For a moment, Geralt almost considers asking him what things his fans send him that are so bad, but then he realizes that this is both a very invasive question and also a very unwise question, because Jaskier might actually answer it. And if it's bad enough to make Jaskier, a man who has possibly negative amounts of shame, have to drink when he thinks about it, Geralt doesn't want to know. He will live a happier and more fulfilled life blissfully ignorant of the weird shit that people Snapchat at him or whatever.
For some reason, the prospect of Geralt taking his pictures down from the Instagram account is terribly distressing to Jaskier, and he's actually a little startled by his outburst-- it'd be hard to tell, Geralt's surprise mostly consists of staring at him with a furrowed brow, but it seems odd that he'd be so invested in the pictures on Geralt's account. It's not as though his photos reflect on Jaskier's reputation or anything. That's not how social media works, or at least he doesn't think it does. So why would he be so upset about Geralt taking down a few pictures?
Pictures, specifically, of him that a number of other people seem to find very attractive.
That thought kicks around in his head for a minute or so while he frowns at his phone. If these comments had come from anyone else, Geralt might have thought that they shared those sentiments. But Jaskier wouldn't, there's no way that a young, objectively attractive man looking to start a music career would be interested in a middle-aged father who spent most of his time around horses and smelled like it, too. He would be interested in pretty young people like himself, or someone wealthy who liked to pay for pretty young things. Geralt is none of those things.
And he also isn't interested in men, that's important to remember, too.
"Why would you want pictures of me?"
Geralt doesn't even want pictures of himself. Why would anyone else?
Jaskier looks up at him then, eyes wide and shock written all over his face, his mouth opening and closing like a fish. Has he heard correctly? There's no way Geralt doesn't know.
Is it?
"Because... friends..."
His mouth is running out of habit - Geralt asked a question and he doesn't like silence. But he soon closes it, realizing there's no way to salvage this without actually saying I like you. And after that question? The mere thought makes something in his chest hurt.
He soon realizes what it is: he feels like a fucking creep.
Is Geralt truly that oblivious? Is it because of his age, not understanding modern flirting? Because he's straight? Maybe he is queer, but simply not into Jaskier, and the idea of a younger man who values freedom over family life being into him isn't even an option. Or maybe he's asking on purpose to put Jaskier on the spot, considering the context of the thirsty comments they just discussed.
In the end, the real reason doesn't matter, the final conclusion is still obvious: everything Jaskier's done so far it's been 100% one-sided, and the tolerance he thought was there turns out to be in his head. He's no different from an internet anon creeping on him through his DMs, making Geralt feel uncomfortable and wanted only for being a hot piece of meat instead of appreciated for his work at the ranch.
Jaskier has no chances here. Lizzie will be happy to hear that later, he supposes.
There's one thing he hasn't been lying about though, and it's that he still likes this friendship. And if that's all he can get, well, he'll protect it. He looks down at his glass with a sigh, looking disappointed.
"I guess you're right, why would I want pictures from a friend?" He laughs, because the question sounds dumb in his head (he gets pictures from friends all the time and he sends his own to Geralt as well) but also to cover up any embarrassment that can go through in his expression - he still wants to salvage this, even if it has to be platonic. "Delete them, Geralt. I want you to have fun with your account, not to be harassed."
Do friends send each other pictures of themselves? Of other things, sure-- he'd sent Jaskier a picture or two of something that he'd thought the musician would enjoy, like the horses. His brothers would send him pictures of things sometimes, too, especially Lambert, most of the time if he found something funny or weird. Yen would send him pictures of Ciri, vacation photos from trips that he didn't go on. But none of them sent him pictures of themselves, and they certainly had never asked for him to do the same.
Is this what young people did now? Is this how he finds out for certain that he's gotten old?
There's a sudden sick twist in his gut, an uncomfortable possibility. He's not... he's not like one of those kinds of old men, going after people a whole decade younger than them because they're young and don't know what they want out of relationships yet. And sure, Jaskier's twenty-eight, not some barely-legal co-ed, but maybe it's overstepping some client boundaries to take him up the mountain alone for something that could, in the right context, look like a date-like activity. Though Jaskier couldn't have thought it was actually a date, he wouldn't have agreed to come if he'd thought that.
Still. He needs to be more careful. Like he'd said with the pictures-- someone could get the wrong idea.
"I'll take care of them later," he says. "Reception's shit up here."
The rest of their totally platonic picnic passes relatively easily-- Jaskier carries the majority of the conversation, being far better at small-talk and that kind of thing than Geralt's ever been. And Geralt tries to at least participate a little, even if he does have a tendency towards one-word answers. Evening's setting in by the time they pack everything up and head back down the mountain, the sunset painting the meadows in shades of red and gold.
The horses get put away for the night with their (lighter, since they'd been grazing all afternoon) dinners, seemingly content to be back in the barn after spending all day out doing... horse things. Mostly standing around and eating grass, but who knows what goes on inside the head of a horse during long summer afternoons.
