Archive of Our Own

Jaskier hadn't put 'christmas elf' on his career wish list when he was a child but as his best friend said 'a gig's a gig' and this one would keep him in rent and ramen until February if he was smart about it.

And the costume made his ass look fantastic.

There was only one drawback. His ex was playing Santa. Valdo Marx had not gotten any less irritating in the six months since they broke up and he was taking his role much too seriously, acting as if he was Jaskier's actual boss and not just another underemployed art school graduate.

"Jaskier! I have amazing news," Priscilla sang, running up to the Santa's Village stand. "You'll never guess."

"What is it? Wait, do I get a guess?"

Priscilla wrinkled her brow at him. It was very unflattering but he valued his life too much to mention it.

"Okay... Valdo fell down a sewer grate and disappeared into some sort of alternate universe so we get the day off while they find a new Santa."

"Well," Priscilla murmured, barely biting back a grin. "You're half right?"

Jaskier shook his head. "In the cold and sober light of day I refuse to believe in alternate universes."

"That's not what I meant," Pris said, "Though I got some salvia so we can revisit this conversation later." She waved her hands in front of her face, the light bells on her sleeve jingling madly. "Anyway, no. Valdo is out!"

"Out, how," Jaskier said. 

"Apparently he got very very drunk after his shift yesterday and tripped over a dog."

"Oh no," Jaskier said softly. The poor dog.

"No, no," Pris said quickly. "The dog was fine. But Valdo broke his arm so he can't play Santa."

"So we do get a day off." Jaskier hummed, already running through errands in his head.

"Well, not so fast I'm afraid."

"What are you talking about," Jaskier said, before being hit in the face with a bundle of blood red velvet.

Jaskier caught the bundle and held it up in front of him. Yards of sumptuous fabric trimmed with brass buckles and white faux fur.

He looked at his friend with a dawning horror. "Pris, no."

In a vermilion whirl Jaskier found himself perched on a golden throne, a crowd of frantic worshippers at his feet. He had to admit this did resemble his most fervent rock star fantasies... 

"I WANNA DANCING ELMO!"

But not really.

By the end of his shift Jaskier had decided all children could be sorted into two categories, 'talks too much' which Jaskier was familiar with as he had been that type of child himself and 'doesn't talk at all' which were difficult in their own way, Jaskier having to cajole a mumbled Christmas wish that he hoped their parents would understand.

"You're pretty good with them," Pris said as they walked out of the mall.

Jaskier laughed. "You sound surprised."

Pris smacked the side of his arm. "Maybe I am," she said. "I suppose I shouldn't be though. You're all at the same maturity level."

Jaskier squawked and turned to Pris who immediately ran ahead, her laughter pealing out across the parking lot.

An hour later Jaskier let himself into his apartment building. There was a head ache ghosting behind his eyes and he wanted a shower more than his next breath.

Children were... sticky.

He shouldered his bag a little higher and headed for the elevator. Just a few minutes longer...

Jaskier was taken aback to see Geralt standing in front of his door.

The man had moved in a few months previous. Tall and blond and hot, Jaskier had noted the new addition to their building and made sure to show up as a one-man welcoming committee available for... well, anything Geralt might need.

Finding out the man had moved in with his extremely adorable daughter had forced Jaskier to alter his plans but he felt like things worked out better all told. Geralt had gone from a quick conquest to someone Jaskier thought he might one day be able to call a true friend, more than most of the classmates and coworkers that surrounded him. 

And that... that was something Jaskier hadn't known he needed.

"Didn't expect to see you here," Jaskier said as he walked up to his apartment. "Unless -- is that washer giving you a hard time again? I told you to use the one on the left. Let me get my screwdriver. We can at least get your money back."

Geralt held up his hands. They were good hands, strong and broad, lined with calluses and marks from hard work. 

"No," he said. "It's-- I avoided the broken machine. I wanted-- Yen has Ciri tonight and-- Have you had dinner?"

Jaskier shook his head, adjusting his bag again.

"I'm testing out recipes for Christmas and I need someone to tell me how they are."

Jaskier honestly considered it, but, "I'm not sure, Geralt. I'd like to but I just got off work and I'm beat. I wouldn't be very good company."

Geralt nodded. "Okay. No problem." He took a step back. "I'll talk to you later. Have a good evening."

Jaskier watched Geralt turn and walk away. 

