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It was a typical stint.
Jaskier would perform for his employer's lavish guests, woo them with his impeccable performance and take the rest of the evening to meander and perhaps flirt, if he so desired.
Although, if he were to be completely honest, Jaskier hadn't found himself bedded with a beautiful maiden for quite some time now.
It certainly wasn't because he was losing his charm, no. That he had bountiful.
But he wasn't sure what it was. His libido was working perfectly fine, so why could he not bring himself to approach one of the lovely guests that were attending tonight?
"Ah, Jaskier!" A voice called out from within the crowd, and Jaskier could not help but still on instinct. He only relaxed once he realised that the man calling for him was not angry as usual but rather delighted.
Lifting his pleasant gaze, Jaskier let his lips curl into his usual fetching smile as he caught sight of the duke responsible for the current engagement. "What a lively party, my grace!"
Nodding in agreement, the older man paused, taking Jaskier's hand into both of his own and giving it an amiable shake. "It is, isn't it?"
"Quite so - and, rest assured, I know just how to keep these spirits high." Jaskier politely tugged his hand back and his long fingers brushed over the coarse fabric of his lute's strap, situated across his shoulder. "I have plenty tunes to last 'til the early morrow."
Visibly pleased by this, the duke laughed heartily and gave Jaskier a rather hard slap on the arm - in good nature, Jaskier was mostly certain of that - before glancing to Jaskier's side curiously.
"And your witcher?" The duke inquired, bushy brows furrowing as his gaze shifted back to the impassive bard, "I was hoping he would be joining us here tonight."
Where one may have grown jealous of being constantly overshadowed by their brutish companion, Jaskier only felt a swell of pride within his chest, standing straighter as his smile softened into something more genuine.
He was proud of Geralt, really - and himself. It was wonderful to know the epics he sung of were echoed far and wide. It was a mutual recognition, Jaskier liked to think of it as (even if Geralt protested the association).
Laying a hand over his chest in sympathy, Jaskier shook his head, "Geralt will be here shortly, so please cease your fretting, my grace." He reassured, patting the duke's shoulder soothingly as he scoured the crowd once again. "Look! There's our white wolf!"
The bustling crowd of socialites parted to make way for Geralt as he lumbered through, heavy black boots stomping against the linoleum flooring as he moved towards Jaskier.
Grasping Geralt's arm, Jaskier pulled him closer - only chuckling carelessly when Geralt's chest rumbled with a growl demanding caution - and gestured towards the witcher with a flourish of his hand.
Jaskier began, "Geralt, this is -"
"It is an honour to finally meet the great White Wolf!" The duke interrupted, holding out an expectant hand for Geralt to shake. He lowered it only when certain Geralt wasn't going to take it. Jaskier internally scowled but kept a pleasant facade, despite the tightening of his hand upon Geralt's arm. "I've heard the tales. It's great to finally put a face to the name."
And Geralt merely nodded, his hardened expression remaining apathetic. "Hm." He glanced away, yanking his arm free of Jaskier's grasp, much to the bard's startling disappointment.
Clearing his throat, Jaskier began to usher the duke away and back towards his guests. "Now, now, you mustn't keep your guests waiting. Just leave the entertainment to me, my grace."
Watching the reluctant duke scurry away - now terribly sheepish - Jaskier whirled on his feet, facing Geralt with a cocked brow. Geralt mirrored him, raising a sardonic brow as though in challenge.
After a few tense beats, Jaskier allowed his shoulders to fall and he brushed a hand down his own brightly coloured doublet. "You mustn't be so anti-social, Geralt." Jaskier sighed, sizing the witcher up. "Really... you'll risk sullying our reputation."
Geralt huffed quietly through his nose, though Jaskier knew it was the witcher showcasing his amusement. "Our reputation?" He echoed, a dry inquiry.
"Yes." Jaskier scolded lightly, exasperated, and lowered his voice to continue the conversation only between them. "So, it would do you good to loosen up for the evening."
