#geraltjaskier

drunk geralt, a “scary witcher”:

- very cuddly, all sloppy smiles

- needs attention or he may literally cry

- likes booping people on the nose (especially his brothers and jaskier)

- tries to pet every cat he sees

drunk jaskier, who’s named after a flower:

- will fight someone, anyone, just give him the chance. may literally kill a person if they insult geralt

- always loses one of his socks

- tries to steal another goat for eskel, a friend for lil bleater

- gets arrested (if he got drunk with lambert, they both get arrested)

Modern AU “and they were roommates” geraskier getting together, with appearances by Ciri & Valdo. Geralt is probably grey ace or demi here. This started as something small and silly and non-shippy and quickly grew into something else entirely. 7,000 words.

–

Jaskier was in constant motion, darting and dancing around the kitchen, opening cupboards, belting out Need You Tonight by INXS. His oversized Lil Nas X t-shirt was covered in flour and he had a smear of batter on his cheek. 

“I’m home!” Ciri called as she came through the front door.

“Ah! The help has arrived!” Jaskier answered enthusiastically. 

Ciri wrinkled her nose as she smelled vanilla in the air and realised that Jaskier’s voice had come from the kitchen.

“Are you trying to bake again?”

“I’m not trying, I ambaking.”

“Didn’t Dad ban you from the kitchen?” Ciri asked as she toed off her vans sneakers.

Jaskier spluttered. 

“Why—I—this is my kitchen too, I’ll have you know! A man has to eat!”

“Yeah, but a man doesn’t have to bake. And you can’t bake.”

“I most certainly can, and besides, I’ll have help, so get in here.”

Ciri dropped her backpack by the table and entered the kitchen. 

“Dad’s gonna kill you when he sees this,” she said, assessing the disaster zone that was the kitchen.

“We’ll have it cleaned up by the time he gets home.”

“I’m not the cleaner!”

“No, you’re the helper! So less arguing, more helping.”

“Jask, what happened to the spice rack?!”

“Uh, well, there was an… incident. Don’t worry about it, I’ll fix it later.”

“What possessed you with the need to bake and risk Dad’s temper, anyways?”

“He’s had a rough week, so I’m baking him a cake to cheer him up! That’s true friendship.”

“I don’t think true friendship is destroying the kitchen and making an inedible cake.”

“Oh! Rude! You should try to take after me more than your father. The man has terrible manners.”

Ciri snorted.

“Dad said specifically to” - here Ciri lowered her voice, in a rough but passable imitation of her father - “only listen to Uncle Jaskier about video games, music, or when he’s passing along a message.”

Jaskier spluttered again and jabbed a finger in the air.

“Well! I! I will have words with him later, but that just proves my point. Terriblyrude.”

“You’re right, he’s the worst. So maybe we should forget the cake and just start cleaning up the mess.”

“Absolutely not.”

Ciri sighed resignedly and came up alongside Jaskier, and he showed her the recipe and assigned her tasks. A minute later they heard the front door open.

“Ciri, you didn’t happen to invite a friend over…?”

“No?”

Jaskier furrowed his brow, wiped his hands on his shirt and walked out towards the front door.

“Ah,cock it. Geralt! What are you doing home?”

Geralt turned to him, raising his brows. “Am I not allowed to be?”

“You’re just…early, is all.” Jaskier twisted the hem of his shirt between his fingers. He wasn’t sure if he was more worried about Geralt seeing the mess, or for his surprise to be ruined. 

“Vesemir insisted I go home early,” Geralt grunted out.

“Ah. That’s…kind of him.”

Geralt finally looked at Jaskier after hanging up his coat and taking off his shoes.

“Jaskier, what is all over your shirt? And why do I smell vanilla?”

“We-ell…”

“Iknow you’re not baking after the birthday cookie incident. I was scraping dough off the ceiling and walls for a week.”

“It wasn’tthatbad.”

“A week! And you were banned from baking.”

Jaskier bristled. “You don’t get to tell me what to do, Geralt! I’m a grown man. I pay rent, too. Ciri is your child, but Iamnot.” He was jabbing his finger around for punctuation.

“Could have fooled me, most days,” Geralt grumbled. He started walking towards the kitchen, and Jaskier tried to stop him. 

“Wait, Geralt, if you need something from the kitchen, let me get it for you.”

“Now I’m reallyworried.”

Geralt reached the doorway to the kitchen and stopped, stunned. “How did you even managethis?!”

“I had nothing to do with it!” Ciri piped up. “I just got home and he said I had to help. He’s making a cake.”

“Cirilla!” Jaskier hissed. 

Geralt turned to Jaskier, bewildered. “You don’t even like cake, Jask.”

“No, but you do,” he mumbled.

“Ciri, do you have homework?” 

She nodded at her dad.

“You can go ahead and get started on it, if you like.”

“Ok!” Ciri gave Jaskier’s arm a squeeze as she passed. “Good luck, Uncle Jask.”

Jaskier sighed. Once Ciri was gone, Geralt walked further into the kitchen and surveyed the damage more carefully.

“Is this the recipe?”

“Yeah. You weren’t supposed to be home until it was all done and cleaned up.”

“Looks like I should have been home earlier.”

Jaskier pouted, and Geralt smirked before glancing over the recipe, then the ingredients strewn across the counter.

“Jaskier, this is baking soda.”

“Yes?”

“It’s supposed to be baking powder.”

“Oh. Not the same thing, then?”

Geralt pinched the bridge of his nose.

“No, not the same thing. Did you put it in already?”

“No.”

“Ok. This might be salvageable.” Geralt pushed his sleeves up.

“But,” Jaskier whined, “I was trying to surprise you.”

Geralt huffed a laugh. “This was surprise enough. Come on, show me what you’ve done, we’ll try to finish this. I want the kitchen cleaned up before it’s time for pizza and movie night.”

Jaskier sighed again and told Geralt what he’d done so far, and they finished mixing ingredients, working together. Geralt magnanimously did not comment on the spice rack. 

It was feeling like the birthday cookies all over again, not that Jaskier would admit it. He had wanted to make Geralt a treat for his birthday, and thought cookies were a great idea, as they could be packed in his lunch for the week. Unfortunately he’d had a mishap with the mixer, Geralt had walked into the disaster and summarily kicked him out of the kitchen. As a result, Jaskier had been banned from baking. Instead of making Geralt smile, he’d just given him another headache. Typical. No matter how hard Jaskier tried, he couldn’t seem to do things right. He sometimes wondered that Geralt let him stay as a roommate at all. 

“So, care to tell me why you were baking, when you have neither the skills to bake, nor like eating cake?”

“You were having a shit week. I wanted to cheer you up,” Jaskier mumbled.

Geralt’s mouth twitched up in a half smile, and his eyes went soft.

“Maybe store-bought is a better call next time, though I appreciate the thought.”

The batter was poured into a cake pan, and Geralt put it into the oven, setting a timer.

“I’m sorry, Geralt. I wanted to do something nice for you, and I cocked it all up.”

“It was a very nice thought, Jask. Besides, this way it should probably be edible. I’ll let you ice it.”

“Oh, you’ll trust me with that, will you?” Jaskier asked sarcastically. 

“Under Ciri’s supervision,” Geralt smirked.

“Fine. Look, the cake is in the oven now, why don’t you go shower, and I’ll clean up.” 

Geralt glanced around the kitchen and accepted, to Jaskier’s immense relief. The least he could do at this point was clean up the mess he’d made, and he was fairly sure he could do that without causing any more damage. Geralt gave him instructions on how to check the cake with a toothpick to see if it was ready when the timer went off before heading upstairs.

