#witcher fanfic
And also here: happy (belated) birthday @dani-dandelino! <3
Five times Geralt and Jaskier nearly kiss and one time they do - Summer Fair edition, 2,364 words, modern au, pining idiot roommates
CW: none, just fluff
-
“Oh, come on Geralt, please,” Jaskier whined and looked at him with pleading eyes and an oscar-worthy pout. Triss had cancelled their plan of going to the summer fair last minute and now Jaskier was pestering Geralt to come with him instead.
“No,” Geralt said and crossed his arms. He knew (as well as Jaskier did) that he would give in eventually. But not too easily - he had a reputation to uphold.
“Pleeeease,” Jaskier said, looking down to his shoes and then slowly up through his lashes. Fuck, it was hard not to give in right away when Jaskier looked at him like that. And his pout looked so kissable…Fuck, fuck fuck. Geralt shook his head to get these inappropriate thoughts about his roommate out of his head, but Jaskier interpreted it as another refusal. “Just for an hour, please? For me, your best friend in the whole wide world?”
Geralt sighed. He was thinking about telling him that Roach was his best friend, but instead he rolled his eyes and clucked his tongue. “Okay, okay!” He raised his hands in defeat. “I’ll go with you, but only for an hour.”
1.
Jaskier grabbed Geralt’s hand and pulled him through the crowd towards a stand with a giant ice cream cone on top. “We have to try this!”
He had been a giddy ball of excitement since Geralt had accepted to accompany him.
And now they were at the summer fair, the air smelled sweet in an intoxicating mix of cotton candy, popcorn and roasted almonds and the sun was shining almost as bright as Jaskier’s smile.
Jaskier bought them each a cone with a huge swirl of soft serve and sprinkles on top: chocolate for Geralt and rainbow sprinkles for himself. Geralt eyed Jaskier from the side as they ate their ice cream. The wind had tousled Jaskier’s brown hair even more than usual and in the sunshine it had a golden glint to it. He looked…beautiful… breathtakingly beautiful and Geralt had to stop thinking these things. Fuck.
Jaskier looked up at him and grinned, which made something in Geralt’s gut flutter. Double fuck.
“You’ve got something on your lip.” Jaskier gestured at his own face. Geralt wiped his mouth but Jaskier grinned a bit wider and shook his head. “No, on the other side…wait, let me help.”
He took a step towards Geralt and laid his hand on his cheek. Geralt inhaled deeply as he felt Jaskier’s thumb on the corner of his mouth, gently wiping away the ice cream. Did Jaskier let his thumb linger a moment longer than necessary?
But when Geralt made a step towards him, Jaskier jumped back as his own ice cream fell from the cone he was still holding.
“Fucking cock, shit shit shit,” Jaskier shouted and was scowled at by parents who dragged their kids out of earshot.
2.
Jaskier was pressed to Geralt’s side. “Why did you talk me into this stupid haunted ride when you have your eyes closed the whole damn time?” Geralt grunted. They were sitting in a small carriage of the Spooooooook House. It had stopped for the moment to let new people get in a few carriages behind them. “I didn’t know it was so scary,” Jaskier said, voice muffled from where he had pressed his face against Geralt’s shoulder.
Geralt looked around the darkened room at the cheap halloween decoration: fake spiderwebs and giant neon colored spiders, a plastic skeleton that was automatically triggered to fall down when a carriage passed by and huge white sheets hanging from the ceiling that were supposed to look like ghosts.
He felt Jaskier flinch when a shrill laugh sounded from speakers above them. “Could you maybe hug me?” Jaskier asked, his voice sounding small and pleading. “There is nothing to be scared of,” Geralt grumbled but pulled Jaskier to his side. And to be honest, it was quite nice to feel Jaskier this close, his hand fisted in Geralt’s jacket and face pressed in the crook of his neck. Geralt started to rub Jaskier’s arm soothingly.
Slowly Jaskier lifted his head and looked at Geralt with wide eyes and eyebrows drawn together. He was focussing his gaze on Geralt as if he was the only safe point. Without thinking about it Geralt lifted his hand and brushed a strand of brown curls behind Jaskier’s ear. Geralt’s eyes slid down to Jaskier’s lips that were slightly parted.
