. I’ve got nowhere to be tomorrow. Figured you could have a bit of fun.”

“You got the Merlot I like!” Jaskier says, sitting up, finally taking his feet off the dash. 

Geralt says nothing. 

“Did you get the wine you like?”

“I’ve got enough,” Geralt says, which means he has enough Stella in the fridge to keep him occupied. 

“You’re so wonderful,” Jaskier says, meaning it with everything he is. 

*

They settle in. Jaskier with his Merlot, Geralt with his nothing beer. Jaskier ate the steak and potatoes that Geralt had grilled outside while he had watched, flitting around with his wine glass. Now they both smell like smoke. They’re sitting across from each other at the kitchen table. Jaskier is still playing with the stem of his glass, because he’s never stopped fidgeting. Geralt wanted him here just because he wanted him here. Jaskier wants to drown himself in the Merlot. 

It’s absurd that Jaskier has found himself here. He’s Jaskier the Bard, has been steadily making a reputation for himself as a positively excellent performer and an intensely satisfying lover. He’s not a jealous man, and he’s hardly someone who wants to be jealous in the first place. 

And yet. 

How terrible life is.

He isn’t even sure who he’s jealous of. 

Geralt had done the dishes and had teased Jaskier about how he needs a haircut. Jaskier had told him he’s one to talk. He hopes Geralt never cuts his hair. 

He doesn’t want to do this at all. He wants to do this more than anything.

“I actually have something I needed to talk to you about,” Jaskier says. He fiddles even more with the stem of the wine glass. He stares into the burgundy liquid, almost wishes it was blood. 

Geralt’s brows pull together. He tucks a stray hair behind his ear. “What is it?”

Maybe he should have done this at his place. Or after one of his shows, so it would be easier for him to run away, if need be. He guesses he’s really hoping he won’t have to run away.

He makes himself look at Geralt’s face. If he’s going to do this, he’s going to not be a coward about it. 

He looks at his hands one more time. He doesn’t finish his wine before he says “I have feelings for you.” His voice goes very soft and small in a way that it almost never is. “And I love being your friend but it seems like the feelings part is getting in the way of that. So, I was wondering if you had any insight on the matter?” He clears his throat, tries to hear anything other than his own heartbeat. “Thoughts, feelings, concerns?” He tries to joke. It comes out very stilted.

He wants the floor to fall out from under him.

Geralt blinks, then wets his bottom lip. “Jaskier.”

“Yes?” He hasn’t stopped looking at Geralt’s face, even though it’s formed that little crinkle in the middle of his brow. The one that’s there when he’s confused, or sometimes pissed off. 

“I don’t think it’d be a good idea.”

Jaskier twirls one of his rings nervously. He bites at the inside of his cheek, now tries his damndest to avoid Geralt’s gaze. Now he can’t seem to look away. 

“Not a good idea,” Jaskier repeats back. He feels like his mouth is full of ash. 

Geralt sighs. “It’s just, I’m not good for this.”

Jaskier bites his tongue. He wants to laugh, or cry, or both. Not good for this. Like he hasn’t already made Jaskier’s life so much more interesting. Like he hasn’t already broken Jaskier’s heart ten times over, oblivious or not.

“You don’t want that with me, I understand,” Jaskier says, soft and pathetic sounding even to his own ears. It’s always this. Every time. Everyone wants him, until they don’t anymore. Until he’s taken up too much space. Geralt is apparently no exception, despite how badly Jaskier wants him to be.

“I didn’t say that,” Geralt begins, but Jaskier’s heart is in his throat, and he needs to be out of here, away as quickly as possible.

“Didn’t need to,” Jaskier mutters. He’s out of his chair, trying to find his jacket, but his vision is swimming and he trips over his own feet trying to find it. He lands on the damned thing, thankfully, and pulls it around himself.

“Jask, please,” Geralt says, but its weak enough that Jaskier knows he’s just being polite. Jaskier half waves goodbye over his shoulder and then whips out his phone, praying that Essi will pick up.

She does, in fact, pick up. Jaskier sighs in relief, and begins walking down the main road.

“Essi, I need you to come get me,” Jaskier says. “And bring wine, please gods.”

“Where are you, what are you talking about?” Essi says. He can see her getting up off her bed, pulling on a pair of pants, blond hair falling in her eyes.

“I’m near Geralt’s. Walking for now.”

“Why the fuck are you walking?”

Jaskier sighs. “He doesn’t want me, Essi.” As he says it, Jaskier finds his vision swimming again. The cuffs of his jeans are already damp from dew, the stars are perfectly clear out here, away from the city, and all he wants is to be swallowed by the lot of them. No one has ever wanted him for longer than an evening or two, Geralt included. 

*

Essi finds him after about twenty minutes of walking. 

