Chapter Text
“Rivia Repair, Geralt speaking.”
“Oh thank God you answered. Please tell me you have someone working that’s able to come out today? I’m desperate. I’ll pay double your normal rate- triple, even, if I need to.”
“Woah,” the man on the other end of the line cut through her rambling, “there’s no need for any of that. Can you tell me what the problem is?”
She cast a glance at the little door hanging pathetically from one of its hinges. That hadn’t been the original problem, but her frustration had gotten the better of her, and in her own defense the door had clearly not been at its strongest already.
Yennefer ran an anxious hand through her hair.
God, out of all the shitty things that couldn’t have come at a shittier time-
“Ma’am? Are you still there?”
“Yes!” She rushed to answer him. “Yes! I’m here, please don’t hang up!”
“I’m not going anywhere,” the man promised her, before trying again, “what can I help you with today?”
She led the repairman into her kitchen a mere hour after she’d called him, neither the fact that it was early morning nor Christmas day perturbing him.
“Thank you for coming so quickly, Geralt,” she said, “the timing is just so…”
“I’m sure that didn’t help. An oven is a pretty integral part of hosting Christmas dinner, huh?”
The man put the toolkit he’d been carrying down on the table only after she’d indicated it was alright for him to do so.
He was tall and lean, and despite his simple old work clothes he made for a striking visage. His absurdly light hair stood out, but it was his high cheekbones and near golden eyes that drew pointed attention to his face.
She fiddled with the teatowel she’d picked up to make space for him, uncharacteristically uncertain what to do with her hands. Her own desperation when she’d called his company begging for help had -retrospectively- made her feel more than a little silly, and if he dared bring it up she would either kill him or die of shame, or both in that order.
She cleared her throat, and then quickly redirected his attention, away from her hurry and desperation.
“Oh, I’m not hosting, thankfully, but I definitely still need that oven. Can I make you a coffee or something? Tea?”
“Coffee’d be great, thanks.”
She nodded, and then made quick work of making them each a cup while the repairman got a lay of the land, glancing around her kitchen lit up by the weak sunlight filtering in through her windows.
“I think I can guess where the issue is, but just out of professional courtesy- that’s the one, hm?”
Yennefer nearly winced when she turned to follow his vague hand motion in the direction of her oven door.
When she blinked she could almost see herself behind her eyelids, kicking at the poor oven with every ounce of frustration that’d built up in her when it had refused to obey her right when she needed it most.
Embarrassing, that temper of hers- her mother had told her so a million times before, growing up.
“Yep! That’s the one!” She forced cheer into her voice, doing her best to keep the stress that’d overtaken her life from creeping out and making the whole situation more uncomfortable than having a stranger in her home already inherently was.
“Perfect.”
With a tight smile on her face she left him to get himself situated by her broken appliance as she took her time pouring their coffee, if only to keep busy.
The silence that hung in her kitchen between them was broken only every so often by the clang of the cups or the creak of her cupboards as the repairman put pressure here or there as he started what she assumed to be a preliminary investigation.
Much quicker than she was ready for she finished her own little task, and as soon as she was no longer occupied she found herself uncertain about repair-service etiquette.
Was she supposed to leave the room to give him space and quiet to work? But then what if he needed something?
And, her mind filled in infuriatingly quickly, what if she wanted to watch him work?
Before she could decide against it she was already speaking.
“So…” she looked down at the stranger where he was kneeling on her kitchen floor, “can I do anything to help? I feel bad rushing you out here.”
Not even a beat of hesitation passed before he answered, relieving her mercifully of the chance to start to overthink her question as she otherwise would have.
“Could you hand me that flashlight, please?”
He motioned vaguely behind himself, and she took a gamble on scouring the toolbox he’d brought for the lamp. By the time she turned back to hand it to him he was already shoulder-deep inside of her oven, bent oddly at his middle, and giving her a surprisingly pleasant view of a narrow waist and broad thighs.