With a jerk the carriage started to move forward and Jaskier pressed his face once more into Geralt’s shoulder, not moving till it was their turn to climb out of the carriage.
3.
They were standing in line to get fries. It had gotten really crowded and they stood close together. “Oh look!” Jaskier pointed down the pathway. “They’ve got balloons.” Geralt could indeed see a person holding what looked like a ridiculously large bouquet of colorful balloons in shapes of different cartoon characters.
“I think I want the Pumbaa one,” Jaskier said with an excited giggle. He tilted his head and Geralt had the urge to lean forward and place a kiss on his cheek. “What the fuck is a Pumbaa?” Geralt asked instead and looked away from Jaskier. Jaskier bumped his shoulder into Geralt, “oh come one, don’t tell you forgot the best character of the lion king!”
Geralt sighed but tried to remember. They had watched the film together a month ago. Jaskier had pestered him for weeks, told him that it was his favorite movie and that Geralt really had to watch it. “Is it the meerkat?” he asked after a moment.
Jaskier had been particularly cuddly on that evening and Geralt could remember the comforting weight of Jaskier leaning against him, the softness of his hair pressed to Geralt’s cheek and how lovely it had smelled of his shampoo. But he couldn’t remember a damn thing about the movie.
Jaskier giggled once more and said, “no, that is Timon. Pumbaa is his friend, the warthog.” “Hmm….yes of course, the warthog,” he replied and Jaskier bumped his shoulder into Geralt’s once more. “Sure you don’t want a dinosaur?” Geralt pointed to the bundle of balloons that had turned in the wind. A green stegosaurus was now visible and Geralt knew that Jaskier loved dinosaurs at least as much as the lion king.
“Hmm…now you say it…it is a hard choice!” Jaskier scratched the back of his neck.
In the next moment someone shoved into him and he stumbled into Geralt who caught him around the waist, pulling him close. Jaskier’s face was all of a sudden directly in front of Geralt’s, just a breath away.
“Oi, the queue moved on, are you still waiting in line or just ogling each other?”
Geralt released Jaskier and took a quick step away.
4.
“Close your eyes, I’ve got a surprise!” Geralt heard Jaskier call from behind. “No, don’t turn around, just close your eyes.” A moment later Jaskier was behind him and asked into his ear, “are your eyes closed?”
“No,” Geralt murmured, “you know I hate surprises.” But he did not turn around. So Jaskier took a step closer, rested his chin on Geralt’s shoulder from behind and leaned his chest against his back.
“Oh, I forgot, sorry,” he said. Geralt shrugged with his unoccupied shoulder and asked “What is the surprise?”
Jaskier hummed and Geralt could feel the vibration against his back, an unexpectedly pleasant sensation and he leaned into him just a tiny fraction.
Then Jaskier said, “I bought cotton candy. Do you think you could guess the flavor?”
“There is flavored cotton candy?”
Jaskier giggled and Geralt found it even better than his humming.”Yes and I bought the weirdest one I could find.”
“Mh…okay.” Geralt said. He did not really want to taste the cotton candy but he wanted to stay like this for a while, Jaskier pressed to his back, his warm breath tickling the sensitive skin on his neck.
“Open your mouth,” Jaskier said.
He reached around him and Geralt opened his mouth. The soft cotton candy instantly melted on his tongue but he had no idea what this flavor was supposed to be.
“I have no fucking clue what this is,” he said eventually. Jaskier laughed, peeled himself off Geralt and stepped around him. The cotton candy was an unnatural shade of blue and Geralt frowned. Jaskier was grinning and said, “it’s called ‘smurf’.”
“How the fuck does a smurf taste?”
“Like this?” Jaskier wiggled the cotton candy. Geralt ripped a bit off and reached over. Jaskier looked startled for a second before he slowly opened his mouth. Geralt’s fingers brushed Jaskier’s lips and Jaskier closed his mouth faster than he had anticipated (or did his fingers linger too long?).
A moment later Jaskier coughed and let the cotton candy drop to the ground.
“Fuck, this is disgusting!”
5.