“Julek, get in the car.”

He does as he’s told. He’s so cold. He turns her heat up. 

“Why did I think that would go any different?”

“Because he’s a fucking stupid arsehole to not want you,” Essi says softly. 

“No he’s not. That’s the worst part. He’s so good, Ess.”

She sighs, reaches across the seat and takes his hand. “Good news is, I have buckets of wine.” 

*

“I know what I’m like, Essi,” he says. 

“What are you like then?”

“I’m a lot. Too much for most people. That’s why it never lasts.”

“You are not too much, Jaskier. Do not ever say that to me again.”

*

He stays at Essi’s for a week, wallowing. It’s better than if he were alone and Essi doesn’t make him be productive. She doesn’t call him Julek again though. 

He’s making a grilled cheese on her stovetop when his phone lights up, showing he’s got an incoming call. 

It’s from Geralt. 

His heartbeat immediately ticks up, while he also feels like he might barf into the grilled cheese pan. 

He wants to answer it. He wants to answer and say I’m so sorry I want to pretend I never said a word I’ll still come over and braid your horse’s hair and fall asleep on your couch with you I do love you but you can pretend I don’t if you want. He doesn’t pick up. The call drops after two rings. 

Received 12:14 pm Geralt: Sorry, accidental dial. 

Jaskier takes the plastic spatula in his hand and hits himself on the head with it three times in quick succession. Then he uses it properly to take his sandwich out of the pan. He eats it in five bites, hands greasy. He wonders when Essi will get home. 

*

He goes home. His apartment is so annoyingly quiet.

*

He thinks about deleting all of it. Geralt’s phone number, their texts, shared photos. Maybe he can get Priss to lobotomize him and just have it entirely done with. Why did Ciri have to meddle? Geralt would have just deleted his phone number. Everyone’s hands would be so clean. 

He doesn’t delete any of it.

*

He decides enough is enough after three weeks. He texts Ana, the girl with the warm brown eyes and green hair. He thinks if nothing else, she’ll maybe look at him like she wants him for an hour or two. 

*

Shocking no one, he doesn’t feel better after he fucks Ana. She’d made an excuse to leave almost immediately, which made Jaskier want to go to a bar at eleven am and start drinking, find the first willing party so he could do it all over again. 

*

Priscilla has just shotgunned a beer. She tosses the can behind her, and begins fooling around on the drums, the sound loud and steady enough to make Jaskier’s brain go numb, so at least there’s that. 

Eventually she sets her drumsticks down and joins Jaskier on the couch. 

“Should we go out tonight?”

“What’s the point?” 

“Dunno, might be slightly less pathetic than drinking warm beers in my living room.”

Jaskier grunts out his indifference, sets his guitar aside. He slides off the couch and onto the carpet. He pulls his phone out of his pocket, starts scrolling through the contacts. 

“Maybe I should just text Valdo,” he mutters. 

“Oh my gods, ew! Do not do that.”

Jaskier sighs. “I wouldn’t even have minded all the cheating, he could have fucked other people. He was just so adamant about us being exclusive.”

“Yeah, ‘cause he wanted to control you.”

Jaskier groans. “I know.” 

He continues to scroll through his phone, going over to his texts. He’s still got all the texts from Geralt. Sometimes, like right now, when he’s half drunk and being pathetic he still looks at them. He misses Geralt’s kindness like it’s a lost limb. 

He scrolls past a photo of Ciri and Roach playing at the stables. There’s one of Lambert sopping wet because Coen hosed him down when they were bathing the horses. Just little snippets. He should have kept this. He should’ve kept his mouth shut. 

“What are you looking at?”

“Nothing,” Jaskier says, looking at a photo of Geralt and Ciri both with braids in their hair. 

“Stop doing that. Give me your phone.”

“No,” Jaskier says, petulant. He stares at Geralt’s pretending to be annoyed expression. There’s so much love inside of this man, he shouldn’t be able to walk around living like that, keeping all of it so quiet. 

“I said give it,” Priss says. She snatches the phone out of his hand, and Jaskier is too sad to even try to get it back. She hands him a beer instead. “Just drink it. And get your coat.”

“Why?”

“Because we’re going out. We’ll make your brain go nice and empty.”

There’s only two things that really do that. Sex, and very loud music. 

*

Novigrad is packed. Jaskier is drunk enough to shut his eyes inside the crowd, just moves where the hands guide him. There are so many hands on him. He likes when there’s hands on him. Someone kisses at his jaw, which makes him smile. 

There’s a man who asks if he wants to leave, go back to his place, but Jaskier doesn’t want to leave. He needs the music too. That seems to be okay with the man, because they fuck in the bathroom, the man’s mouth hot on Jaskier’s. It’s good, but not great. He goes home at closing with Priss.