“Here,” she warned after a moment of quiet appreciation, and he blindly reached back to take the flashlight, grunting something wordless she assumed was meant to imply thanks.
When no new request came she sat herself at her kitchen table to wrap her cold hands around her coffee cup.
The gentle creaking complaint of her broken oven door as he leaned against it in his attempt to look deeper into the appliance became the background noise for her wandering thoughts for a while, as she stared at her phone with unseeing eyes. Worries about her planning and alternative solutions should he not be able to help her after all flashed in rapid succession through her mind.
It was too late by far to get anything premade delivered, especially on Christmas day. Perhaps she could beg one of her friends to allow her to use their kitchen, but they were all celebrating with family and she’d be damned if she got in the way of that. Not to mention the embarrassment of even having to ask.
Before she could truly spiral, he sat back and straightened up with another wordless grumble, pulling her out of her thoughts and drawing her attention instead back to him.
“Everything alright?”
“Yeah,” he turned to glance at her, “I’m gonna take this door off while I work, it’s getting in the way.”
She nodded, though he probably didn’t need her blessing to do what he deemed necessary. “I’m sure you know best.”
“You’d be surprised how often clients think they know better,” he said, in a joking tone she was sure was underlied by very real exasperation. She could only imagine the idiocy he dealt with on a daily basis, and was glad her own job hardly required her to deal with the general public; she was not made for suffering fools on her best days.
“I know better on many occasions,” she replied, “but I wouldn’t have called you if I thought that to be true in this case.”
“Brilliant choice,” he said, nodding, before pushing himself to his feet.
The smile he sent her was more disarming than it had any right to be, and had it not been for the sight of it she might have thought his words patronizing.
“I’ve been known to make those occasionally.”
The man wiped his hands on his jeans before grabbing his own cup of coffee where she’d left it for him.
“Something tells me ‘occasionally’ means ‘more often than not’, in this particular case.”
There was an easy, graceful confidence to him that intrigued her, and as he leaned back against her kitchen counter with her one, uncharacteristically festive mug in his hand he almost looked like he should be in some holiday commercial; perched next to a Christmas tree wearing some awful sweater, waiting for a gaggle of children to finish picking through their presents, attempting to sell her insurance or maybe convince her to give to charity this holiday season.
Manual labor was definitely nothing to scoff at, and it wasn’t that it didn’t suit him, but something about him screamed that there was more there.
More than spending his holidays fixing unruly ovens and outdated fuse boxes.
“I’m not keeping you from your family on Christmas, am I?”
She regretted the words almost as soon as they left her lips.
The smile on his face slipped for only a split second before he covered it up by bringing his cup to his mouth, though he couldn’t hide the new tension in his shoulders quite as effectively.
He took a sip, and then put the cup back down so he could turn away from her and busy himself with putting the toolbox on the floor in front of her kitchen cabinets, next to the spot he’d been occupying moments before.
“I’m my own boss, so I wouldn’t have been working if I was planning to spend the day with my family.”
His voice was curt but not unfriendly.
“Not a big holidays guy, huh?” She attempted to lighten the mood, as she watched as he bent over to root through the tools.
Simple, worn jeans spanned over a distractingly nice ass, and she allowed her eyes to linger for a moment as she sipped her coffee.
Nothing wrong with admiring the view respectfully.
It wasn’t long before Geralt straightened up when he’d found what he was looking for, or pretending to, at least, and she quickly redirected the direction of her gaze, pretending to be enthralled by a pop-up notification on her phone.
She needn’t have rushed, he didn’t look at her and only settled back on the floor to start fiddling with the remaining hinge on her poor oven door.
“Eh, I like the holidays well enough, but I figured it’s a little depressing to sit home alone on Christmas day.”
Well, ouch.
Yennefer huffed. “Believe me, I’m well aware of my depressing circumstances.”
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to-”
She rolled her eyes at his back.