Jaskier pointed at a stand nearby and jumped up and down excitedly. “Look, catch-a-duck!” He beamed not unlike the children surrounding the stand and Geralt sighed. “Jaskier, this is for kids.”
“Nonsense,” he replied and pulled Geralt along.
Geralt was always amazed how at ease and natural Jaskier looked in even the weirdest circumstances. An adult man with a child-sized neon-green plastic fishing rod with a magnet at the end of the line should look ridiculous - but not Jaskier. He was laughing at something the young man in the stand had said and a sting of something that was definitely not jealousy made his heart contract painfully for a second.
But then Jaskier turned to Geralt and smiled at him and his chest felt tight for another reason. Geralt nodded and Jaskier turned back to the horde of colorful plastic ducks with magnets glued to their heads that swam in the basin surrounding the stall. His face was scrunched in concentration now and Geralt could see the pink tip of Jaskier’s tongue poke out between his lips. How could a grown man with a fuck ton of hair on his chest look so unreasonably adorable?
When Jaskier had managed to fish two blue ducks he called, “Geralt, can you rub my back for luck?”
“Wha..?”
“Don’t ask, just do it,” Jaskier interrupted him. Geralt sighed and reached over, placing his hand between Jaskier’s shoulder blades. He felt him breathe in deeply and he planted his hand a bit more firmly, not pushing but letting him know he was there.
And a moment later Jaskier shrieked excitedly as he fished out a third blue duck. The stallholder took the ducks and rod from him and Jaskier turned around, hugged Geralt and pressed a kiss to his cheek. Geralt could feel a blush creeping up his neck when Jaskier leaned back a fraction to look him in the eyes, arms still wrapped around him. “Thank you,” Jaskier said, so close that Geralt could feel his warm breath on his face.
“What reward do you want?” the stallholder asked a little too loud. Jaskier sighed, let go of Geralt and selected a teddy bear holding a heart.
+1
Jaskier wiggled his eyebrows and asked, “what do you say?”
Geralt snorted, “about what?”
“My fishing skills.”
Geralt snickered and replied, “it’s a game designed for four-year-olds.”
Jaskier huffed, hugged the teddy bear to his chest and said, “I’ll better keep you for myself and not give you to mister grumpy-pants here.” Geralt rolled his eyes but blushed a little at the thought of Jaskier giving him a bear holding a fucking heart.
As the sun descended, painting the sky pink, the fair got more and more crowded. The promised hour was long over but Geralt had forgotten about it. The neon lamps on the stalls and carousels gave their best to attract customers like flowers attracting bees. Geralt and Jaskier let themselves be steered by the flow of people over the fair but when they nearly got seperated, Jaskier grabbed Geralt’s hand and interlaced their fingers.
When they joined the queue for the Ferris Wheel, neither of them let go - or acknowledged that they were practically holding hands, even though Geralt was quite aware of Jaskier’s hand in his. He just hoped that his palm was not too sweaty and stole glances from the corner of his eye at Jaskier. Jaskier was still clutching the teddy bear to his chest and looked happy and content and a warm feeling washed over Geralt.
They got a carriage for themselves and when the Ferris Wheel started to move, lifting them slowly into the night sky, Jaskier looked down as the fair shrank under their feet and said, “oh, it’s beautiful!” Geralt looked at him and felt like in a bad romance novel because he wanted to agree, but not regarding the fair below them.
The Wheel stopped when they were on top. The wind was much stronger up here and he felt Jaskier shiver, so Geralt wrapped his arms around him.
“Here,” Jaskier said, “you hold little Geralt for a while.” He pushed the teddy into Geralt’s hands.
“Little Geralt?” Geralt asked with a raised eyebrow and Jaskier giggled, pressing closer to Geralt.
“Can I tell you a secret?” Jaskier asked after a moment.
“Of course,” Geralt replied.
Jaskier stayed silent for another moment before he said, “I…wanted to kiss you at least five times today.”
Something cold washed over Geralt and he tried to swallow but his throat was too dry.
“I…what?”
Jaskier leaned away to look at him, Geralt’s arm still awkwardly around him.
“Kiss you,” Jaskier repeated and his eyes dropped to Geralt’s mouth.