*

“We can’t use any of these lyrics,” says Priss. She’s always so much harsher than Essi.

Jaskier places his notebook over his head. He’s laying on the floor again. “I know.”

*

It’s going to be winter soon. He wonders when Geralt’s birthday is.

*

This is actually worse than when he found out Valdo was cheating on him, he realizes belatedly, sitting on his couch drinking chamomile. When he found out Valdo was cheating on him he was really angry for several weeks and he could still make himself angry about it if he really tried hard but at least anger is a productive emotion. Now he’s just sad, which is something he isn’t very often. He likes being cheerful, so he hasn’t felt like himself in an age. 

He’s never minded before, that he couldn’t make something last long term. He likes to have fun, flit from one person to the next. He’s so irritated that Geralt has been such an exception. He wants to get over it. Maybe it’s because they were never together. Geralt wanted him around just because he liked him. He didn’t seem to want anything from Jaskier, only wanted to give.

And it’s been so long , for Melitele’s sake. He’s bored with being sad. He’s bored of himself. But he was never bored of Geralt. 

*

Jaskier takes a water bottle from the bartender’s hand. She then puts his shot of whiskey in front of him, knowing. 

He slams back half the water in three swallows. He waits until he can breathe again, and then takes the shot too. “Thank you Jess,” he says. “Can I have a round for Priss as well?”

The bartender nods. Jaskier turns to look around the venue, trying to seeing where Essi and Priss may have gone off to. Instead he finds intense dark eyes with dark eyeliner neatly framing them. He knows those eyes. 

Yennefer is standing in front of him with her arms crossed. “Hello, Julian.” 

“Hello, honey. Here to ruin my evening?”

“What did Geralt do?” She asks. 

“Getting right to it then?” Jaskier looks back to Jess. He needs another shot. 

“No use wasting time. Your show was tolerable.”

“Oh, you say the sweetest things.”

Her face softens a miniscule amount. He knows she really is good. Geralt wouldn’t love her otherwise. 

“I’m only here for Ciri.”

Jaskier’s heart clenches. “How is she?”

“Confused as to why her father is even worse than usual.”

He picks up his water bottle, takes another drink from it so that he doesn’t have to answer right away. He wishes it was filled with vodka. 

Eventually, he says,“What does that have to do with me?”

“Geralt feels guilty, he’s got that annoying masochistic way about him. Everything is his fault. But this time I think he actually did do something.”

“Geralt didn’t do anything.”

“I don’t believe you.” Her face is going scary and severe again. 

“Really, Yennefer. He didn’t do anything wrong.”

“But you’re refusing to speak to him.”

“I’m not…refusing?” Jess puts down the shots meant for himself and Priss. He downs them both in quick succession. “I just didn’t think talking to him would exactly help matters. But I’m not refusing . I’m not that much of a dick. Besides, why the hell would he want to talk to me now anyway?”

“Why wouldn’t he want to talk to you?”

“I don’t understand what’s happening right now.”

Yennefer takes a step closer. Jaskier feels like a tiny prey animal. “Julian. What happened with Geralt?”

“Didn’t he tell you?” Jaskier asks desperately. 

“I’m done playing around. Spit it out.” She says it in a way that makes Jaskier know he hasn’t got a choice. 

This is so bloody embarrassing. He’s going to tell the ex-wife of the man he’s hopelessly in love with that said man does not want him. 

“It was my fault! I shouldn’t have said anything. I had a stupid crush on Geralt and he didn’t reciprocate so now I’ve gone and ruined a friendship with a very sweet person because I’m an idiot. I’m sorry if it’s made Ciri upset. I do miss her. I just, you know, it’s sort of awkward.”

“That is not what Geralt told me.” She’s got her teeth bared, like she’s going to eat Jaskier. It would be really hot if the statement didn’t make Jaskier rather concerned. 

“What did he tell you?”

“He told me you ghosted him.”

Jaskier swallows thickly. Perhaps that third shot wasn’t the best idea. “He was probably trying to spare me the embarrassment. Obviously that did not work because this is far worse, so thank you so much for that!”

“What a filthy fucking liar,” Yennefer snarls. “I’m going to skin him.”

“Don’t be angry with him, really, I’m sure he was just trying to do damage control.” 

Where the fuck are Essi and Priss? He doesn’t want to deal with this by himself. 

“Stop defending him. He doesn’t deserve it,” she says. Her face does something funny that Jaskier can’t place. He doesn’t know her well enough. “The show was good. Take care of yourself.”

She must really pity him, if she’s being fucking nice. 

He watches her walk away. He knows that she and Geralt aren’t in love anymore, but he can’t imagine what it would be like to not love him, which is at least half of why Yennefer frightens him so much. 

