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“What do you mean you don’t have a Christmas jumper?!”
“What do you mean, what do I mean?” Radovid said, hiding his smile. Jaskier was looking almost genuinely outraged, doing that thing he did where he made a minor drama out of literally nothing just because he enjoyed it, and Radovid couldn’t help but enjoy it too. “I just don’t have one.”
“I mean, technically we're supposed to wear ugly Christmas jumpers to this party, and it's not like I was expecting you to have a cheap and tacky one, or anything that was actually ugly,” Jaskier was going on.
He himself was wearing a jumper with lots of Father Christmases across the front, and above them, on lurid green, a stave of random music notes. (Perhaps the idea was that the many Father Christmases were meant to be singing?) It was definitely, without a doubt actually ugly, and naturally, Jaskier looked amazingly handsome and appealing in it.
“I was more expecting, you know, something beautiful and classy, like you,” Jaskier said. “Something a nice, dark wine red, with sequins or gold beads on it, or maybe tiny little pearls sewn on... Real ones, obviously… That’s more the kind of thing I was imagining you wearing. And it would hardly have mattered if it wasn’t exactly in the spirit of ugly Christmas jumpers – Yen doesn’t do ugly either, I was just assuming you and her would sit around being elegant together…”
It occurred to Radovid, possibly belatedly, that Jaskier might actually genuinely be a bit disappointed – maybe he should have made the effort to come up with something at least a bit festive to wear for this party. He knew Jaskier had been looking forward to it, and that he loved getting involved, dressing up or fitting into the theme of an event…
“Oh, darling, don’t worry,” Jaskier said, able as usual to tell the way his thoughts were going almost as soon as it happened. “I’m really only joking, it doesn’t matter at all that you don’t have one. In fact…”
His face lit up in a particularly cheeky and delighted way, and Radovid, as always, felt his heart flare up in response – even as he felt somehow certain that he had made a mistake he hadn’t foreseen.
“Yes, this is actually better! I can lend you one of mine instead!”
There it was. Radovid’s heart sank – or might have tried to, at least, if Jaskier hadn’t looked so pleased at the idea (and had Radovid himself not secretly have melted a little at the thought of not just wearing Jaskier’s clothes, but being seen wearing them by everyone he held dear). “I have a whole pile of them, one for each of the last few years…”
Jaskier leaned closer for a brief, lovely kiss and then stood, leaving Radovid still sitting on the sofa, head empty of jumpers and parties and anything else except the way Jaskier kissed him, just for one fuzzy second.
“Why don’t you put the kettle on, love, and I’ll run up and get them,” Jaskier said cheerfully, and disappeared off upstairs.
As requested, Radovid went through to the kitchen and put the kettle on, biting his lip with just the slightest anxiety as he picked two from Jaskier’s mismatched collection of mugs. He had thought he wasn’t worried about this party, but now the day was here, and they’d be going in just a few hours – and Jaskier was really apparently about to dress him up in one of his own Christmas jumpers – he was starting to feel a small fluttering of nerves.
Ciri, whose idea the party had been, was Jaskier’s niece in all but name; Geralt and Yennefer, her parents, who were hosting the party (somewhat against their will) had known Jaskier a lifetime. They were basically his family. There was some jealousy on Radovid’s part, of course – he wished he was a better person than that, but he knew very well he wasn't, and the fact was that it was crystal clear that Jaskier could so easily have ended up with Geralt as his partner, or Yennefer, or (perhaps even more likely) both of them. It was hard not to feel a pang sometimes when he thought about some other world somewhere, one he was weirdly certain existed, where one or the other or all of those things had happened and he himself would never be with, or perhaps even know Jaskier.
Still, he could deal with natural feelings of jealousy about what might have been; what bothered him much more than that was a desperate, anxious longing for the people in Jaskier’s life to approve of him. He knew very well that none of them had taken to him anywhere near as quickly as Jaskier himself had, and while Jaskier really seemed to believe it was just because they were, as he put it, “a truly terrifying little family-slash-gang who want you to think they don't like you and don't want you to like them and definitely don’t want to think about you potentially liking them” – which Radovid didn't doubt was an accurate assessment – he was a hundred percent confident it was also personal. They didn't trust him yet (although they were getting there – there was no way that Radovid would have been invited to what was essentially a big family gathering this time last year) and while that was totally fair, he really, really wanted them to. He needed them to, really, if he was to have the future with Jaskier that he hoped for, but even putting that slightly self-serving reason to the side, he wanted them to. He knew enough of them, and of some of the other people that would be there tonight, like Geralt's brothers, to know that they were good people, and interesting people, and that he really did want to be their friend.
All in all, yes, there were a few reasons to feel nervous at the prospect of spending the evening among the particular set of people who would be at the party, and he wasn't surprised to find himself feeling somewhat tense.
Still, he thought, relaxing a little as he considered his own thoughts and feelings, and then moreso as he heard Jaskier humming as he made his way back downstairs, it was going to be worth it. To spend the time with Jaskier, to get to know Jaskier’s family and friends a bit better – even just the prospect of making Jaskier happy by going along had already made it worth it.
“Here we go!” Jaskier announced as he entered the kitchen. “I didn't bring all of them, just these two, as I thought you'd like them the most.”
“By which you mean hate them the least,” Radovid said, smiling.
“Well, yes,” Jaskier admitted, beaming back at him. “Here, what do you think?”
Radovid continued making the tea, considering each jumper as Jaskier held them up to show him in turn.