“Umm….” Geralt’s thoughts were racing and he wasn’t sure if this was some kind of fever dream. Maybe he had fallen off the Ferris Wheel and lay on a coma?
Fuck it. “We could do it now,” he said after a moment, “kiss?”
His racing thoughts stopped suddenly when he felt Jaskier’s warm hand on his cheek. And the next moment they were kissing. When the Ferris Wheel started to move again Geralt broke the kiss, but Jaskier kept close and said, “oh no, not this time.” Geralt smiled and pulled him in for another kiss.
-
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okay but witchers at kaer morhen doing the pet thing of just following you quietly from room to room. not to interact. not to make noise. just to follow and hang out.
and like jaskier is flattered but also a little worried bc is he not??? trusted?? is this a signal???
is it a witcher thing?? should he also be following THEM around???
and when he brings it up none of them have ANY idea what he’s talking about bc they don’t even think about it. it’s not even a thought. it’s just “oh bard is moving rooms,” and they just pack up and follow and then continue doing what they were doing before.
the chair creaked precariously as jaskier put the front two legs back down on the flagstones and he winced, immediately looking around the room at the rest of its inhabitants.
lambert didnt even flinch at the sound from where he lounged by the fire, reading a book with one hand and lazily toying with a dagger in the other.
eskel had been writing something at the other table, but had petered out to sketching and doodling the last time jaskier had looked over at him.
geralt and vesimir seemed to be inspecting geralt’s gear; doing that mildly worrisome witcher thing where they didn’t speak a word to each other and yet carried a full conversation.
jaskier had been trying his best not to disturb everyone, immediately, all at once, but it was getting increasingly more difficult with how the wolves seemed to puddle around him as the day wore on.
he found himself thirsty and in want of his lute to give the new lyrics he’d penned a whirl, so he ever-so-carefully slid back his chair and crept into the hall.
to each of their ears, each footfall may as well been a klaxon and jaskier knew it, but the effort was what counted, right?
lambert always found him first.
the first couple of times, it had been worrisome. the witcher seemed to be keeping an eye on him, never fully out of jaskier’s sight. jaskier conceded that he was in their home, after all, and he had shivered at what had happened the last time humans had been within those halls.
so where jaskier puttered, there did lambert. quietly, with nary a stray glance in jaskier’s direction. almost as if it was lambert who had decided he’d like a drink and found jaskier already slaking his thirst by surprise.
eskel usually came after, bumping shoulders with whoever had already wandered in, offering soft conversation if the other would entertain him.
geralt would usually be last, save the mercurial vesimir. he would almost always scare the sacred shit out of jaskier; a chair being occupied between glances, a log being prodded in the fire without jaskier even seeing the door open.
if jaskier caught his eye, though, he always looked guilty. well, as guilty as geralt ever looked anything, which was minimally and predominantly diagnosed in the way his jaw was set.
in the library, it was one thing. there were couches and chairs and tables and rugs and vaulted ceilings and shelves to spread them out a bit.
shoulder to shoulder, each sipping ale in what was possibly the most agonising silence in jaskier’s short life, it was an entirely different beast.
“so,” jaskier said, popping his lips and keeping his eyes on the counter. “what’s all this, then?”
“the kitchen.” lambert replied, levelling him with a stare that informed him that lambert thought him quite dull. “tell me you haven’t seen one before. go on.”
“not the kitchen,” jaskier gasped, putting a hand to his face and pinching the bridge of his nose. aaand, no! he refusedto acknowledge the smug look on geralt’s face. jaskier would never say it aloud, but he held a little more sympathy for the stoic witcher for entertaining all of his own wiseassery. “the…” he waved a hand at the four of them. “the. clumping.”
“sounds contagious,” eskel grunted, mouth hooking into a clever grin.
“bastard.” jaskier declared without any heat, pointing one finger into the other man’s shoulder. “no, it’s just… why are you lot following me around like pup— ah.”
“no,” geralt immediately replied, looking very much like he’d been asked to drink a goblet of bees.
“yes,” jaskier countered. “is it a witcher thing? is it a wolf witcher thing? do you know any others? do they,” he made a little walking motion with his fingers. “follow? i wont say it,” he promised, though it did nothing to ease the put-upon expression on geralt’s face.