Jaskier followed the instructions and proceeded to clean the kitchen while he waited for the cake to be ready, wiping up spilled ingredients, loading up the dishwasher with as many dishes as possible. He tried to put the spice rack back to rights, but eventually settled on just gathering all the parts and jars into the corner of the counter. That was a problem for tomorrow; one that might require a quick online order for a new spice rack.

When the timer went off, he checked it as per instructions before turning off the oven and setting the cake to cool. He then pulled up the recipe for the icing, and was in the midst of getting out the ingredients when Ciri walked back in.

“Dad said to come help you ice the cake when I was done my homework.”

“Perfect timing, princess! Grade seven has got nothing on you, hmm? Always said you were brilliant.” 

“I didn’t have much,” Ciri mumbled, cheeks blushing and biting back a smile. Jaskier grinned.

“Alright! Let’s make some icing and decorate this cake!”

They gathered the rest of the ingredients and started mixing.

“So, are we just icing it plain white?” Ciri asked.

Jaskier frowned. “Where’s the fun in that? I think we still have food colouring from your birthday…” He started ransacking the cupboards.

“Do you have a design in mind?”

“Well… not exactly. I want to do a horse, but I do actually know my limits - somewhat - and that is not within my skill set.”

Ciri snorted. Jaskier found the bottles of food colouring, set them down on the counter then scowled at the cake.

“Are you mad at it, or hoping the cake will spontaneously give you a brilliant idea?” Ciri teased.

“I just… I wanted to surprise him,” Jaskier grumbled.

Ciri snickered. “I think he wassurprised.”

Jaskier swatted at her arm. “You know what I mean!”

Ciri laughed again, then set the spatula down and turned to Jaskier.

“Are you ever gonna tell him?”

Jaskier raised a brow. “What, that I wanted to surprise him?”

“That you love him.”

“What?!”

Ciri rolled her eyes fondly. 

“You’reso obvious. Plus, I live here.”

“What does that mean?? That those who don’t live here alsoknow?”

Ciri let out a surprised laugh. “Of course!”

Jaskier wailed dramatically and dropped his head into his hands, bracing his elbows on the counter.

“Your mother?”

“Of course.”

“Your other uncles?”

“They have a betting pool.”

“Theywhat?!”

“On when you’ll get together.”

“Likethat’s going to happen,” Jaskier muttered. “Just bury me somewhere pretty, will you?”

“And you guys tease me for being a dramatic pre-teen! Seriously though, you should tell him.”

“Surprised no-one elsehas.” 

“Dad’s smart, but not when it comes to things like this. He’ll never notice on his own.”

“Good!!”

“Why is that good?!”

“Because it would ruin everything!”

“I’m pretty sure he feels the same way. He just may not realise it, yet.”

Jaskier lifted his face to give her a disbelieving stare.

“I’m serious! He’s so… himself around you. He’s relaxed. Plus, he gets this sort of dopey look when he looks at you sometimes. He doesn’t look at anyone else like that.”

“I don’t know, Ciri. He’s relaxed around me because we’ve been friends for so long. And are you sure you aren’t misinterpreting his eyes? Sure they aren’t actually saying what did I ever do to be saddled with this nuisance?”

Ciri sighed. “I’m sure, Uncle Jask.”

“Hmmph.”

“So, how about I love you, with a big pink heart for the love?”

“Absolutely not!”

“Fine, a pride rainbow heart.”

“Cirilla!”

“What?” Ciri batted her lashes in a show of innocence. 

“Maybe we should just ice it plain white,” Jaskier grumbled.

-

Geralt came down from his shower and was about to walk into the kitchen for a beer when he heard Jaskier declare, “Because it would ruin everything!” 

Was there an issue with the cake? Before he could enter the kitchen and ask, he heard Ciri answer, “I’m pretty sure he feels the same way. He just may not realise it, yet.” 

Who felt the same way about what? 

“I’m serious!” he heard Ciri continue. “He’s so… himself around you. He’s relaxed. Plus, he gets this sort of dopey look when he looks at you sometimes. He doesn’t look at anyone else like that.”

Did someone have a crush on Jaskier? What did Ciri know that he didn’t? He tuned out the rest of their conversation as he mulled it over. Someone that was relaxed around Jaskier, he mused. Someone Ciri knew well, it seemed. His mind wandered to his brother Eskel. Jaskier and Eskel had known each other for just about as long as himself and Jaskier, and while Eskel was usually reserved around people outside their family, he had quickly warmed to Jaskier, and they were now nearly as close as Geralt and his brothers were. Something twinged in his gut at the thought, and he shook his head. If Eskel cared for Jaskier, and Jaskier felt the same way, that would be great. They both deserved to be happy, and if they made each other happy, that would be…wonderful. Why didn’t it feel wonderful? He rolled his shoulders and shook his head. It was just unexpected, that’s all. He pushed the thought aside. It had been a long week, he had a headache, he wanted a beer and to order dinner.

“Can I come into the kitchen?” Geralt asked from the hallway. “I want a beer.”

“Oh, uh, sure, one sec,” Jaskier answered, and Geralt heard quiet shuffling before, “Ok, come in.”

He entered the kitchen to find Ciri and Jaskier standing side-by-side in front of the counter, clearly hiding the cake behind their backs. He smiled at them and got himself a beer, then turned back to face them. 

“I’ll go out to the living room and order the pizza. Same as usual?”

His roommate and his daughter both nodded at him, and he walked out and dropped heavily onto the couch, taking a sip of his beer. He opened the app and ordered their dinner, then switched on the TV to channel surf while he waited for the other two. 

He found his mind wandering back to the conversation he had overheard. It had sounded like Jaskier liked this mystery person back. Why hadn’t he said anything to Geralt about it? Jaskier never stopped talking, and usually nothing was too personal for the gregarious musician to share.

Geralt felt a bit hurt that Jaskier had kept his apparent affection a secret. Did he not trust him to keep it a secret? Did he think it might be weird, if the object of his affection was actually his brother? Geralt had never spilled a secret, unlike his roommate, and of course it was fine if the man liked his brother. Of course. Why wouldn’t it be? Nothing wrong with liking your roommate’s brother. They’d probably be good for each other. 

The twinge in his chest was only because Jaskier apparently didn’t trust him. 

-

After they finished their pizza, Jaskier came out of the kitchen with the cake, setting it down on the coffee table in front of Geralt. It was iced white, with wonky rainbow letters spelling out “Happy Day” on top. Geralt snorted.

“Happy Day?”

Jaskier shrugged with a sheepish smile. “Cake decorating is not one of the arts in which I am talented.”

Geralt gave him a genuine smile. “Thanks, Jask. And you too, Ciri.”

Ciri brought out plates and forks, but Jaskier declined having any as Geralt served pieces. That didn’t stop him from sticking his finger into the icing on Geralt’s slice.

“Get your own!”

“I don’t like cake! I made it for you.”

“Next time just set aside a bowl of icing for yourself.”

“I would if I thought you’d actually let me without berating my ear off.”

Geralt snorted again and took a bite of cake. “Mmm. Not bad, I’m impressed.”

“Oh ye of little faith.”

When the movie was over, Ciri excused herself to get ready for bed, and Geralt and Jaskier sat on the couch nursing their beers. Geralt flipped on a nature documentary and they watched in silence for a while. 

Jaskier looked at Geralt, who didn’t seem to be watching the show, instead staring off out the window with a furrowed brow.

“Work still bothering you?” Jaskier asked.

“Hmm? Oh, no. It’s nothing,” Geralt responded. He wasn’t about to tell Jaskier that he had eavesdropped outside the kitchen earlier, and couldn’t stop thinking about it. If Jaskier wanted to tell him about his crush, he would. Far be it from Geralt to stick his nose in it.

“You seem distracted.”

“Just tired.”