Jaskier thought for a moment of calling him back but it truly had been a long day and as much as Jaskier usually loved company he really was tired. Maybe another night.

He set his bag on the chair by the door and kicked his boots off towards the wall. A hot shower was calling his name.

An hour later he was less sticky but still exhausted. He hadn't even bothered to open the fridge. He knew what was in there and none of it was worth the effort of cooking. He could order pizza he supposed but that would be his third delivery of the week which was getting a little hard on the wallet and truly after another day in the mall surrounded by the smell of fast food he just wasn't sure he could do it.

Honestly he couldn't decide if his recent craving for fresh vegetables was more a sign of maturity or of poverty.

There was a sharp rap at the door followed by two more softer knocks.

Jaskier turned and grabbed his phone off the counter. He wasn't expecting anyone and he didn't want to open the door to solicitors.

The only notification was a text from Geralt. "I told you to let me help you with that machine," Jaskier muttered as he opened the message.

-You are tired but you still need to eat. Have these now or sleep first and eat them for breakfast. All directions included.-

Jaskier looked up to the door again. "Geralt," he called out.

There was no response. 

Jaskier set his phone down, walked over to the door and unlatched it, opening it to see not his neighbor but instead a canvas bag packed with plastic containers.

Jaskier looked down the hall but Geralt was nowhere in sight. He went back into his apartment, bag in hand.

His phone vibrated again on the counter. Jaskier set the bag down beside it and began unpacking as he read the message.

-Sorry for knocking too loud if you were asleep.-

Jaskier smiled to himself as he looked through the different containers. Each one had a note taped to the cover with detailed instructions written out in Geralt's neat hand.

There was some sort of casserole, a potato dish that Jaskier very much liked the look of, and a deli container filled with soup. To Jaskier's delight there was also a large tub of salad.

The other items went into the fridge but Jaskier brought the salad to the couch with him. 

He turned on the TV just to have something to listen to. It wasn't the same as company and again Jaskier thought about what it might be like to sit across a table from Geralt, to share an evening meal and conversation. What the rest of that night might include.

The salad was good, fresh crisp greens paired with dried cranberries - his favorite - and slivered almonds with salty crumbles of cheese spread throughout. There was a tangy vinaigrette over all that tasted a bit like raspberries. It was cold and bright and everything Jaskier wanted in that moment. He felt very silly to be getting emotional over a salad and a thoughtful gesture but he allowed himself the indulgence. 

When Jaskier was done eating he flipped the TV off, rinsed the container out before setting it in the dishwasher, and went to bed.

The next morning found Jaskier in Santa's Workshop getting back into the suit. He had eaten the container of soup for breakfast, pouring it into his travel thermos to drink on the way, and found himself rather thankful for his new role as the Santa costume allowed him to disguise the worst of the damage he had done to his wardrobe in a way his elf jerkin never would have managed.

Someone needed to repair the roads, that butternut squash was really going to stain.

The children were already queuing up as Jaskier finished adjusting his coat.

"Goth day came early," Pris said, coming into the small curtained area they were allowed for breaks. "I didn't expect them for another few days. I have dibs on her but he looks just your type. Maybe get you back into the game."

"Goth day," Jaskier repeated, trying to peek through the gap in the door of the small shed they had put up for staff to change and take breaks.

"I forgot this is your first year," Pris said. "Every year the local goths come out to take pictures with Santa. It's cute, and so are they, and they usually come later in the season so we can flirt a little bit."

"Priscilla, shame on you," Jaskier chided, still trying to pick out who she referred to in the crowd. "We are here for the children, not our own prurient--"

And there almost camouflaged by a display of winter coats at the edge of the crowd was Geralt, Ciri perched on his shoulders, their matched heads of white blond hair a beacon against the darkness. Beside them a beautiful woman that looked almost familiar.

"Handsome, right? The kid is cute too, what if she woke up christmas morning and saw daddy kissing Santa Claus?"

Jaskier waved his arm behind him. "Shut up, shut up! That's my neighbor," he hissed.

"Your hot neighbor," Pris asked, rushing up to the door and shoving Jaskier out of the way.

The wooden door, barely steadfast at the best of times, thudded softly as Pris tried to get closer and Jaskier pushed her back.

A harrumph from the other side of the door stopped their slap-fight cold. "Five minutes til showtime, kiddos. I don't give a shit what you get up to in your off hours but we have a job to do."