“Was that Yennefer?” Essi asks, bellying up to the bar. 

“Oh, now you show up? You have atrocious timing.”

“Sorry. Priss’ll be by shortly. What the fuck did she want?”

“I don’t know exactly. She thought Geralt did something to me.”

“I mean, he did,” Essi says. 

“He didn’t do anything wrong, Ess.”

“Yes he did. No one is that thick.” 

“He didn’t do anything wrong,” Jaskier repeats, but he says it soft, and with the crowd he knows Essi doesn’t hear. It’s more for his own benefit.

Chapter Text

Jaskier runs his tongue over his teeth. He’s thinking too hard again, running his conversation with Yennefer over and over in his mind. 

Stop defending him. He doesn’t deserve it. 

Jaskier thinks he deserves everything. But then, he hasn’t known Geralt for over a decade. 

He’s no idea how to deal with it. He can’t think of doing anything else, other than contacting the brute that started all of this. 

Essi glares at him the entire time. She doesn’t want him to start this again. He can’t say he blames her. 

Sent 2:19 pm: how are you?

Received 2:23 pm Geralt: I’m fine. Ciri lost her last derby match. 

Sent 2:29 pm: thats too bad :( she’s still the best player. 

Received 2:32 pm Geralt: She is. Thanks for saying hello. 

Jaskier thinks at least half of his organs are being ripped out. 

Sent 2:35 pm: no problem. be well 

*

Of course, that’s the end of it.

*

He’s spent a lot of long weeks trying to forget Geralt. He’s never had this problem before. 

*

He wants to laugh, wants to find someone who will fuck him and leave proof. There’s a girl who white knuckles his wrist. Her nails are painted pink like a grapefruit. He would probably normally fuck her, but she seems just as miserable as him as he kisses her. 

*

Jaskier is scrolling through social media, head on the armrest of the sofa. His phone pings. He would ignore it, but he sees who it’s from.

Received 8:29 pm Geralt: Are you home?

What the fuck?

Sent 8:33 pm: i am. 

Received 8:35 pm: Will you come outside? I’d like to talk.

Sent 8:36 pm: alright. 

*

Jaskier really doesn’t want to go outside. He thinks if he sees Geralt he might vomit, or scream, or end up crying which is the worst option. He steels himself, and then makes his way outside. He’s an idiot, but he’s not a coward. He’ll hear Geralt out if he has to. Maybe he’ll get some closure.

Geralt’s there with his combat boots and stupid leather jacket, leaning next to his truck. 

“Hi,” Jaskier says, staring at the toes of his shoes. 

Geralt says, “Hi,” back, his hands safely in his pockets, facial expression unreadable.

“What do you want?” Jaskier asks. If he has to experience this, he wants to make it quick, so he can at least go drink wine in peace and not think about Geralt’s rudely attractive face. 

“I wanted to apologize.” 

“What for?” 

“I wasn’t honest with you.”

Jaskier sighs. He makes himself answer, despite only wanting to turn on his heel. “Look. The things we want from each other aren’t mutual. It happens. It’s no hard feelings, but as you can imagine, I don’t really want to interact with you. I’m sorry, it just makes things more difficult.”

“It wasn’t--fuck.”

“I beg your pardon?” Jaskier leans a little closer, trying to figure out Geralt’s motive. 

“It wasn’t a bad idea. I just assumed it would be.”

“That doesn’t really clear up why you’re here.”

Geralt shuts his eyes. His jaw clenches, and there’s that familiar crease between his brow. When he opens his eyes again, it feels like he’s looking right into the raw meat of Jaskier’s heart. 

“I’m terrified of you. I think about you a lot. I just assumed you’d get bored of me too.”

“ Geralt ,” Jaskier says, soft but ardent. 

“But I want to try, if you still want to.”

Jaskier takes a step closer, cautious. “Please tell me this means what I think it means.”

Geralt takes his hands out of his pockets, gently pulls Jaskier close by his wrist. 

“You’re so bright, and warm. I want you all the time.”

“Oh, gods, ” Jaskier whispers. He takes Geralt’s face in his hands. Geralt nods, just the once. 

And then they’re kissing, Geralt’s arm wrapping around his waist. He tangles his fingers in Geralt’s hair. It feels like Geralt is going to devour him, and he wants it. He wants to lose himself entirely. 

After what was probably less than a minute but could have been an hour, Jaskier pulls away. 

“Do you want to come up? I could put the kettle on. I just don’t want you to go, I’ve missed you so much.”

“I do want to come up.” Geralt kisses the top of Jaskier’s head. Then his temple. Then his jawline. Oh Melitele. 

“Alright. Let’s go,” Jaskier forces out. He pulls Geralt close to him, digs his nails into Geralt’s back, fingers rubbing up against the leather.