“Hmm.” Jaskier sounded unconvinced. “You know I’m always here if you want to talk,” he offered.

“Same to you,” Geralt responded, and Jaskier laughed, startled. 

“I thought the problem was that I never stoppedtalking?” 

“Never said that,” Geralt mumbled.

“Oh ho ho! You most certainly have, on more than one occasion.”

Geralt grunted. “Was only kidding.”

“I assure you, Geralt, if I have anything I need to get off my chest, you’ll be the first to hear it.”

Geralt grunted again in response. He wasn’t sure how else to respond to being lied to, as that clearly wasn’t the case, and Jaskier had deigned him not worthy of hearing about it. Not that Geralt really cared. So what. Let him moon over his brother in secret, then. It was fine.

-

Geralt was putting his boots on at the door the next morning, ready to go riding with Ciri, when Jaskier hurried out of the bathroom, towel wrapped around his waist and hair still dripping wet.

“Geralt! Can you grab a carton of coconut milk on your way home? We’re almost out, and I would go, but I have to get the demo for the new single done by this afternoon…”

Having known Jaskier half his life, and having lived with him for years, Geralt had seen Jaskier in all states of dress, and undress. The expanse of wet, hairy skin shouldn’t even have registered. So why did his cheeks feel warm? And when exactly had Jaskier become so muscular? How long had that been hiding underneath his flouncy, billowy blouses and oversized t-shirts?

“Geralt?”

Ciri elbowed him in the side, and Geralt shook his head, realising that he’d been staring and that Jaskier was waiting for an answer.

“Yes. Sure. No problem,” he replied gruffly, yanking his other boot on and reaching for the door. “See you later.”

“Have fun!”

Geralt brooded on the drive to the stables. He didn’t even notice when Ciri changed the radio station, something that was against the rules in the truck, (not that that stopped either her or Jaskier from doing it often, much to Geralt’s frustration). He also didn’t shove his hand into the frame as she snapped selfies on her phone, nor clock her assessing gaze on him as he drove.

Once they were out on the trail, Ciri rode up alongside him.

“Something on your mind, Dad? Or someone?” she asked with a smirk. 

“What? No. Why?”

“You just seem distracted.”

“I’m fine.”

“Wasn’t that nice of Uncle Jaskier to make you a cake yesterday?”

Geralt grunted. “What, nice of him to make a mess of the kitchen?”

Ciri rolled her eyes. “He was concerned about you, he said you’d had a bad week. He did clean up, and he said he would order a new spice rack.”

“I’m not even going to ask what happened.”

Ciri shrugged. “I don’t know, the kitchen already looked like a bomb went off when I got home from school. Anyways, I thought it was sweet. He really cares about you, Dad.”

“Sure.”

“And I think you really care about himtoo.”

Geralt gave her a quizzical look. “Of course. He’s one of my best friends. Is there something you want to talk about, Cirilla?”

Ciri opened her eyes wide and held out her hands. “Nope! Just making conversation. Race ya to the trees!” She spurred on her horse without waiting for an answer, and Geralt begrudgingly followed. 

What was that about? Was Ciri trying to remind him of their friendship in case something happened with Jaskier’s crush? They had both dated people here and there since living together, it wasn’t a big deal. Ciri had known about the relationships and nothing had functionally changed at home, so she shouldn’t have reason to be concerned.  

The rest of the afternoon passed with an odd sort of tension, Ciri sliding him sidelong glances that he couldn’t parse. When he tried to question her about it, she avoided answering, redirecting the conversation with a deftness that belied her age. 

By the end of their ride, he wasn’t any closer to figuring out what she meant and he got back into his truck feeling more frustrated and less relaxed than he usually did after a ride.

-

Jaskier sat at his desk, tapping his pen against the top with a ferocity that would have had Geralt storming in and removing it from his grip, had he been home. He was still out riding with Ciri, however, so Jaskier’s nervous habits had full reign. He needed to get this demo finished, but he couldn’t seem to concentrate. Every time he started mixing or re-listening, he would hear Ciri in his head telling him that everyone knew he was in love with Geralt, or that she thought that he might feel the same. He groaned and dropped his forehead onto the keyboard, creating a cacophony of sounds on the computer. He tapped it again for good measure. 

He had been in love with his best friend for years, so this was utterly distracting, and, he was certain, utterly hopeless. He had flirted with the man often enough in the early days of their friendship, and that had got him exactly nowhere. He didn’t think Geralt had even noticed. He also never seemed to take note of Jaskier’s outfits, care about seeing his bare skin, or about any dates or one-night-stands he had. Jaskier had even come onto him a few times over more recent years, when in a mood and especially drunk, and Geralt had brushed him off every time. Sometimes tucking him into bed as if he were another child, leaving him water and pills on the bedside table for the inevitable hangover the next day. It was an absolutely hopeless case, but Jaskier’s heart stubbornly wouldn’t get the message, and so now, even though he knew, he knew, that Ciri was wrong, he couldn’t get her words out of his head. 

“Auuuugh!”

He pushed away from his desk and shoved his hands through his hair, tugging at it before dropping them back down. He grabbed his phone from beside the keyboard and tapped at the screen a couple times before setting it down, letting it ring on speaker.

“Hey asshole, what’s up?” a voice spoke through the phone.

“Val, you cocksucker, I’d say it’s lovely to hear your voice, but we would both know it’s a lie.”

“I’d ask if you’ve finished the demo yet, but we both know you wouldn’t be calling if you had.”

Jaskier sighed in answer.

“The usual, then?” Valdo asked over the line.

“Hit me.”

“Julian, you limp-wristed, puffed-up peacock of a man. You couldn’t find your tiny dick if you had a map, and you couldn’t carry a tune if you had two hands and a bucket. Your ideas are tired, your lyrics are cliché, and there is no way inhell you’ll have the demo done this week, let alone today, because you only excel at disappointing expectations, and lowering the collective intelligence of any room you walk into.”

“Thanks, fucker.”

“Anytime. Let me know when you’re done, let’s grab a drink.”

“Deal.”

Jaskier tapped the phone to end the call, pulled up to the desk, and set to work. Plenty of time to obsess over his personal problems later. Having Valdo drag him never ceased to light a fire under his ass, and he attacked his task with a renewed vengeance.

-

Geralt was still stuck in his head while he made a late lunch for himself and Ciri. He couldn’t stop thinking about what it would be like if Eskel and Jaskier dated. Would it be weird? Would Jaskier still want to do movie-and-a-pizza Friday nights? Would he invite Eskel to join them? Or would they want to go out to a club? Jaskier loved to go out drinking and dancing. If not for the routine with Geralt and Ciri, he would surely be out clubbing most Friday evenings. Geralt didn’t really savour the thought of watching them canoodle during a movie, but he also thought that movie night would feel quiet and a bit empty without Jaskier. Would Jaskier want to move out? Geralt shook his head. He was getting ahead of himself. So far it was just a crush, nothing to get himself worked up over. But he couldn’t get the idea out of his head. 

The pasta was a bit overdone, and the sauce a bit runny. Ciri gave him an assessing look after her first bite, but didn’t mention it.

-

Jaskier and Valdo cheers’d their cocktails to the demo being submitted, then Jaskier tossed his entire drink back as if it were an oversized shot. Valdo watched with one dark brow raised.

“So, what had you so wound up that you needed me to trash-talk you out of it today?” he asked, smirking and poking at the ice in his glass with the tiny drink umbrella.

“Mmm?” Jaskier tried to give his best innocent look. It was pointless, as Valdo saw straight through him, as always. “I was just having a bad ADD day, just needed that extra push, you know?”