Jaskier met Pris' eyes and mouthed 'showtime.' She responded with jazz hands.

"Seriously, though," Jaskier whispered to Pris. "You have to be cool about Geralt. I like him. Like, as a friend, I mean. He's a good guy."

She nodded and patted his shoulder.

Jaskier took a deep breath and finished adjusting his beard. It was just another gig. No big deal.

The first few children were repeats of the day before and Jaskier fancied he had gotten better at dealing with them. Pop on the knee, a few ho-ho-ho's, pose for a photo, and then off to Pris to be handed back to their parents with a candy cane in their mitts.

All the while Jaskier watched Geralt and Ciri and a woman who must be Yennefer get closer until they were next in line.

Jaskier tried to ignore Geralt, hoping the other man wouldn't look too closely and that this costume would be disguise enough as he wasn't exactly proud of this particular strain of revenue and hadn't mentioned it.

Jaskier caught the other man's gaze accidentally as Geralt assisted Ciri up the stairs of their little dais and he didn't see any recognition in his eyes so Jaskier let himself relax into the situation at hand.

He popped Ciri onto his knee and prepared to ask her what she wanted for Christmas. Jaskier debated trying to trick her with Santa magic as she had already told him a few weeks previous but before he got the chance her tiny pointy fingers grabbed surprisingly strong hold of his beard.

"I know you not Santa," Ciri muttered. "You are my granpa."

Jaskier sat frozen, not knowing how to respond.

"You can-- you tell Santa. Be nice to my daddy."

Jaskier repeated that and Ciri nodded. "He's sad. Make hims Christmas good."

"How could your daddy have a bad Christmas with such a sweet little girl," Jaskier asked softly but Ciri only shook her head.

Jaskier wanted to ask more, find out what was going on as Geralt had seemed fine the night before, but the line of children was only growing and Santa couldn't play favorites.

He pressed his forehead against Ciri's briefly. "Okay, little girl. Santa will make sure your daddy has a wonderful Christmas. But surely you must want something for yourself?" And she did, of course, the same gift she had been crowing about and that Jaskier already knew was sitting wrapped in Geralt's closet.

They posed for their picture, Ciri got her candy cane, and Jaskier watched as she toddled off to her parents.

He tried to see what Ciri was talking about in Geralt but he didn't really look sad. Maybe quieter than usual, though that could have been due to the crowd, or the presence of his ex wife Jaskier let himself think uncharitably.

Shrugging it off for now Jaskier looked away from the little family as they left Santa's Village and turned to the next child in line.

The rest of his shift found Jaskier in a strange frame of mind. He did his best to give each child a magical Santa experience, his ego would accept nothing less, but at the same time he was worried about Geralt.

He hadn't noticed anything wrong with the other man recently though with Jaskier's new gig and the lead up to the holidays they didn't speak as often as usual. It had to be serious if Ciri was concerned, though. What if something was wrong?

Finally done with work and headed home Jaskier resolved to speak to the other man no matter what. And he had those empty plastic containers to return if he needed an excuse.

Unfortunately events conspire to prevent Jaskier from following through on that. Pop up gigs to play at some holiday parties, covering a shift as a 'Sexy Santa' (serving, not dancing thank goodness), and Geralt's own disappearance from all the usual spaces meant he didn't actually lay eyes on the man until the 23rd on his way to the mailbox

"Oh, great I caught you," Jaskier said in a rush, stopping Geralt in the lobby. "I've been trying to talk to you for weeks."

Geralt looked confused but accepting which would be wonderful if Jaskier had any idea what to say next. Did he just tell the man Ciri thought he was sad? That seemed almost too forward, though from the look of wear on the blond's face, not inaccurate.

Spotting the other man's backpack Jaskier jumped in with both feet. "Grocery shopping! I need to go shopping and that food you gave me was so inspiring I thought I might try making it for myself. Get healthy in the new year?" Jaskier patted his own midriff, absently smoothing down his tee shirt.

Geralt nodded slowly. "I can give you the recipes if you'd like? Or--"

"I'd love to go shopping with you, actually," Jaskier rushed. "Learn the process from beginning to end. You definitely know what you're doing, I've barely restrained myself from chewing on the containers." Jaskier told himself Geralt's cheeks pinked up at that. Oh. Unless, "--which I will be getting back to you as soon as possible. No bite marks."

