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At this point, Jaskier was tired, beyond exhausted. While he knew the day’s events would prove to be a wonderful song, he had no energy left in him to scratch down lyrics. Lyrics that, frankly, were foggy in his mind anyway.
Alas, he knew that once he and Geralt got to the bottom of the mountain, the itch for a new adventure, would come again, thus pushing the exhaustion from his body once again. Such was the life of a travelling bard, and a hopeless romantic, he supposed.
And, well. Geralt. That was his dilemma, wasn’t it?
He and Yennefer were unmistakably toxic for each other, yet were drawn to each other, seemingly by something other than a years past Djinn wish. And, while fae blood coursed though his veins, it was difficult to compare to her. She was ferocious, and cunning and powerful . He was charming and handsome, he was keenly aware of that, but Yennefer was on another level completely. Because though some could describe Jaskier as weak, and flighty, and thick, they could never label Yennefer as such. (Some would say, she was on Geralt’s level.)
Geralt, while he had been downright prickly and somewhat cruel when Jaskier had attached himself to the witcher’s side, he had softened over time. It had taken a while, but Jaskier has worked to soften his edges. And certainly after the fiasco that was Cintra, they had much grown closer.
He was less abrasive, and much more talkative—which for Geralt, still wasn’t much, but Jaskier filled the silence enough. They were good. Jaskier was hopelessly pining for the man, but Geralt would regularly admit they were best friends, so yes. They were good.
And then, this dragon hunt. And Yennefer. Once again.
If circumstances were different, he could see the two of them being good friends, maybe even great. They shared similar tastes for the finer things in life, and were cunning in their respective ways. But jealousy, on Jaskier’s part, and superiority, on Yennefer’s part, seemed to get in the way of that for the years the trio had come to know each other.
Their blows had softened from their initial encounter, but the underlying bitterness still somewhat remained.
As it stood now, Yennefer was in her absolutely magicked tent, and Geralt was sitting on a log near a slowly going fire. Jaskier had been spending time with the dwarves, and finally decided that if Geralt and Yennefer had been together, they must have cooled down by now.
“Ah, there you are my friend,” he called as he neared Geralt.
Geralt looked up, smiling slightly as the bard approached. “Jask,” The nickname still fluttered his heart, even though he’d been saying it for years now.
“Where’s the scary witch?” He sat next to his friend.
“Still somewhere she can very much hear you!” Yennefer’s voice muffled voice came from her tent. He saw her silhouette move and warp through the wall.
He grumbled under his breath, but didn’t respond to her. He turned back to Geralt. “Where to after this? We descend tomorrow, correct?”
Geralt nodded, humming. “There may be some contracts to the south. monsters are rampant around this time,”
“WIll she be, ah, accompanying us?”
Geralt snorted. “Yen wouldn’t follow us, especially not if we’ll be sticking to the path,”
Jaskier relaxed, not realized he’d tensed up. “You aren’t,” He paused, unsure of how to phrase it without sounding too intrusive. Yen had proved to be a touchy subject over the years.
“In her tent?” Geralt supplied. Jaskier nodded, flushing a little. “No,”
“Not for lack of trying on my part, bard,” The sorceress pushed past the flaps of the tent with a flourish, joining the men outside.
“Yennefer,” Jaskier nodded minutely in her direction.
She crossed her arms, a smirk playing on her face. “He’s all yours, it seems, bard,”
“At least I use your name,” Jaskier muttered, cutting a half-hearted glare at her.
Geralt elbowed him in the ribs, to which Jaskier hissed at him. Geralt chuckled at the long since familiar gesture. Jaskier sometimes acted like a feral animal, and it amused Geralt to no end. (Until it landed him in one too many bar or back-alley brawls. Then he found it less amusing, and more annoying.)
“And where will you be spending your winter, bard?” Yennefer’s tone was unconcerned, but her gaze always felt piercing.
“Ah, Oxenfurt, most likely. I can teach, if I feel up to it. Otherwise, I have board there, regardless. It’s where I tend to find myself most winters, otherwise occupied with nobles and the like who need performers to keep there homes and castles warm,”
“As well as their beds, knowing you,” Yennefer bit, but it didn’t sound as harsh as it would have a few years ago.
He bared his teeth at her. “Bite me, yen,”
She grinned, not unlike a cunning beast. “You’d enjoy it too much,”
He pulled his collar down ever so slightly, leaning towards her and batting his eyelashes at her. “Only one way to find out,”
Yennefer threw her head back and let out a loud laugh. “Maybe you’re alright, Buttercup,” Jaskier’s stomach fluttered at the nickname, no longer as condescending as it once sounded.
She turned her gaze over to Geralt, a nice flush on her face. “And you Geralt? The old dusty keep, I presume?”