“Uh huh. And you didn’t even taste your overpriced drink because you were just dying of thirst. I mean, you can practice your bullshit on me if you want, but you know I’ll get the truth out of you eventually. And I’d rather get it out now than watch you throw away your money trying to drown whatever-it-is, and then have it come out all sloppy anyways later on.”

Jaskier’s shoulders sagged and he let out a dramatic sigh. “I hate you.”

“Yes yes, feeling’s mutual, love. So?”

“It’s…stupid.”

“Well, I’d surmised that already. It is you, after all.”

Jaskier glared at him. If only he hadn’t got sloppy and had that one night with his bandmate. If only Valdo didn’t have the uncanny ability to read his mind. If only… well.

“It’s Geralt.”

Valdo looked unimpressed. “Oh? He finally have enough and throw your disastrous ass out?”

Jaskier scowled. “No.”

“So…?”

“I’m in love with him.”

“Yes…and?”

“And…and apparently everyone knows!” Jaskier threw his arms out to the sides for emphasis.

“And?”

“I really do hate you.”

“We’ve covered that.”

Jaskier ordered another drink, then scrubbed his hands over his face. “Ciri knows, and she says the rest of her family knows, and she seems to think that… that Geralt might feel the same way.”

“And this is a bad thing, how?”

“Because she’s wrong!”

“I mean, I thought the man had better taste than that, but I don’t know him very well, so who am I to say, really? Besides, if all I have to go on that she’s wrong is yourword, then that’s pretty poor evidence.”

“Trust me. She’s wrong. I have tried - many times. Too many times. I was barking up the wrong tree. Probably in the wrong forest.” Jaskier gratefully accepted his new drink from the bartender.

Valdo smirked into his drink before replying. “And yet you can’t stop thinking about it.”

Jaskier dropped his head onto his arms on the bar and groaned. “My head knows it’s hopeless but my heart won’t listen.”

“Maybe you just need a good fuck. How long’s it been?”

Jaskier jerked his head up. “Oh no. I’m not jumping on that crazy again. Not if you paid me.”

Valdo wrinkled his nose. “I wasn’t offering. The feeling’s mutual. But not everyone has met you yet, surely. I’m certain we can find some poor sap–”

“Not tonight, Val.”

Valdo eyed him critically, brows furrowed in what might have been genuine concern. “That bad, huh?”

Jaskier gave him a miserable look and nodded, then waved at the bartender for another drink. The last one seemed to have disappeared without his notice.

-

Geralt watched Ciri walk up the path to Yennefer’s house until she was safely inside, then pulled out his phone. He’d felt it vibrate in his pocket several times as he was driving. Two missed calls from Jaskier, and as many voicemails. He frowned as he tapped to listen to them. Jaskier usually texted: if he called, and had left messages, something was usually wrong. 

“LOVE him, Val,” Jaskier’s voice slurred on the first message. Geralt’s stomach twisted. So the crush was something more serious than he’d first assumed. “Stupid… handsome face, and… bigmuscles. Stupid, acting all caring and being gentle and, and, putting up with me, and… don’t deserve him even if he did feel the same way.” It did sound like Eskel, Geralt thought, his brow furrowed. There was a loud noise of something moving across the phone’s receiver, then the voicemail ended. Geralt clicked to listen to the next one.

“Are you sure?” Valdo was saying at the beginning of the message. “Because it may hit you wrong when you’re in such a… state.” Geralt thought he heard a hum of agreement from Jaskier in response, but it was hard to tell. A sigh. “Ok. Listen up, you lazy, hairy otter.” A snort. “You are a walking, talking, human disaster. You have less adulting skills than your adopted niece, you have the emotional maturity of a puppy, and even less sense. You–” Geralt growled and hung up, unable to listen to Valdo ripping his friend apart any longer. How dare he? Geralt had never liked the other man, from the first time they’d met. He was cocky, and sarcastic, and Geralt had never trusted him. He knew Jaskier and Valdo had some weird dynamic where they traded barbs, but Geralt had never been able to understand it, and it rubbed him the wrong way. He had at least been glad that Jaskier had stopped sleeping with him. He was sure that would have been toxic in the long run. 

But Jaskier seemed to be moping over his crush, seemed to think he had no chance, and he had sounded completely wasted. What if he did something stupid? The thought of Jaskier sleeping with that asshole again made Geralt’s blood boil. He tapped the screen to call Jaskier back.

“H’lo? G’ralt?”

“Where are you?” Geralt ground out. 

“‘M at the bar, with Valdo.”

“Whichbar.”

“Bloody Alp.”

“Stay there, I’m coming to get you.” He hung up the phone and turned the key in the ignition.

-

“Wha–? No, Geralt–” Jaskier stared at his phone screen. The call had already ended. He frowned at it. “Hung up on me! Bastard. What crawled up his sculpted ass ‘n died.”

Valdo snorted. “Did he come home to some disaster of yours?”

“No!” Jaskier retorted indignantly, before deflating. “That was yesterday.”

Valdo snickered. 

Geralt arrived ten minutes later, shoving through the doors. His eyes quickly scanned the crowd until he spotted them, then he made a beeline for them, his face a stormcloud. Valdo straightened when he saw him. 

“Gods, what did you do, Jaskier?”

“Whu? Nothing! I…” he trailed off as he caught sight of Geralt stalking over. “I don’t know?” Jaskier murmured, feeling some of his drunken haze burn off with the look on Geralt’s face. 

“What are you doing here? With him?” Geralt demanded. Jaskier stared up at him from his barstool, blinking owlishly. “He treats you like shit. If you needed to get drunk, you couldn’t have waited until I was home?! You couldn’t talk to me about Eskel?”

“Eskel??” Jaskier looked dumbfounded.

“Orwhoever your crush is,” Geralt responded. Jaskier blinked at him with a blank face, and silence hung between them, until Jaskier finally broke it, his words bursting forth as he rose from the stool.

“You, you great dolt. I can’t very well talk to you about you, can I, Geralt?”

It was Geralt’s turn to blink in baffled silence. Jaskier’s face did something complicated as he realised what he had just said.

“Well!” Valdo slapped his legs as he rose from his own stool. “It’s getting late, I’ve got to be going. Let me know when you hear from the studio, hmm, Julek?” He gave Jaskier’s shoulder a squeeze as he passed, giving Geralt a wide berth before quickly exiting the bar, followed out by Geralt’s murderous glare.

Geralt turned back to Jaskier. “What do you mean, me?” he asked quietly.

“Hmm?” Jaskier hedged, unsure of how to get himself out of this.

“What do you mean me, you can’t talk to me about me?” He clenched and unclenched his fist at his side. Jaskier couldn’t mean what it sounded like. Sure, Jaskier had  seemed to be flirting with him on occasion, but Jaskier hit on everyone. He was just kidding, or it was out of pity, or something. He couldn’t possibly mean it. Geralt was… Geralt. Nothing like Instagram-ready Valdo, or curvy and gorgeous Virginia, not smooth-tongued, or fashionable. Jaskier was always teasing him for his lack of fashion or care for his appearance; that he needed to get out more, that he could learn to use his words. Geralt was well aware of all that he lacked, and well aware that he could never measure up to anyone Jaskier ever set his sights on. Which was fine. Geralt wasn’t trying to compare. They were roommates, and best friends, and… honestly, Geralt had never even considered anything more. Jaskier was pretty and vivacious and popular in crowds and… everything Geralt wasn’t, really.

Maybe he’d never considered anything more because he’d really never dreamed it could be an option. He didn’t think Jaskier would ever want anything more than friendship from him, and that had been perfectly fine with Geralt. He had been content to be roommates and friends. He couldn’t imagine Jaskier not being intrinsically part of his life, but he hadn’t really examined that thought closely.

