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Geralt’s watching that baking program when he hears shouting from Jaskier’s apartment. He crinkles his brow and glances at the clock on the wall. 8:15. Jaskier keeps unusual hours and it’s not like Geralt’s judging, but at this time, Jaskier’s either already out of the building or asleep. Or at least, that’s what he suspects. Nevertheless, there is never any sound coming out of that apartment regardless of whether Jaskier’s there or not.
But now he can hear- Well, it sounds like panic. It makes Geralt put down his coffee and pause the show. Just in case. The door opens and shuts loudly and he can hear Jaskier frantic footsteps all the way down the stairs. He presses play and goes back to drinking his cup of coffee. At some point, he’ll have to call Yennefer back, but he’s putting it off.
There’s a few new text messages, two or three from Ciri and one from Eskel. Ciri’s supposed to be in class and so he ignores her complaints about being bored. He and Yen are paying a ridiculous amount for that prep school and for all her grumbling, she hadn’t taken him up on his offer to switch schools. Eskel’s is just a picture of Lambert covered in what Geralt is hoping is an iced coffee. ‘He pissed off Keira.’ Geralt huffs. Lambert is going to get his ass kicked one day. He just hopes he’s there when it happens.
There’s running now and Geralt frowns. Someone coming up the stairs and he swears he can hear Jaskier’s voice. A moment later and there’s knocking at his door.
“Geralt? Gods, I hope you’re awake.”
He finishes his coffee quickly and leaves it on the end table before he goes to open the door. Jaskier, for once, isn’t dressed in pajamas; he’s wearing a dark blue polo shirt with black trousers and dress shoes. He’s still wearing those ruby earrings and Geralt’s eyes keep moving between them and his throat. He’s got a messenger bag and his lute thrown over both of his shoulders.
“Hi! So I know you’re probably busy-“ Jaskier looks him up and down, taking in the sweatpants and worn t-shirt, and smiling just a bit. “Or maybe not. I know this is a lot to ask and I certainly-“
“Out with it, Jaskier.” Geralt folds his arms across his chest and leans against the door frame.
“Would you drive me to work? Please? My car battery is dead and I’m already running late.” Jaskier looks frazzled, clutching the strap of his messenger bag and fiddling with it. “Please? I’ll-“
“Let me get my keys.” He turns, waving Jaskier in. “Coffee’s fair game.”
“Thank you, but I like an ungodly amount of sugar in mine and I sincerely doubt you have even half of what I normally take.” Geralt grabs his keys and then hears Jaskier’s stomach grumble. Loudly.
“Poptarts in the cabinet. Strawberry, I think.” His shoes are in his room, tossed next to the closet; he tugs them on and finds Jaskier pulling out a pack. “Come on.”
He locks up and leads Jaskier downstairs to his beat up Jeep. Much like his apartment, it’s not exactly pretty, but it’s functional and Jaskier, again like with his apartment, makes no comment; he just climbs in the passenger seat with his bag and breakfast and buckles his seatbelt. He puts the lute on the floor in front of him. Geralt cranks the heat up because even though it doesn’t bother him, Jaskier is shivering and, for some reason, not wearing a jacket.
“Where am I dropping you off?” Geralt asks, stopping at the parking lot exit.
“The Kingfisher.” Jaskier manages to say even with his mouth full; the Kingfisher is a twenty minute drive at minimum, probably closer to thirty with the traffic. “I’m supposed to be there at 8:30. I’m just hoping my boss won’t take my head off or worse: he won’t let me perform later.”
“Shit happens. You late often?” He can’t help but notice the heeled boots Jaskier’s got on. They can’t be comfortable, but they look nice enough.
“No, but I’ve only been working there for a little while. The last thing I need is to burn any more bridges.” Jaskier curls up in the seat and finishes the Poptart. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but I didn’t think you were the type for sugary breakfast foods. I was picturing protein bars and protein shakes and . . .” He gestures, flailing his hand.
“They’re not mine. They’re my daughter’s.” Geralt pulls into the turn lane and flicks his turn signal on. When Jaskier doesn’t say anything, he looks over and sees Jaskier opening and closing his mouth. “Everything alright?”
“You have a daughter? You’ve never mentioned her.” He sounds a little hurt. “And I’ve never seen her.”
“She’s been with my ex on a trip. Just got back Sunday night. Yen was going to drop her off after school today.” Geralt stops at the next light, frowning, and then thumps his head on his seat, realizing his mistake. “Damn. I did this with Triss, too.”
“How long did it take for you to tell her?” He sounds a little less hurt now and when Geralt glances over, Jaskier just looks curious.