This would be about the time that he would walk Jaskier up to where his ride would come to get him, then take the turn to head back to his own house. But Jaskier's very much a city boy, and Geralt's had enough city folk come down for trail rides to know that they aren't always aware of what needs to be done post-trail ride. Probably never had to deal with a tick in their lives. He imagines that Jaskier's probably much the same.
"You should tick check yourself before you go back home," he says. "You've probably got a few on you. Use my shower, if you want."
He's certain that Jaskier has at least one on him, because Geralt already picked one or two of them off of himself in the time since they'd come down off of the mountain. If he has them, the musician almost certainly does too-- ticks don't discriminate against prettyboys with guitars. Very egalitarian of them.
While this little turn of events ends up in heartbreak for him (what a surprise), Jaskier must admit something does improve in this relationship, and that's the conversation. It's not always easy to chat with Geralt when they're on different horses and the man can easily ignore him by making Roach go a little farther or faster. It's not like he's making that much conversation now either, but the fact he's participating at all (even if it's with one-word answers) is a huge deal. It's... well, nice. A nice platonic chat. It reminds Jaskier of why he puts up with his grumpy ass in the first place.
He tries to flirt a little less. He has to wonder if his mannerisms even make it possible.
The day is over a little too soon, although it's probably for the best. Jaskier takes a picture of the beautiful sunset and sings all the way back to the ranch, a calm and thoughtful song about the twists of destiny leaving his lips to match what he's been in his mind since that awfully awkward moment of realization.
After saying his good-byes to Pegasus, Jaskier takes out his phone to order a ride... and freezes when Geralt makes his comment, blue eyes widening.
"...what." That has come out a bit more like a squeal than he intends it to. "Bloody hell, Geralt! This isn't our first trail ride!" He's already putting the phone away and taking off his flannel shirt. "Why is it TODAY that you choose to warn fucking warn me about this?"
He's a little too busy freaking out at the idea of nasty bugs hanging on his body and untying his boots to realize that Geralt has invited him inside and also this was something done back at the Pankratz estate... but by the servants.
Jaskier's immediately upset by this information because-- as Geralt suspected-- he apparently had no idea that ticks are a thing. Despite the fact that it's common knowledge that ticks exist in woods and meadows and have no qualms with latching onto a human host and making a nice meal out of them. He's already starting to take off his clothes, even though Geralt hasn't even brought him back to the house yet and he's just standing out near the street.
"Don't strip right now, unless you want to walk barefoot to the house," he says, then starts to lead the musician back up the driveway towards his home. "Usually I don't get this many on me just from taking a trail ride, but we usually don't roll around in the underbrush either."
The house that Geralt built is, unsurprisingly to anyone who knows him, very much in a cabin style, a sturdy two-story thing with a semi-basement, made from wood and stone with a deck off of the main floor and a balcony off of the second. Geralt leads him up the stairs to the deck, then into the house that way; that entrance goes right into the living room, the closest one to the first-floor bathroom. A person might be surprised that the house actually seems like it's been decorated rather than just filled with whatever furniture would do, but any cohesiveness in the design is entirely Yen's input. Geralt would have been fine with a house with mis-matched furniture so long as each individual piece was serviceable, but she had taken one step into it and demanded that he run these decisions by her first. Something about not wanting her daughter to spend half of her time in a house full of flannel.
So the end result is cozy, a place that Ciri could be comfortable living in, too, with enough of Geralt's-- as Yen would put it-- bullshit mountain man aesthetic that he doesn't feel like a stranger in his own home. Maybe more soft fabrics and warm colors than he would've used, but Yen kept it muted, subtle. She'd always been better at this sort of thing than him, anyway, so leaving it to her had been a good decision.
She had also, for inexplicable reasons, shown considerable glee in putting a dense faux-fur rug in front of the large central fireplace, regardless of the looks Geralt gave her. He knows what she thinks it'll be used for, but he'd have to be dating someone to fuck them on the rug in front of his fireplace.
Anyway.
"Take off your shirt and jeans," he says. "I'll check you over. Bathroom's over there, you can check the rest when I'm done and rinse off."
It's not a big deal-- he'd done the same thing with his brothers after long days messing around in the woods as kids. Purely practical. There's nothing strange about putting his hands on Jaskier, getting his fingers through his hair.
"I'll toss your clothes in the dryer while you're in there. Heat'll kill anything we missed."
"...ah. Right." You'd think he'd try at least to look ashamed of how quickly he can undress, but he doesn't. He just picks his guitar, his bags and his shirt and clears his voice. "Lead the way!"
The fact Geralt is inviting him to his freaking house is finally sinking in, and that instantly gets rid of his indignation, replacing it with a grin instead. The bugs are worth it in exchange for this one more step in this re-... ah, friendship, he reminds himself. Right. Which is why he doesn't make an innuendo joke when Geralt mentions rolling around in the underbrush, no matter he's dying to.
