"A lot of people, considering how many times my references are completely missed on Twitter."
Since he moved here, he had to stop using them when flirting, too. It had gotten him in a few awkward situations before he caught on. Geralt not only knowing but also liking Monty Python is wonderful news, Jaskier can make great use of this during their texting.
Would he chuckle and amusedly huff like this at his texts too, or is it just the weed talking?
He stops reciting the lines along pretty damn quickly, simply because he wants to hear Geralt better. Which isn't an easy task, because no matter how many times he's watched this movie, it still makes him laugh as much as the first time. Comedy is a form of art by itself, one that not everyone can pull off smoothly, and Jaskier appreciates the crew's wordplay with all his writer heart.
There's also an additional distraction: Geralt is leaning into him. Which shouldn't be a big deal, really. This is absolutely normal. Like a sleepover! Nobody would bat an eye at girls sitting like this, so they should be able to do the same without judgment or second guesses! Down with gender stereotypes! That's Jaskier's excuse to scoot closer anyway, to make it mutual leaning and enjoy the warmth of their bodies pressed together. If he wasn't laughing so often, he'd even rest his head on Geralt's shoulder.
(Lizzie is going to kill him.)
His mug is empty now, he should leave it on the coffee table, exchange it for his phone so he can record Geralt losing it to Biggus Dickus - but he can't bring himself to move. They've fallen naturally in this position, it'd bring attention to it to try to replicate it again deliberately.
In the end, it doesn't matter much, because he couldn't have moved even if he had gone for it: the leaning isn't mutual anymore. It's mostly just Geralt, and it can't even be called leaning anymore, more like crushing. They may be only a couple of inches apart in height, but Geralt's body is still much bigger than his: wider, heavier, bulkier... sexier. Jaskier simply doesn't have the strength to compete.
He isn't sure he wants to, anyway.
It happens in a flash: one second Jaskier is nudging his shoulder up, trying to keep his place; the next one he's down on the couch with around two hundred pounds of DILF on top of him. The mug has fallen on the rug and his legs are still hanging off the couch, rather awkwardly at that. His face is flushed, his heart starts beating quite fast and...
Jaskier takes a deep breath as he reminds his dick to behave.
"Hey there," he comments with a grin that shouldn't be there. A friend should be bothered by having to deal with another friend's heavy ass, maybe tease them for it, not speak in a tone a bit too close to sweet-nothings. And definitely not raise a hand to tuck a stray white strand of hair behind said friend's ear, but his hand is moving on its own, he swears. "I've heard stories about dogs, but I didn't know wolves could take over your couch too."
Geralt still thinks this is a tattoo reference, right? So he's safe. Hopefully.
no subject
Since he moved here, he had to stop using them when flirting, too. It had gotten him in a few awkward situations before he caught on. Geralt not only knowing but also liking Monty Python is wonderful news, Jaskier can make great use of this during their texting.
Would he chuckle and amusedly huff like this at his texts too, or is it just the weed talking?
He stops reciting the lines along pretty damn quickly, simply because he wants to hear Geralt better. Which isn't an easy task, because no matter how many times he's watched this movie, it still makes him laugh as much as the first time. Comedy is a form of art by itself, one that not everyone can pull off smoothly, and Jaskier appreciates the crew's wordplay with all his writer heart.
There's also an additional distraction: Geralt is leaning into him. Which shouldn't be a big deal, really. This is absolutely normal. Like a sleepover! Nobody would bat an eye at girls sitting like this, so they should be able to do the same without judgment or second guesses! Down with gender stereotypes! That's Jaskier's excuse to scoot closer anyway, to make it mutual leaning and enjoy the warmth of their bodies pressed together. If he wasn't laughing so often, he'd even rest his head on Geralt's shoulder.
(Lizzie is going to kill him.)
His mug is empty now, he should leave it on the coffee table, exchange it for his phone so he can record Geralt losing it to Biggus Dickus - but he can't bring himself to move. They've fallen naturally in this position, it'd bring attention to it to try to replicate it again deliberately.
In the end, it doesn't matter much, because he couldn't have moved even if he had gone for it: the leaning isn't mutual anymore. It's mostly just Geralt, and it can't even be called leaning anymore, more like crushing. They may be only a couple of inches apart in height, but Geralt's body is still much bigger than his: wider, heavier, bulkier... sexier. Jaskier simply doesn't have the strength to compete.
He isn't sure he wants to, anyway.
It happens in a flash: one second Jaskier is nudging his shoulder up, trying to keep his place; the next one he's down on the couch with around two hundred pounds of DILF on top of him. The mug has fallen on the rug and his legs are still hanging off the couch, rather awkwardly at that. His face is flushed, his heart starts beating quite fast and...
Jaskier takes a deep breath as he reminds his dick to behave.
"Hey there," he comments with a grin that shouldn't be there. A friend should be bothered by having to deal with another friend's heavy ass, maybe tease them for it, not speak in a tone a bit too close to sweet-nothings. And definitely not raise a hand to tuck a stray white strand of hair behind said friend's ear, but his hand is moving on its own, he swears. "I've heard stories about dogs, but I didn't know wolves could take over your couch too."
Geralt still thinks this is a tattoo reference, right? So he's safe. Hopefully.