“Year and a half after I moved in.” Jaskier barks out a laugh and quickly covers his mouth. “And I didn’t tell her. I had just picked Ciri up from Yen’s and Triss saw us. Ciri told her and laughed for twenty minutes at the look on her face. Triss didn’t talk to me for a while.”
“That’s terrible.” Jaskier’s still laughing, wiping his eyes now. “Oh, that is so awful. I’ll have to rub it in her face the next time I see her.” He finally stops and clears his throat. “Am I allowed to ask about Yen? Your ex?”
“Not much to tell. It’s a boring story.” It doesn’t hurt as much to talk about anymore. It’s no longer an open wound. “In love, but wanted different things. She thought I was holding her back. Was too busy dealing with my own shit to see our life together was falling apart.” Geralt shrugs. “We’re okay as friends, but more than that? We weren’t good for each other.”
They pull up to the Kingfisher and Geralt parks the car. 8:40. Jaskier’s quiet as he gets himself together to go inside. “I think that’s the most you’ve ever said to me. Or to anyone in my presence anyway. Thank you. For telling me that.”
“You asked.” Geralt gives him a small smile. “And I wanted to.”
“Pankratz!” A large, bald man with a thick beard steps outside the front door and points at the Jeep. “Get your ass in here!”
Geralt’s smile very quickly becomes a scowl. “Coming!” Jaskier shouts before turning back to him.
“Are you going to need a ride home?” Based by the look on his face, Jaskier didn’t think of that; Geralt’s glad he did. He doesn’t exactly have Jaskier’s number.
“If you wouldn’t mind? I’m off at 3.” Geralt nods and Jaskier smiles, kissing his cheek before throwing the door open and getting out. “Thank you!”
Jaskier gets halfway to the door before he freezes like he’s just realizing what he did, but he doesn’t turn around; he then keeps walking, going into the building without reacting to what looks like his boss throwing a tantrum.
In any other circumstance, Geralt would get out and teach the man to shut his mouth, but his mind is stuck on that kiss like a tape skipping. He settles for catching the man’s eye and glaring, lip curled up in a snarl, but his heart isn’t really in it. His cheek burns the entire drive home and all the way up the stairs and after he closes his door. It’s ridiculous how fucking giddy he feels and he channels it into something productive: cleans the apartment, goes for a run, does some grocery shopping.
Afterwards, he throws himself onto his bed and decides to call Yen. She picks up on the third ring with a kind but stern, “Geralt, I’m at work.”
“It okay if I pick Ciri up? Gonna be out around that time anyway.”
“It’s short notice.” Her tone softens though. “Of course. I’ve had her for more than a month. I won’t begrudge you an extra hour. Have her text me once you pick her up.”
They exchange cordial goodbyes and hang up. Today’s going well, really well, too well. Geralt makes the mistake of laying down to take a nap, closes his eyes just for a bit, and wakes up with his heart racing. He sprints to the bathroom and heaves, empties his stomach and then goes for a bit longer. His whole body is aching like he’s been tensed in his sleep the entire time and he’s covered in a thin sheen of sweat. He stays on the bathroom floor for a while and then his alarm goes off. He’s gotta go pick up Ciri soon.
He gets in the shower and scrubs his skin raw like he’s still trying to get the blood off before he gets out and brushes his teeth, rinses away the gross feeling. He pulls on a new set of clothes, knows he has to look like a functioning adult, each one feeling like his skin is crawling. Next step is phone and keys. Once he’s outside, he feels a bit better and by the time he’s at the school to pick up Ciri at 2:30, he feels close enough to fine.
She comes strolling out and her face lights up when she sees him; she runs up and throws her arms around his neck. He picks her up and gives her the tightest hug she can handle. Now he’s fine.
“I didn’t know you were coming! I missed you!” He puts her down and just takes a moment to look her over. She’s a bit tanner and her cheeks a bit- “Stop doing that thing you do when I’ve been gone! It’s only been a month!”
“Month and a half.” Geralt buts the palm of his hand against her forehead and she levels a kick at his shin. “Come on. Got someone else to pick up. Don’t forget to text Yen.”
She follows him to the Jeep and it’s funny to watch her try to imitate his walk, back straight and chin up, but practically bouncing in excitement. “Who else are we getting? Triss? Uncle Vesemir?”
Ciri climbs into the back seat and Geralt turns around, giving her a pointed look; she sighs and puts her seatbelt on. “We’re picking up-“ He starts the car to cover up the significant pause. “The new neighbor I told you about. Dropped him off this morning when his car wouldn’t start.”
He sees Ciri’s surprised look in the rearview mirror. “What’s he like? Is he old like Uncle Vesemir? What does he look like?” Geralt clears his throat and tries to focus on the road, but it’s Ciri. She knows all his tells. “He’s gotta be different if you’re introducing us after just a month.”