There was a darkening of Geralt's handsomely rugged countenance as he scowled, taking the offered tankard almost over spilling with ale from a pleading Jaskier.
Broad shoulders slumped in defeat, and Geralt raised his arm, taking a purposeful sip of his drink. "I'll stay here." Geralt grumbled instead, leaning back against the towering pillar behind him. "Try not to get into any trouble. You can save your own arse this time."
Chuckling - the sound just a tad strained - Jaskier nudged Geralt, his hands moving to rest atop his own hips as he suddenly let out a melodramatic sigh, now solemn. "You of all... witchers know of my dry spell, Geralt." He reminded, choosing to ignore Geralt's ever judgemental stare.
"No potential suitors tonight?" Geralt wondered aloud into his tankard as he took another sip, and it was only a slightly sarcastic remark - progress!
Shaking his head, Jaskier ignored that his mind immediately conjured an image of the witcher stood before him at the mention of a suitor. "None as far as I can see." His tone retained its sombreness, clenching a fist atop his chest as though trying to grasp hold of his aching heart. "I have yet to shudder in wake of an amorous spark with one of the lovely ladies attending tonight."
There were a few terribly tense beats before Geralt let out a significantly quieter, "Hm." He raised a bushy brow and his piercingly golden eyes roved over Jaskier's form, causing the bard to fluster under the unexpected attention. "Who knows? Maybe I'll find myself lucky tonight, instead of you."
It was spoken in a sardonic manner - as most things were from Geralt's lips - although Jaskier felt the strangest tightening within his chest. He shifted uncomfortably, brows furrowing as he fell silent for a few moments, struggling to find words that so often came to him with ease.
"Oh." Jaskier cleared his throat - shite, it had gotten awkward quickly between the two of them - and tried for an easygoing smile, though it was more a grimace at first before he managed to ease it. "Well... perhaps. If you'd cease your brooding, maybe someone would muster the courage to engage in conversation with you."
The words clogged within the confines of his throat. It was worrying how quickly it was becoming dry - he needed his precious voice for the array of ballads and songs he'd be wooing the guests with in only a short while.
Jaskier was unsure why he was acting so strangely. Perhaps nerves; it was a rowdy crowd tonight, after all.
Waving his hand dismissively, Jaskier focused his attention back upon the conversation at hand, even if he felt like he'd rather gouge his own eyes from his head.
"I doubt you'd find interest in anyone here tonight, anyway." Jaskier insisted, albeit defensively.
"Why not?" Geralt pressed, seeming to notice the shift in his best friend's tone and attitude.
Wrinkling his nose, Jaskier faltered, mind blanking as he considered the question. "Well... they're all a bit too stuck-up for you, I reckon."
The retort was almost instant, "I'm talking with you, aren't I?"
Heaving a heavy roll of his eyes, Jaskier tried not to look as offended as he felt. "Very clever, Geralt." He drawled, unimpressed, before his lips curved upward in a grin. "See? Now you only need to put that comedic talent of yours to use with a few of the guests."
Laying a hand atop Geralt's shoulder, he attempted to push him forward in the direction of the guests, though the witcher did not budge.
"Perhaps you'll end the night with a few more allies." Jaskier attempted to entice, even though the words left a peculiarly sour taste inside of his mouth.
Snorting, Geralt turned his focus back to his tankard, treating Jaskier as though he was nothing but a gust of wind. "Or enemies."
Giving up, Jaskier dropped his hand, a pleasant warmth startling him as it brushed against Geralt's. "Yes, well, keep that optimism up!" He encouraged.
Really, there was no winning with Geralt. The man could be as stubborn as a mule at times. Jaskier sighed, fondly, and swung his lute from where it was settled against his back so that it was in his arms, giving its sleek strings a gentle strum.
Satisfied, Jaskier began to step back, away from Geralt who was as impassive as ever. "Now, the crowd is calling for me - wish me luck!"
"Don't break a leg up there." Geralt called to him as Jaskier sauntered away.