“Is there something bothering you at home?” Geralt ventured. “Is this about the cake, somehow–”

“What?No, Geralt. Honestly, are you really so thick, or is it just an act you put on so as not to address things?”

“What?”

“You, Geralt, my crush is you. Except it isn’t a crush, really, I’m stupidly in love with you.” Jaskier chewed viciously at his lip. Geralt’s gaze was drawn down to it, and he had the strong compulsion to pull it free with his thumb. 

Geralt furrowed his brow. “That isn’t funny, Jask.”

“No, I fully agree! I don’t find it funny myself.”

“You’re serious.”

Jaskier rolled his eyes, huffed, and spun on his heel, plopping back onto his stool facing the bar. “Just leave me to my misery. I’ll see you at home once I’ve drunk enough to obliterate my memories.”

“What? You can’t say things like that, Jaskier, and then…” Geralt trailed off as he noticed that the attention on them from around the bar was growing, and he shifted uncomfortably. “Listen, will you come home, and we can continue this there?” Jaskier raised his hand to call over the bartender, and Geralt yanked it down. “Please, Jaskier,” he ground out through his teeth.

Jaskier sighed, his shoulders slumping. “Fine.” He jerked himself to standing, then swayed, and Geralt caught his elbow to steady him. Jaskier jumped at the touch, and Geralt quickly withdrew his hand. “‘m fine,” Jaskier mumbled. 

Geralt sighed, then led the way out of the bar and to the truck. They climbed in and drove home in charged silence. As they walked up the path to the front door, Jaskier spoke.

“And Ciri is–”

“At Yennefer’s”

“Right.”

They went inside, kicking their shoes off at the door. 

“So,” Geralt started as they walked further into the house.

“Geralt, really, it’s fine,” Jaskier interrupted, feeling much more sober than he’d like for this conversation. “I know you don’t feel the same way and it isn’t going to happen. I never meant to say anything, we can just forget what I said, yeah?”

“I don’t want to forget, you said–”

“Yes, I know what I said, and apparently everyone knows how I feel, everyone’s having a good laugh I’m sure–”

“Jaskier.”

“Geralt.”

“You love me? Like–”

“Yes, Geralt. I love you. Like, I look forward to seeing you every day, and your stupid grunts, and your dumb jokes, and your frankly outrageously hot body which I hnnng, I am both too soberandnot sober enough for this conversation.”

“You love me,” Geralt murmured under his breath, eyes catching on Jaskier’s bottom lip, reddened from biting.

“Yes,” Jaskier rasped.

“Can I kiss you?” Geralt whispered.

“What?”

Geralt glanced up to meet Jaskier’s eyes, and caught his bewildered stare. Jaskier nodded dumbly. Geralt leaned in and pressed their lips together softly, and Jaskier gasped against his mouth. Geralt hummed, his hand finding Jaskier’s waist and tugging him closer, his tongue swiping Jaskier’s bottom lip, tasting the fruity alcohol he’d been drinking. Jaskier seemed to snap out of his daze, letting out a light groan and leaning into Geralt, his fingers reaching up to twist into Geralt’s hair. The kiss deepened and their tongues slid together. Geralt was lost in the sensations, the solidness of Jaskier’s body under his hand, the softness of his lips, the taste of fruit and alcohol and something all Jaskier on his tongue. He was startled back to reality when Jaskier pulled back, setting his hands on Geralt’s chest to maintain some distance. Geralt looked at him, brow furrowed.

“Wait,” Jaskier said. Geralt waited. “What is this?”

“Uh…a kiss?” Geralt ventured. Jaskier made a noise of disgust, pushing him back slightly.

“What are we doing, Geralt? I’m under the impression that you don’t usually snog your roommates.”

“I don’t know.”

Jaskier’s face twisted and he turned to walk away.

“Wait!” Geralt reached out to catch Jaskier’s shirt. “I’ll tell you what I do know?”

Jaskier turned back, raising a brow and waiting for him to continue. 

“I know I can’t stand the thought of you sleeping with Valdo again–” 

Jaskier spluttered “I’m not–”

Geralt continued, ignoring him. “–or even drinking with him. The way he talks to you makes my skin itch. The thought of you with Eskel was easier, but only comparatively. I didn’t like the thought of having to see you together. I liked the thought of losing you even less.”

“Why would you lose me?” Jaskier asked softly.

“If you started dating someone… what would happen to movie nights? And you’d probably eventually want your own space. I don’t want you to move out. I don’t want to stop coming home to you.”

“It would be tidier,” Jaskier suggested, a corner of his lips tilted up.

“I don’t want it tidier. I don’t–I don’t want a life without you in it.”

“Well, Geralt,” Jaskier drawled, “as luscious as your lips are, you don’t need to kiss me to keep me in your life.”

“But what if I want to?” Geralt murmured, tugging Jaskier lightly back towards him. 

“What about tomorrow?” Jaskier asked. 

“I have a feeling your lips will be just as tempting tomorrow.”

“But you never…”

Geralt’s hands settled back onto Jaskier’s hips, as he cocked his head slightly. 

“I never considered it before; didn’t think it was a possibility.”

“But I… Geralt!”

“Mmm.” Geralt was back to staring at Jaskier’s lips. 

“I think I was quite obvious, on multiple occasions–”

“Didn’t think you were serious.”

Jaskier spluttered, and Geralt hummed again, leaning in to stop him with his lips. 

“Mmph.” 

Jaskier thought about protesting but quickly decided it could wait until later. He found he was no longer capable of resisting the pull of what he’d yearned for for years. He let himself melt into Geralt’s strong arms, under his warm mouth. Followed him with a stumble as Geralt started slowly backing down the hallway towards their rooms. 

Geralt made to open Jaskier’s door but Jaskier pushed him past it, remembering the state he’d left his room in when he headed out to meet Valdo. They stopped inside Geralt’s bedroom, Geralt’s hands under the hem of Jaskier’s shirt, stroking his back, and Jaskier’s hands on Geralt’s belt buckle. Jaskier’s fingers had a faint tremble, and Geralt’s breath was becoming harsher.

“Geralt, are–”

“Listen, what—”

They both stopped and shared a shaky smile.

“What if we get comfortable and just…snuggle?” Geralt asked hesitantly. 

Jaskier grinned. “That sounds wonderful.”

They shucked off their socks, Jaskier pulled off his overly-tight jeans and Geralt removed his belt, then they crawled under the covers, carefully twining together again. Jaskier shortly snuggled in closer, tucking his head under Geralt’s chin, and Geralt reached up to comb through his hair.

“Is this real?” Jaskier whispered.

“Well, your toes against my thigh are freezing, so I’m going to go with yes,” Geralt answered with a smirk. Jaskier snorted, then nuzzled at Geralt’s throat. 

“Will you still be here tomorrow morning?” Jaskier whispered.

“Itis my bed.”

“Ge-ralt!”

“Hmm.” Geralt shifted and curled his body around Jaskier. “I promise.” 

“OK,” Jaskier answered sleepily, stifling a yawn.

“If you snore, though, I’m smothering you with a pillow.”

“I do not–”

“You do, especially when you’ve been drinking.”

Jaskier huffed indignantly but was too tired to come up with a retort. 

Jaskier’s breathing soon evened out, and then he was softly snuffling into Geralt’s skin. Geralt smiled. It felt right, having Jaskier in his arms, more so than anything had in a long time. He may not have had the words, but he knew that what he wanted was right here. 

–

This came from prompt writing with @mamamichine. Prompts were: constant motion; the cleaner; spice rack; true friendship; the help. This won’t be a fanfic, I said! Then quickly realised, “Ok but actually it is totally Jask trying to bake.” Then Ciri just showed up, because I’m not in charge here - thanks Ciri, love having you here! I thought this was a 1-1,500 word silly fic of them baking, but here we are. Also Valdo showed up. I dunno throws up hands. Thanks to @newnamesamecharlotte,@lohrendrell,@major-trouble&@bastardofmothman for your eyes/beta’ing/encouragement 

-

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Geraskier modern au holiday angst fic, as threatenedpromised!