“I’m only teasing. It’s fine, no offense taken.”
A moment of slightly tense silence stretched between them, until eventually the man cleared his throat. His own perceived insult seemed to make him feel obligated to share, even if she’d reassured him he hadn’t offended her.
“My uh… Most of my family lives out of state, and the custody arrangement dictates that my kid’s spending the holidays with her mother this year, so…”
Oh, well now she felt guilty for even asking.
“That sucks, I’m sorry for bringing it up.”
“It’s too bad, but I’m not heartbroken about it. Everyone’s happy and healthy, and while I miss my daughter she’ll only be gone a few days. It could be much worse.”
He glanced at her over his shoulder, and she found herself inexplicably unable to keep her mouth shut under the weight of his gaze.
“Well, I haven’t spoken to anyone in my family in years, I’m honestly not even sure they’re still alive, if that makes you feel any better.”
For a handful of seconds the silence between them felt tense as the words tumbled down to the floor between them, the shattered mess of them taking a moment to register.
A sense of embarrassment washed over her- she wasn’t big on sharing, especially not with strangers, and this was exactly why. Now things were weird, and she still needed him to do his job.
Then, just as her legs tensed to push her to her feet so she could flee, pretend to be busy, he broke.
His burst of laughter was clearly mostly brought on by surprise, but the sound was pleasant all the same as it filled the sparsely decorated kitchen around them.
“Why on earth would that make me feel better?” He asked after a beat, amusement in his eyes.
Yennefer shrugged, hiding her relief at his mirth behind feigned frustration at having to explain herself further.
“I don’t know, that depends on what kind of person you are! Either you have someone who can kindly empathize on the whole Christmas without a family thing, or you have someone in a comparatively worse situation than you. Pick your poison.”
That just made him laugh again, the sound lingering this time as he turned back to his work with shaking shoulders. An odd surge of pride ran through her.
“Can I pass on the poison and just request a refill of coffee instead?”
Her kitchen filled with easy smalltalk as she got up to pour him another cup, from notable previous holidays to his strangest job calls, and though it felt incredibly stupid she couldn’t help but notice the pointed absence of the gnawing loneliness that had been plaguing her recently at the sight of every pretty Christmas-themed family picture shared on her friends’ social media pages.
When she squatted down next to him to hand him his cup he took advantage of the opportunity to ask her to hand him another of his tools, and she did so without complaint.
His thanks was a little muffled, but already a vast improvement on the wordless grunt he’d given her before.
He shifted his weight, and though he didn’t complain she could almost feel the ache of his position on the linoleum in her own knees.
She didn’t envy him his job in any aspect, however grateful she was that he was willing to perform it.
“So,” she said, and though she wasn’t sure why the sudden wave of empathy had decided to overcome her now she lowered herself to the floor near him, “are there many people with Christmas emergencies you need to see to today, or am I special?”
At the question he turned around to glance at her again. A grin and an eyebrow raised in amusement came over his face as he noticed she’d joined him on the floor, but to her mild relief he didn’t question her.
“Nobody else today, but honestly that’s a bit of a Christmas miracle in itself.”
“Hm, good news for me that you’re not in a hurry I suppose.”
He hummed his agreement. “And you? You’re not hosting, but you’re in a hurry. What’s the rush with the oven today? If you don’t mind my prying, that is.”
“If you think having this regular of a conversation counts as prying I despair for anyone attempting to get to know you.”
He chuckled, and then looked at her pointedly to aim an eyeroll her way.
She grinned, tilting her head back against the cabinet behind her. The watery early afternoon sun was hardly a source of heat, but still the light hitting her face through the window after weeks of gray skies was nice.
“Well excuse me for trying to be professional.”
“We’re already spending the holidays together, Geralt. We may as well drop the pretense of professionalism.”
“Fair enough,” he agreed with a shrug, “hand me that screwdriver by your left knee, will you?”
She leaned forward to do as he asked.