Geralt hums. Says, “Please,” and then they’re walking up the stairs, Jaskier holding Geralt’s hand so hard that it nearly pinches the entire time. 

*

Jaskier does put the kettle on. He squeezes Geralt’s shoulder when he comes back from the stove. He sits down next to him. “What changed your mind?”

“I wanted to be better for you. Good enough.” 

The words make Jaskier’s breath catch in his throat. He reaches for Geralt’s hand, laces their fingers together. 

“That’s funny,” he says softly. “I definitely don’t think I’m good enough for you. Maybe I’m just horribly selfish.”

Geralt’s fingers twitch in Jaskier’s. He smiles. “You kind of are. I like it. I think I need someone who is.”

“Mm, that’s true. Or else you’d never get anything you wanted.” Jaskier brings their interlaced hands to his lips, kisses Geralt’s knuckles. “I’m so happy you’re here.”

“I didn’t think you’d talk to me.”

“If it was anyone else I might not have.”

“I was so cruel to you,” Geralt says. His eyes flicker away. 

“What are you talking about? I was very upset, but you were never cruel Geralt.”

“But I was. After everything, I made you think I didn’t want you.”

This time Jaskier doesn’t argue. Geralt has a point. 

“You can be afraid, you know. You can show me the soft parts.” 

The kettle begins to shriek and steam. 

*

They drink their tea. Lemon this time. Jaskier hides his toes under Geralt’s thigh, clutching the warm mug to his chest. 

Geralt has his mug on the side table. He’s got his hand wrapped around Jaskier’s ankle. It’s anchoring. Geralt is here. Geralt wants him. 

“Will you stay the night? I promise I mean that in the most innocent way possible. I just want to be near you.”

Geralt smirks across the sofa at him. He raises an eyebrow. “Doesn’t have to be totally innocent.”

“I don’t want to push. I know I push a lot.”

“I like when you push me.”

Jaskier licks his lips, lets out a shaky breath. “Good.” He sips his tea, then sets it on the coffee table. 

He scoots closer, so that the entirety of his legs are draped across Geralt’s lap. He presses his fingers into Geralt’s hair, tugs him close. Geralt leans over to meet him, mouth already open, eager to kiss, eager to slot Jaskier’s bottom lip between his teeth. 

Geralt kisses like he does everything else: thoroughly and with purpose. He cradles the back of Jaskier’s neck in one palm, the other going to his thigh. Jaskier whines a little, because it’s just a handful of kisses but he can feel heat pooling in his belly, can feel himself getting hard. 

When he whines, Geralt smiles against his mouth. He presses Jaskier into the couch, so that he’s flat on his back. Geralt leans across him. He’s heavy against Jaskier, but in a good way. Geralt’s so warm, and his hands are so gentle. Jaskier pushes his legs up a little, so he can wrap them around Geralt’s waist. 

Geralt laughs into the crook of Jaskier’s growing sweaty neck. They’re fully clothed but humping up into each other in a way that should be embarrassing but can’t be because it’s Geralt.   He should feel like a godsdamned teenager, rutting up against Geralt in his fucking jeans but he doesn’t care. 

Jaskier gropes at Geralt backside. He squeezes, feeling the delicious shape of Geralt’s arse through his jeans. Oh gods, he’s going to fucking die. 

Geralt presses closer, his right hand at Jaskier’s hip, fingers digging into skin where his shirt is rucking up over his stomach. Geralt’s sucking a mark onto Jaskier’s neck, at his pulse point. He moans. It goes high pitched. He can’t help it. 

Jaskier rolls his hips, runs his hands over Geralt’s back. The fabric of his shirt is soft. So is his hair. So is his heart. 

Geralt presses himself up on one arm, so he can look at Jaskier. 

“I should probably say.”

Jaskier focuses on catching his breath. He’s still got a leg thrown over Geralt’s hipbone. “What is it?”

“It’s uh. It’s been a while. For me.”

“Oh, that’s alright, I--”

“Not since Yen.”

Jaskier loses his breath again. But that’s been years. Oh, he’s being such an arsehole. 

He lifts his leg, plants his foot on the floor. “And here I am pawing at you, I should have asked. We can slow down, we can--” he begins, but Geralt cuts him off again. 

“I don’t want to slow down. Just wanted you to know. If I spoil it.”

“You could never spoil it. Never. Not you and me.”

“I already almost did.”

“But you came back,” Jaskier says. He pulls Geralt down again, so he can be close, so that his weight will smother Jaskier again. He kisses the side of Geralt’s face. “You won’t ruin it, it’s already so fucking good.” He whispers the last part, because the words frighten him. 

Geralt swallows, adam’s apple bobbing in his throat. Jaskier runs his thumb across it. “I just love touching you,” Jaskier says. “It’s simple.” 