The first was painfully bright shades of red and green with a huge gold bow right in the middle and, as Jaskier helpfully turned the thing to display, gold ribbon running right around the back to make you look like a Christmas present.
Radovid made the most diplomatic, neutral little sound he could make himself produce, and was rewarded with Jaskier’s delighted laugh.
“Okay, yeah, I thought you might make a face a bit like that,” he said. “But this one I do think you might actually... alright, not like, but find less horribly offensive?”
He put the green and red monstrosity aside and shook out the other option with a flourish; it was totally different – for one thing, it was one main colour, and a less horrendous one, a pleasant, pale blue. There were uneven but identifiable silver snowflakes embroidered all over it and, in the centre, a fluffy penguin wearing a hat and scarf.
It was tacky, and yes, ugly... But he had to admit, it was also kind of cute.
“That one is far better,” he said immediately, trying to sound serious and resigned but aware from the twinkle in Jaskier's eye that it was obvious he did, kind of, in a very strange way, like it.
“Yes! I knew you would go for this one!” Jaskier said, immediately stepping forward and gesturing for Radovid to take his current jumper (hand knitted, very dark green, very normal) off. When Radovid sighed theatrically and started to do so, he also started attempting to help him, which made it far less efficient but was so wonderfully intimate, in spite of the completely innocent context, that Radovid became slightly flustered, just out of sheer adoration for him and warm, dizzying joy at being close to him.
“There! Perfect!” Jaskier announced, standing back as Radovid pulled at the jumper, trying to get comfy in it, folding Radovid's own jumper and putting it on the side with more care than Radovid had ever seen him treat even the nicest of his own clothes.
“It’s a bit big, of course, but… Honestly, I'm sure you won't believe me or want to hear this, but you look adorable,” Jaskier said. He was so clearly being sincere that actually Radovid did believe it – or did believe Jaskier believed it – and didn't really mind hearing it either.
“I mean, it's not really my colour,” he commented jokingly.
“Now now, just because it's not the best colour on you doesn't mean it doesn't suit you, or that you don't look as utterly gorgeous as ever in it.”
“Flatterer,” Radovid teased, but the truth was that, again, Jaskier was speaking so genuinely – was the kind of person capable of saying such things genuinely – that he felt rather uplifted. God, Jaskier was too good to him – and too good for him.
“Oh, no, you know I mean it,” Jaskier said, catching his eye with a smile and a knowing look that quite quickly turned warm, heated even, and leaning in towards him again.
“I—” Radovid started to reply, and it didn't even matter that he didn't actually know what he was going to say because Jaskier had taken his face in his hands and kissed him, deep and fervent, just like the very first time. And just like the first time, just like always, Radovid reached for him, clutched at him, held on tight, simply incapable of acting like he was remotely calm or collected or any less affected than he was by Jaskier looking at him like that, and then kissing him like that…
Jaskier made a deeply happy noise and smiled against his lips, pushing himself forward further into Radovid's space at the same moment as Radovid did the exact same thing, eager to be closer, eager for more.
“Oh, my darling...” Jaskier murmured into his mouth, and when Radovid pulled back, just for a second, he saw that Jaskier looked just as dazed, as glowingly eager and as intensely happy as he himself felt. It surprised him anew every time he was able to so clearly see the way he made Jaskier feel; it shouldn't, he knew logically, when signs of Jaskier's adoration were everywhere, every day, whenever they were together, but some deep but very present part of him still didn't believe it was possible that Jaskier felt the same and as strongly as he did.
The urge to tell him breathlessly that he loved him struck Radovid possibly harder than it ever had before – and he wanted to give in to it. He wanted to swear to always love him, because he knew without a doubt that he would.
But it wasn't time yet – it was too soon – he didn't want to be too much... Even if it was obvious to Jaskier, and to the entire world, how in love he was (which he thought with varying amounts of certainty at different times that it probably was)… He wasn't ready.
Or, some little traitorous voice inside his head suggested, you're scared because you think he might not be ready.
“I wonder,” he actually said, pretending to think he sounded somewhat calm and suave when what he really sounded was decidedly shaky and turned on, “if you have any ideas about what you'd like to do for the next couple of hours until it's time to leave?”
Jaskier managed to look at Radovid as if he'd never wanted anyone or anything so much in his life but at the same time, also as if he'd heard the words he had thought (not just now but so many, many times) about saying – and as if it was exactly what he'd been hoping to hear.
Soon. Maybe... soon, Radovid thought.
“I have quite a few ideas, actually,” Jaskier said, pulling him closer again. “Shall I tell you a few of them?”
*
In the end, most of what they had actually spent their afternoon together doing was cuddling on the sofa, letting hot drinks go cold and half-watching terrible, terribly entertaining Christmas films – and kissing, there had been a great deal of kissing at almost all times – and Radovid was certain, as he straightened up his (well, Jaskier’s) too-large penguin jumper and put on his coat and wrapped his warmest scarf around his neck and shoulders, that it was the best Christmas Eve he had ever had.
And now they had a party to go to. Radovid was still a bit nervous, when he stopped to consider it for too long – but there was Jaskier, putting on his coat and scarf and a silly, adorable floppy knitted hat beside him, kissing him one last, promising time before they left, taking his hand as soon as the front door was closed behind them – and yes, Radovid was also certain that, however the party ended up going, at the end of the evening he would still think that this year he had had the best Christmas Eve of his life – at least so far.