Geralt smiled, just a small quirk of the lip, before he nodded. "Are you-- did you want to go now?"

Jaskier looked down and examined his outfit. Sweatpants and a tee shirt that met basic human decency needs and his wallet and keys were in his pocket.

"I'm good."

Geralt just nodded and gestured to his backpack. "I have reusable bags if you need them."

"Oh, it's fine," Jaskier said. "I get paper."

That sparked a conversation that lasted most of the drive to the store, both men being surprisingly passionate about their choices. Jaskier maintained that paper bags he repurposed as bin liners or drop cloths for messy projects were better than reusable plastic bags even if they were made of recycled water bottles.

The bag conversation evolved into shopping habits and diet and as they walked through the store examining produce and comparing meat prices per pound Jaskier realized he was actually having fun. Grocery shopping had always been one of the chores he did just to do, taking the quickest possible route from item to item so he could get back to his life a little bit faster. But there was a quiet pleasure in doing something domestic slowly and in good company. 

The trip back to the building was filled with a debate about the best cookie textures and then an offer to do an experiment, trying different times and temperatures on Geralt's basic recipe to see how they turned out.

Jaskiet dropped off his food quickly, tossing the perishables into fridge and freezer as required and freshening up a little before he headed over to Geralt's, the other man's plastic containers in one of the reusable bags Geralt had foisted upon him.

When he got there Geralt was still putting away his items, meticulously placing them into their designated spots in every cabinet. Jaskier amused himself by picking up items at random to offer them over. For some he made up funny voices, for others he suggested highly ludicrous storage locations like keeping cookies at precisely toddler-height to prevent fall risk. 

Geralt smiled.

It was enough.

Baking went the same way the shopping trip did. Not silent, as they traded jokes and instructions and observations, but quiet. Geralt had acquiesced to Jaskier's need for music and in exchange Jaskier had chosen one of his softer playlists of holiday songs.

When the first batch was in the oven Jaskier let the peace fill in the room for a while before broaching the subject. "So... Christmas?"

He bit his tongue and kept his eyes focused on the bowl of dough in front of him, idly scooping up balls before dropping them again.

"Christmas," Geralt repeated.

"Yeah," Jaskier said. He wasn't sure how to ask, couldn't mention Ciri outright. "Holiday plans?"

Geralt was silent for a long moment, staring into the oven. "I have to work."

Jaskier hummed a question. He didn't actually know what Geralt did for a living, they never discussed it.

"It was last minute. I told them I have responsibilities."

"Some jobs don't care," Jaskier said softly. 

"Some jobs are more important," Geralt said.

"More important than family during the holidays?"

Jaskier wanted to bite back the words before he was even finished speaking. It's not fair of him and he knew better. He tensed his shoulders, fully prepared to face Geralt's anger.

But the other man only took a deep breath.

"Not-- not more important. That was the wrong word. But important in different ways."

"I'm sorry," Jaskier blurted. "That was shitty of me. And it's none of my business anyway." Jaskier pushed back from the counter, suddenly feeling sick. "I'm gonna go. This has been -- thank you for the recipes. And the shopping. I'm gonna head back to my place."

Jaskier swept out of Geralt's apartment and back to his own, cursing himself impulsively the entire time. None of this was his business. Ciri was upset because her dad had to work on Christmas. It was sad but it wasn't anything special.

Then Jaskier stuck his nose in and made a hash of things.

Jaskier's phone vibrated in his pocket, Geralt probably. He didn't feel ready to see what the other man had to say. Jaskier already felt wildly embarassed and out of place. 

Stepping back into his apartment felt like putting on noise canceling headphones. The lack of other sound was so strong that Jaskier was intensely aware of his own breathing and heart.

And tears-- he was crying?

Why the hell was he crying?

Jaskier rubbed the heels of his hands against his eyes before pulling up the hem of his tee shirt to dry his face. He made his way to the sofa on unsteady feet and as he half collapsed onto the plush seat he heard his phone tumble out of his pocket to the carpeted floor with a full thud.

The only light in the room was the low glow of his screen as a text came in, then another.

Jaskier watched the minutes tick by as messages popped up until his phone went silent and there was a knock on the door.

"Jaskier," Geralt called. "I-- The cookies are done. I'll leave them here."

Jaskier waited for ten more minutes after Geralt was done talking. There were no more messages coming in on his phone and the silence felt heavy. He managed to haul himself off of the sofa and over to the doorway. 