“if you didnt want company, you couldve asked,” lambert grouched, crossing his arms over his chest.
“no, that’s not it!” jaskier insisted. “i… well, i guess i actually like it quite a bit, honestly,” he admitted. “it’s… cosy. nice. i just thought i was in trouble, i suppose.”
“trouble?” eskel asked, furrowing his brow. “what sort of trouble?”
“well, i’m a stranger in your home,” jaskier answered, now feeling silly. “thought you wanted an eye kept on me or some such nonsense.”
“youre hardly a stranger,” eskel replied, knocking elbows with him. “you’ve kept geralt company for years. heard all about you,”
ah. they’d be revisiting that, and the nigh on imperceptible blush creeping over geralt’s chest told him that the witcher knew it as well as he did.
“heard you’re shite with a sword and we could give you a three-day head start and still catch up to you,” lambert snorted into his cup. eskel elbowed him, making him cough and glare over the rim.
“i suppose we should start on dinner,” eskel said after a beat. he took lambert by the arm and began to manoeuvre him out of the door, lambert spluttering all the while.
“we? who is this we you speak of? i know it’s not you volunteering me for things again. if we’re making dinner, why are we leaving the bloody kitchen? eskel!”
geralt remained still at the other end of the counter, as though jaskier could forget he was there if he tried hard enough.
“heard all about me, then?” geralt grimaced and jaskier waved the comment out of the air. “oh, i won’t prod you for all the gory details.” at the raise of an eyebrow, jaskier conceded geralt’s point. “yet.”
geralt seemed to be winding up for a few words about his feelings, so jaskier busied himself with getting another drink and gathering up the others’ discarded cups.
“you really can ask for some alone time, if we’re… too much,”
the phrase made jaskier stop in his tracks.
“no, darling, you lot could never be too much,” he said, rounding on geralt with a frown. “i’ve always had the market cornered on being too much, i’m afraid, and you’re hardly one of me,”
“good. one of you is enough,” geralt held a hand out as though he could physically stop the idea of more than one jaskier. “you actually meant it.”
“meant what?”
“when you said you liked it. liked us.”
“yeah. it feels like home,” jaskier watched that wash over geralt. watched him melt a little into it. watched the little smile play across his face. “why don’t we let eskel and lambert actually start on dinner? i have this idea for a song that i could run by you,”
this time, geralt and jaskier left together, close enough for their shoulders to touch.
jaskier wouldn’t have it any other way.
OK but geralt coming back to camp one evening and finding out that jaskier was playing dress up in his armor.
this one was oliver bait
“how on earth does he DO this?” geralt paused, holding the rabbits in one hand and his waterskin in the other. he heard jaskier grunt, shift mightily, and grunt again, and geralt considered wandering back out into the woods for several hours.
jaskier groaned and it was juuuust on the wrong side of wanton.
strike that. he considered wandering back out into the woods for the next several ever.
he wasnt sure if it said more about his relationship (or lack thereof) with jaskier or about his relationship with roach that he absolutely would not leave his horse behind.
he braced himself to see jaskier in his all-together, doing something heinous to his nether regions, but what he saw was…. somehow stranger.
jaskier stood near the fire, clothed, by the gods, but clothed in geralt’s armour.
partially. he hadnt managed to fully strap the breastplate on and he had the pauldrons on the wrong shoulders.
“jaskier,” he stated. asked? begged? “what?”
“ah-heh, heh, heh,” jaskier chuckled, high pitched and anxious. “you can only leave a man in the same room, er, woods, as this thing by himself for so long before he gets curious.”
geralt crouched by the fire to start cooking the rabbits and hummed at bard. for his part, he was making excellent headway, beyond his missing several buckles and also still having the pauldrons on backwards.
“come,” geralt sighed once the rabbits were taken care of.
jaskier froze, almost as if he suspected a trap, before shuffling toward geralt and holding his arms out to the sides.
deftly, geralt fixed jaskier’s mistakes.
“i thought it’d be bigger,” jaskier admitted.