“Okay,” Geralt says. He lowers himself fully, so they’re chest to chest again. He’s so warm, so solid. Jaskier palms at his shoulder blade, begins to draw nonsense patterns against his clothed back, wanting to soothe. He really meant what he told Essi. He just wants to take care. 

Jaskier digs his fingers into Geralt’s back, hard. He gasps when Geralt bites gently at his earlobe, then bites lightly at his collarbone. He noses his way back up, his lips meeting Jaskier’s again. Jaskier’s hips stutter up of their own accord. Gods, he really does feel like a bloody teenager. 

But Geralt kisses so sweet. His hands trail down, fiddle with the hem of Jaskier’s shirt. His fingers run over Jaskier’s ribs. So careful, so soft. Everything he does is this heartbreakingly careful. Jaskier decides he wants to make Geralt lose himself someday. He doesn’t have to be this careful, Jaskier will keep loving him anyway. 

Geralt’s hands are so cautious. His hand goes over Jaskier’s bare ribs to his back, fingers going up his spine. Jaskier can barely breathe. Has he ever wanted like this? He wants to laugh. He’s not even got his clothes off yet. He’s also not ever felt this before. 

Now Jaskier does laugh. They’re all crammed up on the sofa, two grown men over six feet tall. 

“What is it?” Geralt asks, pulling his lips away from Jaskier’s neck. Jaskier plays with his hair, twirls it around one finger. 

“Do you want to move to the bed?” 

Geralt goes pink. He gives Jaskier one of his tiny smiles. “Yeah.”

Jaskier laughs again. “I’m afraid we’re going to fall onto the floor. Though to be honest if we fucked on the floor that would be kind of hot too. Gods, fucking you anywhere would be very hot. But you know, you’re so terribly old I don’t want you to fall and break a hip!” 

Geralt continues to smile, tilts his head, then plants his hands on the backs of Jaskier’s thighs, pulls him down, and then lifts him, so that Geralt is sitting up and Jaskier is fully in his lap. Jaskier lets out a huff, the air leaving him briefly at being manhandled. The back of his neck goes hot. 

“Okay, so maybe you won’t break a hip. Maybe you’re more in shape than I ever have been or ever will be. Oh my gods, carry me to the bed.” 

Geralt smiles, this time with teeth. “You asked for it.” 

Geralt is standing with an armful of Jaskier in a matter of moments. Jaskier wraps his arms around Geralt’s neck, holding on for dear life. 

“Oh, you right bastard. You’re going to kill me.”

“I think you’ll live, princess,” Geralt says, and Jaskier is sure his face is now a shade of purple. He tries to hide the groan that comes after, but he does a piss poor job. 

“Just go to the fucking bedroom,” Jaskier hisses out. If he doesn’t become bratty and demanding he’ll fall apart. 

“I knew you liked that one.” Geralt’s smile is far too smug.

But it works, because Geralt does as he’s told. 

His bedroom is a mess. He’s got a pile of dirty laundry in three different corners. He has a bowl of cereal he forgot to throw out from two days ago on his desk, and a pile of crumpled papers that didn’t make it into the bin. He would normally be self-conscious. Geralt always keeps things so neat. But Geralt doesn’t seem to notice. He sets Jaskier down onto the bed, then follows immediately, kissing at Jaskier’s jaw. 

Jaskier sneaks his hands up the back of Geralt’s shirt. The muscles of his back are so strong. Jaskier digs his fingers into bare skin further, thinks he feels the skin raising and puckering in some places. He wonders after Geralt’s back. 

“Baby, you’re gonna kill me,” he says softly. “Can I see you?”

Geralt pulls away a little. He lifts his shirt over his head, revealing the dusting of chest hair, the obscene biceps, the gorgeous set of abs that Jaskier had initially drooled over. He’s beautiful, of course, but Jaskier already knew that. Jaskier looks at his face. Geralt’s eyes are so big, so honest. 

“Your turn,” Geralt says. His face is a little pink, but he’s smiling. 

Jaskier lifts himself up on his elbows. “I suppose I’ll give the gentleman what he wants.” 

Geralt snorts. “You’re impossible.”

“I know.” 

Jaskier takes off his shirt. Geralt’s eyes go wide. Geralt lifts his hand, runs careful fingers through Jaskier’s chest hair. One of his thumbs trails over a nipple. Jaskier swallows so hard he might be choke on his own tongue. “See something you like?”

“Nah, I’m not interested now,” Geralt deadpans. 

Jaskier chokes out a laugh. “Come here already. You’re a terrible man.” 

Geralt kisses him again. It’s so wonderful. Geralt begins to work at the button and zipper on Jaskier’s jeans. What in the world has he ever done to deserve to be touched like this? 