Swinging the door open carefully Jaskier wasn't sure exactly what he would see and couldn't say if the regret or relief were more powerful when the other man was nowhere in sight and nothing greeted Jaskier other than a porcelain plate he recognized from Geralt's kitchen with some cookies arranged under a layer of plastic wrap.

Jaskier brought the plate inside, set it on the counter, turned his phone to Do Not Disturb, and went to bed.

Jaskier thought he would have nightmares filled with Geralt and Ciri's accusatory faces and his own neglectful father and empty holidays.

Instead he had the usual 'walked into class and found out he had a test he hadn't studied for and he was stark naked' dream. 

He could admit to being a bit disappointed. Clearly The Christmas Carol had given him unrealistic expectations.

Still in the cold grey light of a December morning Jaskier felt silly. He hadn't realized how much his own family and the upcoming holiday were wearing on him and had instead pushed that onto Geralt. And even though it was unintentional that wasn't fair. 

Jaskier's own father was gone so often he once forgot what the man looked like and hugged the wrong person at the airport arrivals gate. But Geralt was around so much Jaskier had almost assumed he was a stay-at-home father. He had truly looked pained that he wouldn't be home for Christmas with Ciri and instead of reaching out and trying to help Jaskier had accused him of putting work above his daughter.

Which-- Ciri must have known. That must have been the inspiration for her Christmas wish. She wanted her father to be happy.

And Jaskier had only succeeded in making him feel worse.

Jaskier ate some cookies for breakfast but they tasted like ash in his mouth.

They didn't. They were delicious. But they should have tasted like ash. It's what Jaskier deserved.

Fortified by sugar and chocolate Jaskier felt brave enough to open his messages.

The first two were just -Are you okay?- And after that -I'm sorry-

The last message was just to tell Jaskier the cookies would be waiting.

Jaskier knew he needed to talk to Geralt, needed to at least apologize to the other man, but he didn't know how to start. They were friends, they talked, but this felt... weird.

It was two days before Christmas, he knew Geralt would be working but he didn't know where or for how long so the window to see him before the holiday was closing.

He thought about asking Pris but that invited a much longer and more complicated conversation that he wasn't ready to have with her and she would be nearly to her family's house as it was.

Jaskier took a deep breath and steeled himself before opening his text app. He knew face to face would be better but he wasn't ready for that.

He typed. Deleted. Typed again.

It was all 'I'm sorry' and ham fisted attempts to explain. 

As he tried to draft a message that would somehow explain and excuse his behavior Jaskier continued to work through the dozen cookies until finally his fingertips found only bare porcelain.

He took a deep breath. 

-you were right. chewy with a crispy edge is better than cakey -

                                  -Thank you-

-im sorry for being a right arse last night you didn't deserve that-

                                 -It's fine. I understand.-

-You shouldn't hav-- Can I come over?-

                                   -Any time.-

Jaskier stormed into Geralt's apartment to see the man standing at the kitchen counter. "You shouldn't have to understand, I was being a complete--"

A giggle interrupted him and Jaskier saw Ciri sitting at the coffee table with a coloring book.

"Uh..." He looked to Geralt for help but the man only shrugged. "A... not nice person," Jaskier continued. 

He looked to Ciri. "I was mean to your dad last night, princess. And that wasn't fair. So I am apologizing."

Ciri nodded and smiled. "Good. You gotta watch out because of Santa." She went back to her coloring, completely unconcerned.

Jaskier smiled and moved towards the kitchen. Geralt was wiping the counter in long smooth strokes and Jaskier let himself focus on the motion of his hands.

"I really am sorry. I'd like to say I don't know where that came from but I do and it's ugly. It had nothing to do with you."

Geralt only hummed.

"You're... You're a really great dad. And I don't know if you know that."

Geralt looked up, gestured for Jaskier to do the same. His face was impassive as always but his eyes were shining.

"Jaskier, I know. I have... trouble... reading people sometimes. But you never made it hard."

"Never," Jaskier can't resist joking, delighted when Geralt's cheeks pink up a bit.

"Not-- not like that. I mean... I knew something else was bothering you and I understand. You don't have to apologize because you didn't offend me. And besides," Geralt added, turning to his display of coffee mugs on the counter. "I know I'm a great dad. I have this."