The bard shook his head, glancing back over his shoulder. "No, it's 'break a -'" he cut himself off with a yelp as he stumbled over his own feet, hurrying to catch his steps as he walked away, cheeks reddening in embarrassment as he felt Geralt's smile on his back.
____
As per usual, the guests were lively in wake of his melodies - Jaskier was delighted that they even knew of his own songs. His earlier sour mood was lost to the plucking of strings and enthusiastic uproar of the crowd demanding an encore.
"I must take a brief leave, though I will be back soon!" Jaskier assured the crowd, leaving his beloved lute with one of the band members as they continued their cheery instrumental.
He hurried from the stage, wiping a hand over his sweaty forehead as his bright gaze traversed the crowd. Jaskier finally caught a flash of white hair amongst the sea of people and weaved between bodies, eager to rendezvous with Geralt.
Although, upon arriving at the bar, Jaskier was surprised to see Geralt was currently in company with another - a woman, with ashen curls and a gorgeous, rounded face - who was leaning awfully close towards him.
Squinting, Jaskier watched as Geralt actually smiled - one of those tender ones, reserved only for himself and Roach, or so Jaskier had believed (oh, he would absolutely be informing the mare of this) - and how his typically hardened eyes crinkled at the corners.
Laughter was shared amongst the two before Geralt's gaze flickered towards him. His lips smoothed out into his trademark frown and a few more words were exchanged. Assumedly about Jaskier's arrival, as the woman was quick to disappear into the crowd, offering a bright smile to Jaskier as she passed by him.
Attempting to quell the bitter frustration welling up within him, Jaskier gritted his teeth and stomped towards Geralt, taking his place beside his witcher.
Leaning his hip against the oaken counter, Jaskier quirked a brow, squinting at Geralt. Looking at Geralt vaguely confused expression only made the pressure squeezing around his heart tighten.
"Who was that, Geralt?" Jaskier inquired, calmly - well, it would have been, if not for his grating tone and very strained smile - with a bit so subtle glance in the direction where the woman had departed. "Someone you know? An old flame, perhaps?"
As expected, Geralt only snorted, giving a slight shake of his head. "Nobody that you need to concern yourself with." He rumbled, in that slightly awkward way Geralt spoke when trying to soothe Jaskier. It would usually work, but Jaskier swore that he didn't need soothing!
Lips opening and closing a few times, Jaskier was certain he looked as exasperated as he felt. The cheek of his witcher. "Ohhoho, we're going to be like that, are we?"
Scowling, Jaskier grabbed Geralt's tankard from the bar, tipping his head back as he took a long, almost painful, swig. He set it back down with a thunk, wiping his mouth on his sleeve.
Geralt just stared, as deadpan as ever.
It only further irked Jaskier. "Alright." He raised his hands in surrender, still bitter (though, he wasn't certain why - Jaskier just couldn't stand looking at Geralt as he flirted around the town, despite the hypocrisy of it). "Alright. Fine. Keep your... your other friends to yourself." Jaskier huffed, stubbornly indignant. "You needn't trouble anyone with fickle introductions."
Glancing down at his tarnished drink, Geralt grunted again, "Hm." He then focused his amber gaze upon Jaskier, startling the bard with how utterly soft his gaze was for a few brief moments. He looked to be contemplating on what to say, before eventually settling for, "Are you finished?"
Clearing his throat, Jaskier brushed a hand down his doublet, hoping that the flush adorning his clean-shaven cheeks could pass off as a result of the alcohol.
"Almost, my dear witcher." Jaskier reassured, though he wasn't fond of the idea of leaving Geralt by his lonesome once again, for another lonely soul to chat up the witcher. "Just a few more songs, then we shall take our leave."
With that, Jaskier patted Geralt's wonderfully thick bicep, giving it a slight squeeze before hurrying off.
Even through the crowd's bustle, Jaskier could feel the reverberation as Geralt responded with his signature, "Hmm."
____
Despite his best efforts, Jaskier found himself unable to concentrate throughout the rest of his performance. And that fact certainly made itself apparent in the way in which he stumbled over a few lines, missed a number of cues and failed to create a performance enjoyable to the eyes.