Geralt and Jaskier were fuck buddies for 3 years, but now haven’t spoken for another 3. Until…
Set at a New Years party, featuring Yennefer friendships and, well, angst, with happy ending. 3,891 words

Thanks to @soundslikepenance for spitballing with me and helping sort it out! <3 

Songs:
You’re So Vain by Carly Simon
Winter Song by Sara Bareilles & Ingrid Michaelson 

-

Geralt followed Yennefer through the doors into the gala. He’d never enjoyed parties, let alone grand events like this, unlike–well, he hadn’t been to a party in years.

Yennefer attended the prestigious New Years Eve gala every year for work, and Geralt had unwillingly been roped into being her date this year. As they entered, the noise hit him like a wall. People laughing and chatting, glasses clinking. The room was filled with well-dressed, wealthy, attractive people, and Geralt felt wildly out of place and uncomfortable. He tugged at the bottom of his suit jacket, then reached to tug at his tie before Yennefer caught his arm.

“Stop that, would you? You look very handsome.”

“I look like a monkey stuffed into a suit. How do people wear these every day? This is hell.”

Yennefer rolled her eyes, emerald eyeshadow shining in the light. 

“Don’t be ridiculous. I wouldn’t bring you if you didn’t look good on my arm, and I wouldn’t dress you in anything that didn’t make you shine.”

Geralt shifted uncomfortably on his feet. His beard had been neatly trimmed, his hair pulled back in a tidy ponytail, showcasing his undercut. His hair felt too tight, he could already feel a headache coming on, and his tie was choking him. The suit jacket that Yennefer had had tailored for him seemed to pull across his shoulders. He chewed at his lips and fisted his hands, resisting the urge to tear it all off. 

“I don’t know why I have to be here,” he grumbled. 

“I needed a date, and you had nothing better to do. And you make good arm candy, if you’d stop shuffling around and grimacing.”

“Whyme, Yen. You know I hate things like this. Why not Triss, or Eskel, or—” 

“Stop complaining. Here, have a drink.” Yennefer grabbed two champagne flutes off a tray as a server passed them by, handing one to Geralt.

He followed behind Yennefer as she schmoozed with clients and co-workers, standing obediently beside her, politely nodding and smiling when it seemed to be required. About half an hour after they had arrived, the entertainment was announced.

“Beautiful people and wretched dogs, please put your hands together for tonight’s entertainment, the Continent’s heartthrob, Dandelion the Bard!”

Whoops and cheers erupted from the crowd as dread fell over Geralt like a bucket of ice water. Jaskier. Jaskier was going to be singing tonight. Jaskier, whom he hadn’t seen since the holiday season three years ago, when Geralt had possibly ruined the best thing he had in his life, before he had the sense to realize it. 

The backup band took the stage.

“Yen, what the fuck?”

“What?” she asked, turning wide purple eyes on him, feigning innocence. 

“Did you know he would be playing tonight? Is this why I’m here?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“I’ve been able to tell when you’re lying for years now, Yen. And it’s like you’re not even trying to be convincing right now.”

“Fine. I suggested Jaskier as the entertainment.”

Geralt scowled at her. “What are you trying to accomplish with this?”

“He’s a great performer, and it pays exceedingly well. I was doing him a favour.” She shrugged.

“And that’s it?”

“Should there be more?”

Jaskier had taken the stage to applause and cat-calls, and before Geralt could come up with a retort, the first song started, one of Dandelion the Bard’s most popular hits on the radio that year. His eyes caught on Geralt partway into the song, and an expression flitted across his face that Geralt couldn’t quite parse before it was gone again and his performance mask was firmly back in place. When the first song was over, Jaskier murmured to the musicians for a moment before the next started.

“Son of a gun. You walked into the party like you were walking onto a yacht,” Jaskier sang accusingly, staring straight at Geralt. Staring straight into his soul, Geralt felt. He rubbed at the back of his neck.

They had been sleeping together for three years, before that went to shit, and they hadn’t seen each-other for the three years since. Geralt had been convinced it didn’t matter, at first. He’d hardly even considered Jaskier a friend. The man was loud, restless, and flighty. They’d had sex when they were drunk or bored; they’d had a lot of sex, but it hadn’t meant anything. Or so he’d thought, at the time.

They’d fucked in bathroom stalls after Jaskier’s shows in shitty bars where no-one cared he was playing, on Geralt’s couch with their sweats on like horny teenagers, on the beach (only once, that was a mistake - sand for days). They’d fucked daily the weeks that Geralt’s gym was closed for renos, in Jaskier’s bed when he had crumpled a notebook’s-worth of pages trying to write a song, once in the hallway outside of Jaskier’s apartment, against the wall. Angry sex when Yennefer started dating Istredd, soft sex when Essi moved away for college. Waking up in each-other’s arms or beds had been as natural as not, after three years.

He’d known he was just one of many hookups to Jaskier, and that had been fine. He hadn’t had as many as Jaskier, but there had been a few others. A couple of late, drunken nights with Triss. One memorable night with Yennefer, which was perhaps the crux of the whole thing.

Jaskier sang a few more upbeat songs, and then seemed to deflate. The band left the stage, and Jaskier sat down at the piano, starting a quiet, melancholy tune, then joining it with his voice. Geralt stood transfixed, the rest of the room and chatter dying away until all he saw, all he heard was Jaskier and the piano. 

“They say that things just cannot grow, beneath the winter snow, or so I have been told,” Jaskier sang, full of feeling. “Is love alive? Is love alive?”

Geralt took in a shuddering breath, goosebumps running down his arms. He gave himself a shake. Get a hold of yourself, he urged himself. It had been three years. If all the emotion Jaskier was channeling was for someone, it surely wasn’t for him. They hadn’t even been dating. He’d told the man they weren’t even friends. His stomach clenched at the memory.

“This is my winter song. December never felt so wrong, ‘cause you’re not where you belong; inside my arms.”

Geralt’s ears were ringing faintly.

* two and a half years ago *

Geralt sat on his couch, brooding. He’d been doing a deep clean of his apartment, and that had come to a screeching halt when he had started to take the couch cushions off to vacuum it all and had found a pink guitar pick. He’d picked it up, stared at it for a good few minutes, replaced the couch cushion, and dropped back onto the couch, still staring at the piece of pink plastic. He flipped it over and over in his hand, as if it would reveal something to him, then picked up his phone. He scrolled through his contacts to the J’s, paused, then scrolled further down to the bottom.

“Geralt,” Yennefer said by way of greeting.

“Yen, I think I fucked up.”

“Pray, be more specific.”

“I was deep cleaning my apartment–”

“Geralt, you know I don’t do cleaning. If you want the name of the company I use–”

“No, Yen, I was cleaning the couch, and I found a guitar pick.” He could hear the sound of Yennefer’s nails tapping irritably against something on the other end of the line. “I, um, I think I… miss him.”

A long-suffering sigh came over the line. “Geralt, you are an idiot.”

“Thanks, Yen, glad we could have this chat–”

“Alright, alright. I’m listening.”

“I just, uh. It’s been really…quiet.”

“Isn’t that what you wanted?”

“I thought it was. But I…I miss the chatter. The humming as he ran his fingers through my hair, the singing in the shower.”

“This is literally the beginning of the list of annoying behaviour you dictated to me a year ago, Geralt.”

Silence buzzed along the line.

“I think you’re right,” he mumbled.

“I’m always right.”