And Jaskier was presented with possibly the ugliest coffee mug he had ever seen. The shape of it was normal but the scattered abstract glaze colors made it look almost deformed. Over top of a very small handprint were the words 'World's Most Adequate Dad.'

"Yen wrote that," Geralt said, looking almost impossibly fond. "That's extremely high praise coming from her. It was my first ever Father's Day gift from Ciri."

He offered out the mug and Jaskier took it, handling it like the delicate work of art it was. He rubbed his thumb over the tiny impression of Ciri's hand and looked over at the little girl. 

She was so small. She is so loved.

Jaskier set the mug down on the counter gently and swiped his hand over his eyes. 

He heard a distressed squawk before about thirty pounds of toddler slammed into his leg.

"Jaskier, don't cry," Ciri demanded. "It's Christmas!"

Jaskier choked out a damp laugh. "I'm not. Princess, I'm not."

Jaskier looked to Geralt for permission and received a small nod from the man before leaning down to pick Ciri up, planting her on his hip.

She immediately leaned back and set her chubby hands on his face.

"You stop crying," she demanded. 

And what could Jaskier do but obey.

"We're doing Christmas early," Geralt offered. "If you wanted to join us?"

"Yes," Ciri said, fiercely. "You have to."

Jaskier looked from Ciri to Geralt, seeing nothing but sincerity. 

"I was going to ask you but I never got the chance," Geralt said.

There were pots on the stove and the kitchen smelled like the beginning of a beautiful meal. A small christmas tree sat in the corner, three presents under its sparkling branches.

"Wait," Ciri said, kicking her legs against Jaskier's stomach. "You gotta-- gotta put me down."

Jaskier set her on the floor and she scrambled over to the table to pick up her drawing.

He watched her run back past him and around the corner to her father and Geralt dropped out of sight.

In a mix of whispers and attempt-to-whisper that Jaskier attempted to ignore a deal was struck and when Geralt rose back into sight it was with Ciri perched on his back, her blonde hair blending seamlessly with his own, and a crumpled piece of paper in his hands.

"You are formally invited to spend Christmas with the Rivia family," Geralt intoned, passing the piece of paper over the counter.

He waved it a few times before Jaskier took it from his hand.

Thick crayoned lines of purple and green and orange made up three rough figures. Two taller and one short. One of the taller ones had a brown blob attached to it. Jaskier's guitar, he could only assume.

Christmas stickers surrounded the image and lines of illegible scrawl covered the bottom of the page.

"Is this my invitation," Jaskier asked softly.

Geralt nodded and Ciri gave Jaskier an enthusiastic thumbs up before poking her father in the arm.

"I told you I write good."

"You do," Geralt said, twisting until his daughter was in his arms. "You write very well."

Two sets of eyes settled on Jaskier.

"Oh. Uh, yeah. Yeah, of course," Jaskier stuttered. "Of course I want to spend Christmas with you. Are you kidding?"

Ciri's laugh matched Jaskier's own. 

"Okay," he said. "Let me go back to my place, just to freshen up. I'll be right back."

Ciri and Geralt had another almost whispered conversation before they turned back to him and nodded.

"Come back," Ciri said. "You gotta."

Jaskier swept out of their apartment and back to his own. A quick shower and change of clothes later and Jaskier was in front of Geralt's apartment, his guitar over one shoulder and a duffel bag on the other.

Music bled out into the hall as he approached, the same soft holiday playlist that Jaskier and Geralt had listened to the night before. 

The door swung open to a disgruntled Ciri.

"You took forever," she whined. 

"Forever," Jaskier gasped. "Oh no. Are you Ciri's granddaughter? Has it been so long?"

"Noooo," Ciri giggled. "It's me!"

"Thank goodness," Jaskier said, as he wiped the back of his hand across his forehead. "Otherwise these Christmas presents would go to waste."

Ciri's eyes lit up. "Presents?!" She turned to walk into the apartment crowing, "I love Christmas!"

Geralt walked up to the door, nimbly avoiding the now dancing little girl, and took Jaskier's bag before he nodded at the guitar.

Jaskier felt his face heat. "I thought... if you wanted some Christmas music. But, uh, I can hear it playing already so never mind..."

Jaskier saw Geralt smile as the man turned to walk in. 

"It's a nice idea. Ciri will love it."

"Yeah," Jaskier asked.

Geralt hummed in response.

Jaskier took a deep breath and hiked his guitar more securely on his shoulder before walking into the apartment.