“you’re not all that much slighter than i am,” geralt murmured, tapping jaskier on the side gingerly to get him to turn.
“i suppose not,” jaskier replied. “you seem so much bigger, though. even when you’re not in this thing,”
geralt didnt know how to respond to that.
jaskier had stopped talking, for once, but rather than relief, geralt simply felt awkward.
“it wouldnt chafe here and here if you had a shirt on like the ones i wear,” geralt told him. “and your waist is a bit higher. won’t be as flexible in it. bends at a different spot.”
“oh?” jaskier asked, giving geralt his arm for the bracers. “is that why all your shirts are long sleeved? and you tuck them in like that?”
“keeps packing light,” geralt said with a shrug. “these too?” he held up his grieves and raised an eyebrow at the bard.
jaskier nodded and wordlessly, geralt knelt and began strapping them to his legs.
“these are going to rub, too,” he warned. “thicker pants. i’m only a bit taller, but knees are at the wrong place,” he grunted standing back up.
jaskier looked down at himself and on a whim, geralt bent to pick up his swords. an unreadable expression crossed jaskier’s face as geralt looped them over his head and tightened the sheath down for him.
“thanks,” jaskier breathed, studying geralt for… something; the witcher couldn’t possibly fathom what.
seeing jaskier dressed in armour, even his own, even in the relative safety of their own camp… it felt fundamentally wrong. the wrongness of it all mustve shown on his face.
“what, are you worried i’d hurt it?” jaskier asked.
“no,” geralt said, pretending to busy himself with the rabbit. “i don’t like it.”
“the armour or me wearing it? you shouldve said, i’ll take it off, i don’t—” jaskier’s voice went very shrill before geralt waved him down with a glare.
“you wearing it, but not like that. i trust you with it. you dont belong in armour. youre made for… silks, your colours, your shiny, embroidered… this,” he held up the doublet he’d picked up by the fire. “not black. not swords.”
he tried to word it and say it as gently as possible, but jaskier’s heart skipped a beat anyway.
“oh.”
geralt didn’t try to squeeze more words out of himself. he knew his limits, and statistically speaking, the next words out of his mouth were either going to make the bard cry or laugh at him for the next several days and he wasnt in the mood for either.
jaskier moved around the clearing, squatting and making incredulous noises when he tried to bend over.
“i thought it would be heavier,” he said offhandedly. “im not sure if i like it either,” jaskier said dubiously, flicking at one of the pauldrons. “there’s not much between you and… the everything.”
“has to be light. i have to be fast.”
something like pain crossed jaskier’s face and geralt did a visual once-over, wondering if he’d tightened any of the straps too much and it was pinching.
“have you ever thought about what comes after the path?”
geralt frowned at the bard. he wasnt looking up from worrying one of the studs with his fingernail.
“nothing comes after, jaskier,” even to his own ears, his voice sounded hoarse. “we slow down and we die.”
the bard’s eyes snapped up, then, and if the rest of the evening hadn’t been so damn weird, geralt wouldnt have believed what he did next.
he didn’t say out loud what he clearly wanted to say so very badly.
it seemed dress up was over for the night, but geralt wasnt so blind as to miss the echoes of that evening in the bard.
in the next town, days later, rather than having to drag jaskier from bauble stalls and clothiers, geralt found him lingering in front of a leather worker’s shop, watching the young man at the work desk apply studs to a length of dark leather.
“they help, yeah. not just for decorating.” the young man said, eyeing the bard up with no small amount of confusion.
“and holes, tears, anything like that? how would somebody like me keep the thing in fine working order until we— er, he, finds somebody like you?” jaskier asked. geralt hovered in the doorway, just out of the pair’s direct line of sight, while jaskier took notes in hasty hand on how to repair ripped leather.
when geralt came woke up after a contract weeks later and the bard was fast asleep on the chair in the corner and cradling geralt’s breastplate to his chest, geralt saw that the tear the drowner made over his ribs had been tediously, neatly mended.
when jaskier got too far into his cups during a performance one night, months later, he laid a (wet. eugh.) kiss on the very same breastplate after geralt hauled him back to the room.