They park in front of the Kingfisher and Ciri’s still throwing out theories, talking a mile a minute, when the door opens up and Jaskier comes bounding out, lute in hand and bag thrown over his shoulder. He sees the Jeep and smiles; it’s fucking radiant and Geralt can already tell he’s got a lovesick expression on his face, knows Ciri sees it before he manages to tone it down.
“Geralt. Oh my god. That’s him. You have a crush on a fucking twink. I cannot believe this. I can’t wait to tell Vesemir-“ She’s cackling in the backseat, nudging his shoulder.
“Vesemir already knows.” He doesn’t have a chance to answer the rest of it because Jaskier’s climbing into the car. What the fuck is a twink?
“Already knows what?” Jaskier asks before buckling up and turning around in his seat. “You must be Ciri! Geralt has told me absolutely nothing about you except your name and that you like strawberry Poptarts.”
“You’re Jaskier.” Ciri’s smile is devious and her whisper doesn’t qualify as quiet. “Every other text Geralt sends me is about you. I mean, he only texts three times a week, but it’s still impressive. And you’re better off than Triss.”
“So I’ve heard.” Jaskier’s voice has dropped to a fake whisper too. “What has he told you about me? It better all be flattering or we’ll be having words later, Geralt.”
“He told me you play the lute, but not much else. It’s mostly ‘Jaskier and I had dinner again’ or ‘Jaskier said I should know this band’ or-“
“Ciri.” It’s a warning, but both she and Jaskier just look at him fondly and keep talking. He feels vaguely offended.
“I thought you’d be an old man like Vesemir.” She leans forward to get a better look at his earrings. “But you’re cute! What are you? Twenty? You’re jailbait!”
“How do you even know words like that?” Geralt asks more to himself than to her, more focused merging.
“I’m thirteen, Geralt! I’m not a kid!”
“That is very flattering, but you’re off by five years.” Jaskier laughs, facing forward in his seat with his head turned towards Geralt. “I haven’t been jailbait in a long time.”
“Wow.” Now that one’s an actual whisper. The camera shutter noise is loud though by contrast and then she’s typing rapidly.
“What are you doing?” Geralt reaches blindly, but she holds her phone out of his grasp.
“I’m just texting Eskel! He has to know I finally met you!” Ciri scoots into the next seat and goes back to texting. “Oh and I have to tell Lambert-“
“Are these other people you probably should have mentioned to me? Is this going to hurt my feelings?” The car on the other side of the intersection has a very interesting dent on its bumper. Geralt isn’t staring to avoid the question at all.
“Eskel and Lambert are Geralt’s brothers. Lambert’s cool, I guess, but he’s super into this girl, Keira, and their whole thing is way too complicated. You should definitely meet Eskel! You’d probably like him even more than Geralt.”
“Complicated relationships are only interesting on soap operas.” Jaskier’s phone goes off and he pulls it out to check it. “And I can’t really imagine liking anyone more than Geralt. Even if they are from the same family.” That makes Geralt gut tighten and his chest warm and it was said so casually like Jaskier didn’t even have to think about it. “Besides, what makes you think your family would even want to meet me? I mean I am obviously a delight, but I have been told otherwise.”
Geralt’s just pulled into the parking lot and he’s glad the car’s off because he suddenly finds it hard to focus on anything but that question. Jaskier’s not even paying attention to what he’s just said, squinting at something on the screen. Geralt locks eyes with Ciri. She nods, grabs her backpack and heads inside, no doubt to ambush Vesemir.
He opens his mouth only to shut it. “We should exchange numbers, too, while I’m thinking about it since I seem to always-“ Jaskier looks up and the smile drops off his face. “Did you not want to do that? I mean, I thought it might be more convenient-“
“We should.” He turns in his seat and clears his throat. “I’ll have to ask Ciri for it. Jaskier-”
“Geralt, you don’t know your phone-“
“It isn’t true.” Geralt finally manages, resisting the urge to squirm in his seat. “Whatever that person told you. About not being. . .delightful.” Jaskier just blinks at him. “And I think my family would like to meet you. Vesemir and Ciri already like you.” It feels like he’s throwing up rocks. “I already like you.”
“How could you not?” But it’s shaky like Jaskier doesn’t know what else to say. He looks down and straightens his bag strap. “Thank you. For that. Normally, those sorts of things don’t bother me. I’ve learned to have a thick skin, but-.” He looks back up and his smile is blinding. “Let’s go get your number off of Ciri. I cannot believe you don’t know your own number, Geralt.”
“Not exactly calling myself.” They get out of the car and Jaskier bumps shoulders with Geralt once before linking their arms. Geralt huffs, but pulls him closer and hides his smile against Jaskier’s hair.
He doesn’t even mind Ciri’s teasing later. Fucking worth it.