Jaskier imagined when he was small there was still some magic to the holiday season but as he grew older Christmas was more obligation than anything else. Appearances at the right parties, the formal family dinner, and an impersonal card with the appropriate amount of money in it and the stern expectation that it should be spent properly.

It was better when he left. He kept his friends at a distance but there was enough care to keep him warm. Parties still. Always. But instead of his parents' colleagues and dry conversation it was laughter and singing with his classmates and coworkers over whatever bottle they could afford.

It wasn't Christmas, not the kind he dreamt of when he was a child, but it wasn't bad.

Early Christmas with the Rivias, though?

Jaskier tore his shirt playing video games with Ciri when she tried to pull the controller away from him. Then she threw a screaming tantrum when she lost and had to be sent to the naughty step for four minutes. Which was mostly a punishment for Jaskier since Geralt was busy in the kitchen so he had been designated monitor and her little sniffles and heart breaking looks were almost more than he could bear. Geralt burned the first batch of gravy and was worrying silent for twenty minutes. More silent than usual. The smoke alarm went off in another apartment and all of them were halfway down the stairs before a firefighter found them and said it was a false alarm and they could go home. That cost them a batch of rolls and another twenty minutes of silence and upset looks. 

And Jaskier got to give Ciri a one man concert, managing to play all of her favorites even if a few were somewhat looser renditions than he would have preferred, while Geralt hummed along from the kitchen. Christmas Charades evolved into an interpretive dance performance of Ciri's favorite carols. A squabble over the last dinner roll was settled with a bloodthirsty game of Rock, Paper, Scissors that Geralt won. He devoured the roll with large messy chomps that set Ciri falling against Jaskier with laughter. Washing dishes shoulder to shoulder with Geralt while Ciri sang tunelessly in the living room, playing with her new plush wolf. At the end of the day Ciri fell asleep during It's a Wonderful Life draped over both Jaskier and Geralts laps in such a fashion that there was no way to move her without waking her.

It was perfect.

Jaskier blinked again as the screen blurred in front of him. The movie had to be almost over. Another blink. 

An arm wrapped around Jaskier's shoulders and he leaned against the warm figure beside him and slept.

When he woke up the television screen had gone black. At some point Ciri had shifted completely onto Geralt's lap and both of them were deep asleep.

Jaskier found himself caught at the sight. It felt almost too intimate for him to be there. He moved off of the couch slowly, his desire not to wake them warring against his need to stretch as quickly and as thoroughly as possible before the kinks in his back set up residency. 

When he turned back to look at them he saw Geralt's arm draped against the back of the couch where Jaskier had been sitting.

The other man shifted, his heavy brow wrinkling as his fingers stretched before he pulled his arm back down to wrap around Ciri.

Jaskier bit back a coo, and reached for his phone. Taking a picture felt weird but it was a sweet image and maybe he could frame a print for Geralt.

Flicking open the screen he saw a series of messages and groaned.

Jaskier thought he had been quiet but he saw Geralt snort his way into wakefulness and Ciri grizzle in his arms.

"Shit," Jaskier whispered. "I'm sorry, it's my-- my family. I'll go. Go back to sleep."

Without waiting for an answer Jaskier turned to leave. He gathered his things one handed even as he scrolled through his messages and as he closed the door behind him he put his phone to his ear.

As Jaskier sank into his own couch, his phone abandoned on the kitchen counter, he could still hear his mother's voice. Was he eating enough? Did he need money? Did he want to come home for the holiday? Did he want to work for his father?

They were questions she had asked a thousand times over and he had yet to find answers she would accept. He knew eventually he would convince her he could run his own life, or he would just wear her down, but for the time being it was exhausting.

Spending the day with Geralt and Ciri, in the warmth of their early Christmas, suddenly felt very far away. 

Jaskier's phone buzzed on the counter and he hauled himself off of the sofa to get it. Expecting another message from his mother he unlocked his phone only to see a text from Geralt with a photo attached.

It was a selfie Geralt had apparently taken showing the three of them on the couch only a few hours ago. Ciri sleeping hard, her head pressed into Jaskier's chest even as he was asleep on Geralt's shoulder. 

The other man was smiling, soft and shy, but so bright and Jaskier felt his breath catch in his chest. 

This was dangerous. Geralt was a good father, a good friend, a good man.

Jaskier's heart never stood a chance.