“Thanks. Now, what was the hurry with the oven, then?”
“What, my need to feed myself isn’t a compelling enough reason?”
He grunted as he twisted himself awkwardly in an attempt to reach a difficult corner.
“I can see all the cookbooks, the dried herbs, utensils I don’t even know the name or use of,” he said after a moment, sounding just slightly strained from contorting himself, “I’m sure you could figure out a way to feed yourself without an oven. Besides, take out is a thing. You wouldn’t be this desperate if it was just about your dinner.”
Yennefer pointedly ignored the fact that his gruff voice and the flex of his arms as he worked had any sort of effect on her.
She cleared her throat.
“Fair enough,” she ceded the point to him much more easily than she knew she usually would have. “My friends and I are having our slightly belated Christmas dinner together in two days and I need my oven to prepare the dishes I promised to bring.”
“And they wouldn’t understand if you told them your kitchen broke down on you?”
God, she couldn’t imagine needing to go to them with her head hanging, admitting defeat.
Her apartment falling apart beneath her very feet was the last thing she could add to the long list of her failures she was sure her friends kept. The only one without a partner, not on her way to a wedding or a kid or buying a house. The only one with a job she had to fight tooth and nail to progress in, rather than a nepotism position, generational wealth or a rich boyfriend. The only one without family to spend Christmas with that day.
Admitting that even something as simple as preparing her dishes for dinner was too difficult for her was just too damn much, she’d never be able to face her friends again.
Then again, admitting all of that to him was almost as bad, and even after everything her pride would not let the whole truth slip past her lips.
“They… wouldn’t have had the time to pick up my slack. It wouldn’t have been right to give up without a fight and make it their problem to scramble to feed everyone. Besides, none of them can cook for shit.”
He let out a noncommittal half-chuckle to indicate he’d been listening, and mere moments later he extricated himself from her oven with another quiet grunt.
She watched anxiously as he wiped his hands on his jeans.
“It’s an issue with your selector switch,” he said, “not a very complicated issue, but…”
“But?”
“But, the bad news is that I’m going to need to order a part to fix this, and getting it delivered before the new year would be a miracle.”
“And… the good news?” She tried carefully, despite the defeat rising up her throat like a tide.
“It’s not good news per se, but I may at least have a solution to the very immediate problem of your Christmas cooking.”
“I’ll take anything I can get, I think.”
“You’re free to use my kitchen,” he shrugged easily, as though the answer had been obvious, “I only live a few blocks from here, and God knows I won’t be using it to make any extravagant meals for myself.”
He ran a hand through his light hair, haloed by the weak winter light that had made his hazel eyes shine golden when he’d walked in, and a small part of her wanted to jump at the implied chance to spend more time with him.
This time, luckily, her pride intervened before she made a fool of herself.
She shook her head. “Oh, no, Geralt, as kind as that is, I can't ask that of you.”
“You’re not asking, I’m offering.”
“Why would you offer something like this to a stranger? Don’t get me wrong, but most people wouldn’t just invite someone they hardly know into their homes, especially on a holiday.”
“Maybe most people don’t. The offer still stands though.”
He was very pointedly ignoring her question, and though she was curious she allowed him to get away with it.
For a moment she pretended to consider her options, though really the pressure to find a kitchen to cook for her friends had long since taken the backburner to the opportunity to get to know the handsome repairman better.
“At least let me pay you for it.”
He grinned, looking rather pleased -she assumed- with the fact that she was at least taking his offer seriously.
“No, but I’ll let you make an extra portion of dinner so I don’t have to cook?”
“How about I do you one better,” she countered impulsively, before she could think better of it, “and you come to dinner with me and my friends? You’ll get a full meal and free drinks all night, not to mention the pleasure of my company, in exchange for me using your oven, and-”
She cut herself off, but not quickly enough. He raised an eyebrow at her.
“And?”
“... and nothing, never mind. What do you say?”