“I’m an idiot.”

“It’s part of your charm.”

“Hmm.”

“Maybe you just need to get laid. When was the last time you–”

“With you.”

Stunned silence. “But that was– Geralt, honestly, how…”

“I haven’t been interested in anyone else.”

“Geralt, really, I thought I was clear–”

“I didn’t mean you.”

Another sigh. “Why don’t you call him, then?”

“I can’t, Yen.”

“I don’t see why not. You just called me.”

“After that fight… he doesn’t want to hear from me, Yen.”

“You don’t know that.”

“I’m fairly confident.”

“I don’t know why you called me when you aren’t going to listen to me. I have things to do, Geralt.”

Geralt sighed. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Alright. Goodbye, Geralt.”

-

“Yennefer.”

“Jaskier.”

“To what do I owe the dubious pleasure of this phone call?”

“Are you seeing anyone?”

“I beg your pardon?”

“Are you?”

“No offence, Yennefer, but I have no interest in that flavour of–”

“I don’t either, poptart, not in a thousand years.”

“Then why are you asking?”

“Geralt misses you.”

Jaskier scoffed. “I really don’t think so. Apparently we weren’t even friends. Three years spent loving someone to be dismissed as a fuck buddy and told to fuck off… Shit. Fuck. I didn’t say that. You didn’t hear that. Anyways, he has you now, so I really don’t see what need I could be fulfilling that’s now missing. Plenty of dick in the city if that’s what he’s after.”

Yennefer made a noise of exasperation. “Jaskier–”

“Lovely chatting with you darling, but I must be off.”

“Jaskier, please–”

“Got to go, left my cat on the stove. Ciao, darling.”

* the gala *

“My love a beacon in the night. My words will be your light, to carry you to me. Is love alive?”

From the way he was singing, someone had broken Jaskier’s heart. Geralt felt a wave of jealousy and anger at the thought. As if he had any right. That didn’t stop his heart from wishing the words were for him. 

The song ended, drawn out and haunting, the last note played fading into the quiet room. Jaskier looked morose. When the note had faded out, he stood slowly, giving the audience a half-hearted smile. 

“Thank you so much, you’ve been lovely. I’ll see you in half an hour for the second set,” he said before walking off-stage.

“Wonder who that was for,” Geralt murmured to Yennefer. She stared at him with narrowed eyes. 

“He hasn’t been with anyone,” she said.

“What?”

“He hasn’t been with anyone seriously since, well, you.”

“He was never withme.”

Yennefer rolled her eyes. “You know what I mean, Geralt.”

“But then, that song, the way he sang it…”

Yennefer arched a brow.

“There’s no way,” he said.

“And how would you know? Have you spoken with him, in all this time?”

“No,” he muttered, staring at his shoes.

“Maybe it’s time you did.”

“He won’t want to, Yen.”

She let out a noise of exasperation. “You won’t know until you try! Worst case scenario, you’re right. You come back here, drink more champagne, eat more appetizers, then I take you home, and nothing has changed.”

Geralt worried his lower lip. The idea of approaching Jaskier after all this time, after what they had last said to each-other… it was terrifying. But it didn’t look like Yennefer was going to let this go. And when he thought of how Jaskier had looked as he sang the song, and as he left the stage… it made him ache. Not that he felt there was anything he could do about it. His musings were interrupted by Yennefer. 

“He slipped out onto the back balcony. Take this,” she swiped another glass of champagne from a nearby tray and handed it to him, “and go find him.”

“Yen, I really don’t think–”

“I didn’t ask you to think. I told you to go.” She gave him a firm shove in the direction she had indicated. Geralt sighed and started making his way through the crowd.

He pushed out the door onto the balcony to find Jaskier leaning against the railing, a half-full glass of champagne in one hand. Jaskier turned when the door opened and raised an eyebrow. He looked tired. He offered no greeting, but he also didn’t immediately tell Geralt to get lost, so that was… something. Geralt walked over and leaned against the railing a few feet away.

“Good set,” Geralt offered.

“What are you doing here, Geralt?”

Geralt cleared his throat and looked out at the view. “Yen made me come. What are youdoing here?”

“Yenna asked me to. And it pays well. Verywell.”

“Good for you.”

“Quite. So, enjoying living the high life with your girlfriend? I always thought you hated parties, but maybe it was just that you hated going to them with me.”

“Ido hate parties. I—”

“So it was me, then. You’ll put up with them for her,” Jaskier said bitterly. “Even one like this, where you have to dress in a suit, which I know you hate, and it’s full of rich, snobby assholes, and—”

“Jask—”

“Geralt,don’t.” Jaskier wasn’t even sure what he was asking, only knew that he didn’t feel prepared for whatever conversation this might turn out to be.

“It isn’t like that.”

“Likewhat,exactly?”

“I’m here as her date, as company, but that’s all. She’s not my girlfriend. We aren’t together.”

Jaskier rolled his eyes. “Whatever.”

“Yen and I… we were never anything. I mean, we’re friends. Good friends. But nothing more. It was only the one time.”

“Geralt, honestly, I don’t care.”

“I just thought… you should know.”

“What difference does it make?”

Geralt shrugged miserably. He knew he was doing a shit job of this, but he was at a loss as to what he should say or do. He stared out at the scenery again, before stealing a glance back at Jaskier. The singer had come straight outside from the stage, and was dressed only in his high-waisted pants and a white silk blouse, frills at the neckline (which was unbuttoned, so that hadn’t changed) and the wrists. He shivered as a winter breeze blew through, and Geralt straightened up, putting his champagne down on the railing.

“Here,” he said, shrugging out of his suit jacket and reaching out to drape it over Jaskier, before thinking better of it and pulling back a bit, offering it to Jaskier to take.

“I’m fine,” Jaskier protested unconvincingly.

“I don’t want to wear the damn thing anyways, and I know you’re freezing. Just wear it until you go inside.”

Jaskier hesitated, then took the jacket and slung it over his shoulders.

“Thanks,” he murmured.

“No problem.”

Geralt’s scent wafted up from the jacket and hit Jaskier’s nose like a punch. Suddenly he was thrown three years back.

* three years ago *

“You slept with Yennefer?!” Jaskier demanded incredulously. 

Geralt shrugged. “What of it? You sleep with someone new every week. We used protection.”

“That–that isn’t–I mean I should hope so, Geralt, but that isn’t the issue.”

Geralt scowled at him. “What exactly is the issue, Jaskier?”

“Theissue is–” Jaskier paused. The issue is that I’m in love with you. But he couldn’t say that. They were strictly friends with benefits, he had no claim on Geralt, no say in who else he slept with, as long as they were following the rules set out and communicating. “The issue is that you have a crush on her, and you’ve been spending all your free time with her lately, and, so, you can’t just sleep with her like it’s nothing!”

Geralt furrowed his brow further. “Why the hell not?”

“Aha! So you don’t deny it!”

“Why should I? And what does it matter to you?”

“Well, Geralt, as your best friend–”

“You’re not my best friend.”

Jaskier sputtered. “Oh! Really!”

“Really.” Geralt crossed his arms, feeling belligerent. 

“Well, do tell, Geralt, what are we, then?”

“Fuck buddies.”

“And, and that’s it, then? Just a quick shag when you’ve got an itch to scratch?”

“Yes?”

“Right, well, what a fool I’ve been, hmm? Bringing you soup when you’re sick, and helping with gum-in-hair emergencies–”

“It was yourgum,” Geralt interrupted.

Jaskier continued like he hadn’t heard him. “And coming over when you’re moping and depressed to watch horror movies, and gods, well, once a fool, always a fool, hmm?”

“Oh,fuck off, Jaskier.”