It must have looked strange to see the bard's attention drift off to the bar every few minutes. But Jaskier was worried that he'd glance over too late and see Geralt being whisked away from him - from the bar, he meant.
And Jaskier's worried glances were not in vain. He had only briefly glanced away to check on the band accompanying him, and gazing back he found himself faced with the dreadful sight of Geralt being flanked and swooned over by a number of ladies and gentlemen.
Eye giving an irritated twitch, Jaskier found that his mind became utterly blank and his fingers stilled in their strumming. The band's instrumental tapered off soon after, confusion evident in the halting of their tune.
Silence swept over the hall, capturing the attention of the guests - Geralt included - followed soon after by rippling murmurs and calls of complaint.
But it hardly mattered to Jaskier. Or, well, it hadn't mattered until he startled from his brief reverie and realised what a fool he'd made of himself; his reputation!
Panicked, Jaskier attempted to conjure a witty comment, stepping forward but accidentally tripping on his own feet. He cried out as he fell from the stage, knowing that he would never live this moment down.
Although, instead of being met with the hard, cobbled floor, Jaskier found himself cradled betwixt strong arms, his current position akin to that of a bride being carried.
His long legs swung before him as he squirmed, and he cradled his beloved lute to his chest, relief flushing through him at the knowledge his instrument was safe.
"You're more of a mess tonight than you usually are, Jaskier." Came Geralt's rumbling scolding from above Jaskier. The proximity made the Witcher's chest vibrate against Jaskier's form as he rumbled out his words, and it had Jaskier suppressing a delighted shudder. "Falling from the stage? That's unlike you."
Despite the apathetic tone, as Jaskier glanced up, he could make out the faint crinkling of concern in the corner of Geralt's eyes, a soft orange glow underneath the flickering candlelight of the chandelier above them.
"Yes, well..." His silver tongue twisted in his mouth and Jaskier's cheeks grew flush in embarrassment of his fumbling. There wasn't much thought behind his following actions.
In a brief moment in which Jaskier was so overwhelmed by his feelings, the bard fisted a free hand into the collar of Geralt's shirt and pulled himself closer to the witcher.
Their lips collided in a kiss that was neither romantic nor lustful - Jaskier could have passed it off as an accident if he hadn't gone in with so much passion. But Jaskier felt Geralt leaning closer into the hurried, awkward embrace, not moving his own lips but reciprocating the touch.
As they pulled back from one another, Jaskier and Geralt locked eyes. Geralt's hardened expression melded into something gentle and he stared at Jaskier as though the bard had hung the stars and the moon himself. Similar to the expression that had adorned his gruff features earlier, when he was talking to that woman.
Oh. Oh.
Well, now Jaskier felt terribly silly.
With a soft huff, Geralt's arms disappeared from where they had been supporting Jaskier, causing the bard to drop to the floor. Ah, well, at least the drop was less fatal than that of the stage.
He landed with a grunt, rubbing at his lower back with a splayed hand, his other hand still wrapped taut around his lute. Jaskier didn't startle when Geralt's large hand encircled his bicep, hauling Jaskier to his feet.
Sliding his scarred hand into Jaskier's cleaner one, Geralt entwined his calloused fingers with Jaskier's own long fingers and squeezed. A tad too taut, but Jaskier was far too happy with the situation to bother complaining about the uncomfortable grasp.
"Let's find someplace quieter." Mumbled Geralt under his breath, beginning to tug Jaskier away, who eagerly trailed alongside his witcher.
Jaskier glanced over his shoulder, flashing a cocky smirk to the bachelors and bachelorettes who'd actually assisted him more than they had inconvenienced him.
A 'thanks' may have been in order, but Jaskier could hardly focus on that when he was being dragged off by his big brooding witcher.
And so Jaskier ignored them in favour of appeasing Geralt's impatience.
"I know of a place we could go to spend a night in one another's embrace, my dear."
"Then hurry up, bard."