“Is this alright?” Geralt asks. His hand stills for a moment. 

“Please keep going. I want everything,” he slurs stupidly. He’s so turned on he thinks he could die from it. 

Geralt peels Jaskier’s jeans off, along with his underwear. He’s naked under Geralt’s hands, and he’s never been more pleased. 

Geralt gropes at Jaskier’s backside, squeezes and hums his approval. 

“Your turn,” Jaskier whispers, mocking Geralt’s previous words. 

Geralt kisses Jaskier one more time, then begins to pull his own trousers down. Jaskier helps him along, finding Geralt’s wrist and tugging. Geralt huffs out a laugh, amused by Jaskier’s enthusiasm. 

They’re kissing, it’s lovely, and then Jaskier looks down between them. He giggles at his own curiosity, this beautiful man who…

Oh gods. 

Oh all the gods. 

Jaskier clears his throat. “Geralt, darling?”

“What’s wrong?”

“Absolutely nothing at all. Has anyone ever told you that you’re um. Wildly well endowed?” 

Geralt goes the color of a firetruck. 

“Um,” he says, very eloquent.

Jaskier laughs in full now. “Baby, you’re gorgeous. Unbelievable. I mean that. Gods I mean that.”

They still have their fucking socks on. 

Jaskier peels off his stupid pink and lime green socks. 

Geralt turns to put his feet over the bed and onto the floor, so he can take off his own socks. His back is to Jaskier. He sees the pink and silver grey scars across Geralt’s back. He wants to run his fingers over each one, run his bottom lip down all of them. But he’ll wait. Maybe Geralt’ll tell him. Or he won’t. Jaskier can be good. 

“What do you want?” Jaskier asks Geralt’s back. 

Geralt turns. He smiles at Jaskier over his shoulder. “What about you?”

“You know you could touch me in any way and I’d be beyond pleased.” He tilts his head farther into his bedsheets. 

“I could say the same.” Geralt flops onto his stomach, puts his face close to Jaskier’s. 

“Please tell me. I want to be good for you.” 

Geralt’s eyelashes are so long. “You could fuck me.”

Jaskier blinks at Geralt. “Have you ever done that before?”

Geralt snorts, then falls into a fit of laughter. “No, I want something I’ve never done and have no idea if I would enjoy the first time I fuck you.”

“Alright, how should I know?!” Jaskier defends, but he’s laughing too. “I just wanted to be sure.”

“I’m sure.”

“I adore you.”

“Fuck me, wouldn’t you?” Geralt says, but he says it through a laugh. 

“Ugh, you’re so needy.” Jaskier leans over and kisses him in full. He can feel how badly Geralt wants him, the length of him hot against Jaskier’s thigh. “Let me get something.” Jaskier sits up, gets lube and a condom out of his nightstand. He can’t believe Geralt wants him to fuck him. “How do you want to…?”

“It’d probably be easiest if I got on my stomach,” Geralt says, though his face says otherwise. Maybe he’s thinking about his back. 

“But I want to see you,” Jaskier says. “Will you let me?” 

Geralt looks a little hunted, but he nods. “I want that too.” 

So Jaskier has Geralt lay across the bed on his back. He spends minutes kissing Geralt, rubs the lube over his pointer finger. He bites at Geralt’s neck as a means of distraction while he pushes inside. 

Geralt sounds perfect, like he’s content. 

Jaskier kisses at Geralt’s temple. He works his finger, finds the spot that makes Geralt’s back arch. 

“How are you doing, love?”

“Stop being precious, just get on with it,” Geralt says, but he moans again when Jaskier crooks his finger. Jaskier tries to hide how pleased he is by biting down on his bottom lip. He’s sure it doesn’t work. 

He adds a second finger. 

Geralt’s muffling his moans with the back of his hand and writhing in the sheets by the time Jaskier works a third finger into him. He’s so fucking pretty. 

Jaskier slips the condom on. Geralt leans into his palm and sighs. Jaskier kisses at his face. 

“You’re going to ruin me,” Jaskier says as he pushes inside. 

It’s like relief for the both of them. Jaskier feels like he can finally breathe. 

Geralt’s fingers work up his back. His nails dig into Jaskier’s shoulder blades. He brings them down, harsh for the first time all evening. Jaskier hopes it bleeds when he scratches down. He wants proof. 

Jaskier rolls his hips. Geralt pushes up into it. It’s so good. How can it be so good?

“Geralt?”

“Yeah?”

“You’re perfect.”

Geralt grunts. “Stop it.”

“No. I won’t. Not till you believe it.”

Geralt sighs long and low. Jaskier rolls his hips again, and they both forget what they were about to say. 

*

Jaskier comes to with sweat dripping down his forehead. Geralt is clutching at him, smiling big and true. He’s also got wet eyes. 