Jaskier reeled back as if he’d been hit. So this was it, then. Three years of pining and caring, some mind-blowing sex, and he was going to be left by the wayside for a gorgeous, purple-eyed witch. Three years of being in love with the man he counted as his best friend, and he didn’t even rank above fuck buddy. It seemed he hadn’t gotten any smarter with age, but he knew enough to cut his losses. He knew when he wasn’t wanted, knew better than to stay past that point. 

“Right! Well, maybe I will! Just a fuck buddy, no great loss! I hope you and Yennefer are very happy together.”

He didn’t, really. He hoped they tore each-other apart. He knew that was awful. He loved Geralt, and he had admired Yennefer. But he was miserable, and bitter, and he truly couldn’t stand the thought of them being happy together. 

“Maybe we will be,” Geralt spat back, arms crossed, looking disgusted and vicious. Well. That was that, then.

“See you around, Geralt.”

Jaskier had stormed out of Geralt’s apartment, down towards the street, then stopped and dropped down onto the front steps, wondering what the fuck he had just done. Sure, he was sleeping with plenty of people, but no-one else really meant anything. Geralt was the only constant, the only one that mattered. Or he had been. Jaskier considered going back up, but what would he say? No. He wasn’t that pathetic. Three years was enough. Time to cut his losses. He sighed and pulled himself up, trudging away towards the bus stop.

* the gala *

“I miss you,” Geralt whispered.

“What?” Jaskier asked, startled out of his reminiscing. 

Geralt wouldn’t meet his eyes. “I know I have no right, but I miss you. I fucked up. You… I didn’t realize what I had, how I felt for you, until you were gone. I still wake up sometimes, reaching for you…”

Jaskier stared at him, wide-eyed and stunned. 

Geralt cursed under his breath. “I know it’s too late. But for what it’s worth, I’m sorry. I took you for granted.”

Jaskier stared at him for another moment. “Is this because no-one brings you soup when you’re sick now?” He gave a wry smile, but his eyes stayed sad.

Geralt chuckled. “No.”

“Yenna do that for you now?”

“No.”

“Hmm.” Jaskier fiddled with a button on the jacket. “What if you weren’t too late?”

“What?”

“What if you weren’t too late? What would that mean? What would you be hoping for?”

“Another chance? To try again, to do it right.”

Jaskier mulled that over in silence for a minute. 

“It was about you. The song,” he murmured.

“I know.”

“They both were. Well, they all are, really. Pathetic, after three years.” Jaskier looked up at the ceiling, blinking rapidly.

“Not pathetic, but more than I deserve.” Geralt rolled his shoulders. “I think this is why I’m here. Why we’re both here, really. No offense. Yen does love your music, but–”

“No, you’re right. I was pretty sure it wasn’t just a gig. Can’t say I really expected this, though.”

“Is it? Too late, that is.”

Jaskier’s lips twitched upwards. “My love a beacon in the night. My words will be your light, to carry you to me,” he whispered softly.

“Is love alive?” Geralt asked quietly back.

“It might be, under all the snow.” Jaskier looked at him with shining eyes, then took a tentative step forwards, which Geralt matched. 

“Can I…?” Geralt asked, reaching his arms out slowly. Jaskier sucked in a shaky breath, then stepped into his embrace. Geralt pulled him in, holding him close, squeezing when the emotions overwhelmed him. Jaskier’s breath grew ragged and he buried his face in Geralt’s neck, damp lashes pressed against warm skin.

“Where have you been for three years?” Jaskier demanded fiercely, not removing his face from Geralt’s neck.

“Wallowing in my stupidity. I didn’t think you’d want to hear from me.”

Jaskier wrapped his arms around Geralt, gripping his fingers into the back of his shirt.

“It was always only you, for me. You were the only one that mattered.”

“I didn’t know what I had until I lost it. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, Jaskier.” Geralt buried his face in Jaskier’s hair, breathing in the still-familiar scent, grounding himself. 

“If we try again… If you hurt me again, I’ll… well, I’ll tell Yennefer, and she’ll do something terrible to you!”

Geralt chuckled into his hair. “I can agree to those terms.”

Jaskier started to pull back a touch when his phone buzzed in his pocket, jarring him back to reality. He pulled it out of his pocket and checked the screen.

“I have to be back out there in a few minutes,” he said, tapping off the alarm, pulling out of Geralt’s arms and wiping at his eyes. “Do you have plans at midnight?” he asked with a wobbly smile.

“I’m here and available,” Geralt rumbled.

“Lovely. Come up and find me at the end of my set?”

“It’s a date.”

“Isit?”

“If you like.”

Jaskier cocked his head. “Maybe I do. I’ll see you soon, Geralt.”

“Sure.” Geralt watched him walk to the doors, making no move to retrieve his jacket. He hoped not to get it back until Yen demanded it. “And Jask,” he called out as the other reached for the door.

“Yeah?” Jaskier asked as he turned back.

“I listened to all your songs. They’re good.”

“Thank you. I’d hoped you might.”

“It was…nice, to still hear your voice.”

Jaskier gave him a lopsided smile. “Stop making me soppy, I have to go perform.”

Geralt smirked. “My apologies. I’ll save the rest for later then.”

“There’s more?!”

Geralt shrugged with a smile, eyes gone soft.

“Til later then.”

“Til later.”

Further into the night, the countdown found them at the edge of the crowd, by the side of the stage. Jaskier’s face was flushed from performing, hair slightly sweaty, yet still managing to look artfully tousled. Geralt’s shirtsleeves were rolled up, his jacket stashed back with Jaskier’s things.

“Five!”

“I choose you, Jaskier. If you’ll have me.”

“Four!”

Jaskier cocked his head. “All of you?”

“Three!”

“All yours. I can’t promise perfection, but–”

“Two!”

“I’ll try to show how much you mean to me–”

“One!”

“Every day–”

Jaskier grabbed his collar and yanked him in, pressing a fierce kiss to his lips. It tasted like champagne, yearning, and hope.

Neither of them was aware of Yennefer, a ways behind them, smiling like the cat that got the cream.

-

Thanks to @lohrendrell&@veritasrose for beta’ing/helping me nitpick

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Rose and Bramble- Eskel/Rose the succubus: Little bit of fluff with no smut. Succubi are people too haha. Eskel visits his succubus before winter takes over, and they are soft. 705 words

Mistletoe & Lights- Renfri/Yennefer: Holiday fluff. 302 words

Holiday Sparks - Renfri/Yennefer: Yennefer is relatively new to town. Maybe she can heat up the holidays with the hot welder mechanic in town. 2,432 words

Keep Me Warm- Aiden/Lambert: Lambert & Aiden are sleeping outside along the Path and it’s cold, guess they’ll have to get close to stay warm. Star-gazing and winter smooches. 386 words
(not actually a holiday fic but it’s the closest I’ve got for lambden, as a winter fic)

Challah from the Heart - Geralt/Jaskier: Geralt and Jaskier established relationship, their first Hanukkah together, light domestic holiday fluff. 533 words

For You, My Friend, Always- Geralt & Jaskier: Aro Jaskier, roommates during the holiday season. Aro feels during the holidays and best friend support. 415 words

Tinsel- Geralt/Jaskier: Established relationship, the way Jaskier decorates the tree makes Geralt cringe. Cute holiday fluff. 515 words

The Best Baby That I Ever Had - Geralt/Jaskier: The one where I made the boys cry for the holidays. It ends happy ok. Sorry not sorry. Blame the Song “River.” Get your tissues. 1,481 words

Found the Creek - Yule fluff, Aiden’s prank derails Lambert’s plans, the gang’s all there. 1,670 words

• Also all on AO3, find them in this series.
  
• I tag holiday fic reblogs on my main @stinastar with #ho ho holidays