“and i love YOU, geralt’s armour,” he slurred, clearly the tail end of some tirade that geralt hadnt been able to parse in the din of the pub.
the bard looked up to geralt frozen, right in the middle of removing his own left boot, and staring crookedly at where he still coddled the armour.
“it keeps the beasties away from the you,” jaskier said, rapidly becoming quite upset.
“it does,” geralt assured him, finishing de-booting himself before moving on to the bard.
“the only think i thing i like more than my lute is the you.” jaskier hiccuped. “geralt! where’s my lute!”
“i have it,” geralt gently traded the lute for the breastplate, setting his armour back down in the corner. “lets get you to bed,”
jaskier allowed himself to be steered toward the bed and once geralt settled down next to him, the bard curled himself around him and put his hand over the scar from the drowner.
“stay fast for me, ‘kay?” he mumbled, already half asleep. “promise?”
“i… i promise.”
okay but geraskier modern au in which they first meet bc they live in the same building, and the landlord is showing up to fix something in geralt’s apartment that he didn’t expect, and they’re not supposed to have pets, so jaskier just opens his door to his VERY buff VERY handsome neighbor holding a VERY unimpressed-looking cat like, “hi we’re neighbors we’ve never spoken this is roach can i hide her here please” bc listen jaskier has good vibes and geralt’s desperate
there he goes again, geralt thought.
every morning, without fail, the neighbour guy says hello to roach.
in the beginning, geralt nearly came entirely unhinged. there he was, stepping out of the shower of his ground-floor apartment in a new city, and a shape of another human being stood straddling a bush directly in his front window. what had saved the stranger had been roach’s pleasant little chirrups at the shape and the realisation that the man was scritching at the window for roach to bat at.
okay. weird? yes. murderous? mmm. yet to be seen.
but the neighbour had done nothing but stop in geralt’s window each morning and make little coos at his cat.
the cat he really wasn’t supposed to have.
the cat the landlord was t-minus thirty minutes from running into thanks to a bum aircon unit.
all told…. the neighbour guy was his only option. he couldn’t very well put roach in the car. if the heat wasn’t a problem, he wouldn’t be in this mess in the first place. he didn’t have any friends in this city yet (he said yet like he hadn’t been there a year) and his family were miles and miles away.
so under the bed went roach’s personal effects and up went roach. almost as if she knew some absolute buffoonery was afoot, she very helpfully dug one paw’s worth of claw into geralt’s tit and made unconvincing hurgling sounds the entire way down the hall.
“he’s not going to be friends with you if you keep that up,” geralt muttered, reaching the stairs and putting a hand under roach’s bum just before she decided to turn into a liquid. “he’s really not going to be friends with you if you do that.”
geralt hadn’t been snooping. that’d be the hill he’d die on, if he had to.
he’d simply been… admiring the view one day, when he saw his cat-infatuated neighbour speaking animatedly on the phone with someone and pacing to and fro in front of his bedroom window. from that vantage, geralt had estimated that the apartment he was stood out front had to be his, but…
well, if it wasn’t, there wasn’t really a good explanation, was there?
he knocked.
“coming!” a voice trilled from inside. “you’re early, so i’m— you’re not pris— oh, hello, beautiful!”
“um. hi,” geralt replied. helpfully, roach yowled. “is that how you always answer the door?”
“i was expecting someone else, but now i’m curious.” the man replied.
“hello, curious. i’m geralt.” he hefted the cat slightly higher, wincing as she dug further into his tit and her upset sounds reached a peak. “this is roach, and we are about to ask you for a really weird favour,”
“i’m jaskier and i’m sold.”
“i didn’t even explain yet,”
“when someone this lovely shows up at your door, i think you’d be hard pressed to say no,”
geralt felt his face heat as he tried to prise roach’s claws out of him as delicately as possible.
“i— i’ve got to get back down,” he stammered. “landlord. aircon. you know,”
“i do now,” jaskier replied. “give me the baby.”
the baby, traitor, began purring the instant she was plonked into the other man’s waiting arms.
“won’t be long.” geralt promised heading back for the stairs. before he began his descent, he felt a little brave and turned back. “were you talking to me or the cat earlier?”
“the cat!” jaskier said decisively. “but you’re not so bad yourself.”