“Baby, are you okay?”

Geralt hums. “I’m fine.” Geralt wets his bottom lip. “It’s just been a lot.” 

“How was I?” Jaskier asks, unable not to. 

Geralt meets Jaskier’s eyes. He rolls his. “Like you couldn’t fucking tell.”

Jaskier leans close and kisses at Geralt’s jaw. “I need to be sure. I’ll die if I’m not sure.”

Geralt inhales deeply. Jaskier is still mostly on top of him. He doesn’t want to move. 

“This part is hard for me,” Geralt says. 

“I know. Trust me, I know.”

“I’m happy,” Geralt says simply. 

Jaskier does his best not to cry. 

*

“People don’t usually want me after this part,” Jaskier admits. His voice is raw and unsteady, and he can’t help but shut his eyes fully, afraid of what he’ll see. 

Geralt says, “I do.”

*

Jaskier wakes up to an empty bed. It’s still warm, from where Geralt was sleeping, but he isn’t here. Jaskier tries not to let the bile rise up in his throat. The bed is still warm after all. 

He pulls on sweatpants that are probably still dirty and leaves his bedroom. 

Geralt is still there, in the clothes he was wearing last night. He’s staring into Jaskier's mostly empty fridge. Jaskier smells coffee. 

“Why don’t you have any food?” Geralt says. He shuts the fridge, turns to face Jaskier. “Hey, are you alright?”

 “You’re still here,” Jaskier says stupidly. 

“Of course I’m still here, where should I be?”

Jaskier’s eyes sting. “I’ve no idea.” 

*

Ciri runs through the house, her ponytail whipping over her shoulders when she stops in front of Jaskier. 

“You’re using the guitar picks Dad made!” 

Jaskier stops fiddling with his guitar. “What do you mean he made them? Didn’t they just come like this?”

Ciri shakes her head. “No, he spent hours staring at those, he took me to Mum’s late actually, because he wouldn’t put down his brushes. 

“I’m sorry, are you saying Geralt painted the dandelions onto these?”

“Yeah, he has loads of paintings, but he never lets anyone see them. He’s good though.”

Jaskier brings the guitar pick closer to his face. The little weed flowers are so delicate and detailed, and the guitar pick is already so small. He figured Geralt had a photo printed onto them. He then thinks about how Geralt isn’t very good with the internet. 

“Your father is fascinating, isn’t he?”

*

Jaskier sits down at his keyboard. The crowd is rowdier than usual. He doesn’t know if it’s the incoming holiday season or just the fact that it’s been a fun show. 

“This is a new one, so everyone has to be very nice to me,” Jaskier says into the microphone. He begins to play. Essi smiles at her bass. 

Even When I'm a drunken mess, you don't care. Still like me better than the rest, I swear.

I don't understand it. How you like me when I'm dancing. 

*

“Geralt, when is your birthday?”

“January thirteenth. Why?”

“Knew it.”

“Knew what?”

“You’re a capricorn.”

*

He’s still scared to say it in full. Geralt must know, of course. But he’s still scared to say it.

*

He’s got his lips wrapped around Geralt’s cock. He breathes through his nose. Geralt says his name, plays with his hair all gentle. He takes Geralt deeper. 

*

Geralt’s got his hand on Jaskier’s naked thigh. 

“I love you,” says Geralt. His hand stays steady where it is. 

“I love you, too. I think I loved you when you showed me that photo of baby Roach.”

Geralt smiles, the crinkles around his eyes showing. 

No one has ever said it to Jaskier first. 

*

“What do we think, red shirt or navy?”

Geralt tucks his shirt into his trousers. He shrugs. “It’s Ciri’s birthday, she’s not gonna care what you’re wearing.”

“That isn’t the point. Red or navy?”

“Red.”

“Thank you sweetheart. Now, was that so hard?”

“Yes.”

“Try to be less of a grump. It’s Ciri’s birthday.”

That earns him a laugh. 

“Hey Jask?”

“Yes dear?”

“C’mere.” 

So Jaskier goes, falls into Geralt’s waiting arms. 

“Thank you.”

“What for?” Jaskier untucks himself from where he’s hidden his nose in the crook of Geralt’s neck. 

“Everything.” Then Geralt runs a hand through Jaskier’s hair, making it stick up in a hundred directions. 

“ Geralt! I just put the product in, oh my gods I’m going to destroy you!” He looks in the bedroom mirror, gapes at his own reflection. “Look at my hair, you are a monster!”

Geralt laughs, walks out of the bedroom towards the sound of the party being set up. 

Jaskier fixes his hair in the mirror, his tongue sticking out in concentration. 

When he’s done he looks into his own eyes. His reflection is smiling like a lunatic, smiling without pretending, smiling without thinking about it at all.