When Jaskier turned his attention to Geralt, he took notice of the sudden shift in his atmosphere over the course of his and Yennefer’s bickering. His brows furrowed as he took in the hard set of the other man’s mouth, the now-present tension in his shoulders.
“As I do every winter,” he answered, short and gruff.
As Jaskier looked over at Yen, he noticed a specific mirth in her eyes; one he still hadn’t decided if it was amused enough to be worth the danger it inevitably brought on. This had been a rather nice night, and he didn’t want to ruin it. Not even for a possibly fun Yennefer orchestrated scheme.
He let out a breath, faking a large yawn as he stood up. “Well, this has been lovely, however Geralt and I should really retire for the night. Early morning, long walks, no portals,” He waved his hand through the air vaguely. “The like. You understand, Yen,”
He watched as she and Geralt held eye contact for another few moments before she rolled her eyes, huffed and looked to Jaskier. “Lesser means of travel for lesser people. I understand,” She shot him a feral, knowing grin. “Until we meet again, Jaskier,” She stood up and with the same flourish she had entered the conversation with, and disappeared once more.
Jaskier breathed out a laugh. “Until we meet again, Yen,”
“You know I don’t want Yennefer, right?”
Geralt made a choked noise in the darkness. They lay side by side in their respective bedrolls, under the stars, off to their own secluded section of the cliff. “ Why —why would you say that?”
“You seemed, distraught, no, upset , after Yen and I’s verbal jousting match. I, I just wanted to let you know I feel nothing for her. She’s attractive, sexy and absolutely terrifying, anyone with eyes is aware of that, of course, but I have no inclination to go after Yen. She’s yours, as much as Yen can be anyone’s, that it,” Geralt snorted and the knot in Jaskier’s chest slowly unfurled. The last thing he wanted was an awkward walk down the mountain because his best friend believed he was pining after the wrong person.
“I wasn’t—” He cleared his throat, pausing to search for the correct words. “I wasn’t upset because you and Yen were flirting,”
Jaskier sat up, crossing his legs to regard the man. It seemed appropriate. “Then what, dear, had you in such a mood so suddenly?”
Geralt closed his eyes, humming. Thinking. “I—the idea off you warming others’ beds during the winters, in some noble’s palace. I...forgive me.” Geralt shook his head, scrambling to backtrack. “I have no say over what you do during your winters. It was, hm, childish of me to act in such a way. You and Yen were having fun,” He went to roll over but Jaskier’s hand on his arm stopped him.
“Perhaps, we could change that, dear?” Jaskier’s voice was soft, hope creeping into it. Please, please tell me i’m reading this correctly.
Geralt frowned, facing Jaskier for the first time since they’d set up for sleep. The war of emotions was plain on his face for Jaskier to observe. He shook his head. “It’s cold and dreary and nothing nearly as lively as Oxenfurt, or a court—”
Jaskier smiled at him softly, squeezing his arm. “You would be there, love. That’s more than enough.” Now or never. He let out a shaky breath. “And, well, that’s more than enough of a reason, darling. You ought to know that. Besides, I can always buy some extra clothes. Oh! If we are travelling South, they tend to have some nice tailors and people who sell heavy cloaks! Actually, Priss used to date—”
Geralt’s hand touching his jaw gently stopped his nervous rambling. His eyelids fluttered as he unconsciously leaned into the touch. Bright yellow eyes caught willowy blue ones, both heartbeats loud in Geralt’s ears.
He leant in slowly, giving Jaskier ample time to lean away, to tell him he’d misunderstood and misread the situation completely. Jaskier eyes fluttered close as Geralt’s lips touched his.
Geralt’s lips were soft, firm and searching. Jaskier gasped quietly into his mouth, melting into the other man. Geralt hummed softly before pulling away.
“Ah, so that’s why you get all grumpy when Yen and I interact,” Jaskier commented.
Geralt snorted. “No, it’s because you both manage to give me pounding headache,”
Jaskier laughed, pressing his laughter into Geralt’s shoulder.
“Prepare to have a headache all winter, love,”
Geralt ducked his head, placing a smiling kiss at the juncture of his neck and shoulder. “I think I’ll survive, Jask,”
As he rummaged around in his pack, he frowned as he felt his hand touch a heavy and soft fabric. Pulling it out, a beautiful mute yellow and deep purple cloak came out. He knew Geralt hadn’t bought it, they’d been together all this time, and hadn’t passed someone who could create such a gorgeous piece of clothing. A small tag lay on the inside, and on it, words embroidered just as neatly as the small flower details on the rest of the cloak. Can’t have you freezing during the winter, Buttercup. A giant smile spread across his face. Purple. Of course she couldn’t keep from putting her staple on it. Pushing it back into his bag for later use, he mused about what he could get or make for Yen in return.