Jaskier has seen the house from the outside every time he's visited, of course, and he's always thought it matches the mountain man motif Geralt has going on. So he expects the inside to match - imagine his surprise when it doesn't.
Alright, that's not completely fair. It does match in theme, it's just... well. It's actually well done! Jaskier wouldn't mind spending time here and even take pictures he wouldn't be ashamed of sharing. There even are a fur rug and a fireplace! Geralt only needs to open a few shirt buttons and it'll be the perfect romance novel cover. Has the rug ever been baptized, he wonders.
...he shouldn't be thinking like that. Friends, friends!
"You have a very nice place here, Geralt. I didn't expect you to have an eye for decoration." He keeps turning on his spot in the middle of the room, taking every detail, wanting to learn more about this mystery of a man - and that's why he's distracted when Geralt speaks, so his mouth works on automatic. "Oh gee, buy a bloke dinner first, you scamp."
His turning stops as soon as he finishes saying that. Everything happens in an instant: first the freezing and the wide eyes, a second later the raising of his hands to gesture, which he can't do because they're busy. His flannel shirt falls to the floor and Jaskier curses under his breath as he drops his bags and his guitar case on the couch.
"Sorrysorrysorry I didn't mean-- I mean--" Fuck. Triplefuck. He is being a creep after all, holy shit. He hasn't been this much of a bisexual disaster in a while. "A shower after a warm day sounds lovely, thank you, my friend."
Yeah, friend. There we go. Smooth as fuck (except he isn't).
Jaskier clears his voice and starts undressing as Geralt requested, at more normal speed this time. Partly because he wants to stick to this whole better-not-come-off-as-flirting deal, partly because he needs a moment for his brain to stop panicking at the fact he's undressing for bloody Geralt. This isn't how he imagined it would happen, honestly. And it's not like Jaskier hasn't been in locker rooms before, but this is definitely different. Geralt will be touching him and inspecting him closely in the privacy of his home and--
Bollocks he mumbles under his breath again as he drops his I'm a luxury you can't afford t-shirt on the floor next to his shirt, and now his lovely (blue and yellow) tattoo and all that freaking body hair are in display. His jeans go off next, and he decides to search the room for a topic of conversation to try to distract himself from the fact Geralt is now seeing him in his underwear.
There's one sock left to take off when he sees it. He frowns, confused and already getting a little annoyed if he's understanding this correctly.
"...Geralt. Have you been lying to me or your daughter just happens to have a huge collection of high fantasy?"
Jaskier seems to approve of his house, which... shouldn't mean anything but kind of does, for some reason. Geralt just mentally brushes it off; no one would like it if someone thought that their house looked awful. It's nothing strange. And it doesn't matter much anyway, it's not as though Jaskier's going to be spending much time in Geralt's house. What would he be here for?
In response to his dinner comment, Geralt just gives him a single raised eyebrow-- he doesn't take it personally, it's the kind of horseshit that people say in this kind of situation. A way to break the weird tension of having to strip down in front of someone you don't know very well. Jaskier seems oddly flustered by the whole thing afterward, though. He still does what Geralt asked and takes off his shirt and jeans, tossing them into a pile, but he seems keen on inspecting his surroundings more than paying attention to his host. Geralt doesn't stop him; he has to get out of his own shirt so that Jaskier can check his hair and back as well, and to briefly go into the kitchen to fetch a paper towel. Needs to have something to squash the ticks in once he finds them, after all.
He asks about the bookshelves, which are, as he noticed, packed full-- fantasy, horror, classic gothic novels, a few shelves dedicated to those popular young adult novels that Ciri likes. Quite a few of the paperbacks are well-loved, with bent pages and cracked spines. Geralt steps behind him, reaching out with one hand to brush aside some of the hair at the nape of his neck so that he could look at his hairline. Start pushing his fingers through his thick, dark hair, feeling for any ticks that might be hiding there.
"Ciri is a very prolific reader," he says. "But I didn't lie to you. I don't read, I don't have time to anymore."
He used to read, a hobby that he'd really picked up while he'd been in prison. Not much else to do while he was there but exercise, read, and try not to get into any more trouble. Be a model prisoner and try to look nice for the parole board hearings.
"Hold still." There's a suspicious little bump in the hair just behind Jaskier's right ear. Geralt grabs it between thumb and forefinger and pulls, and-- yeah, there's one. First tick of the afternoon. Geralt deposits it on the paper towel and squashes it with a thumb.
Indeed, Jaskier is busying himself by inspecting his surroundings, which means he completely misses on Geralt taking off some clothes as well. Probably for the best, he's already having enough of a hard time.
So Geralt had been lying, the bastard! Jaskier wants to huff... but a gasp escapes his lip instead when that a strong yet kind hand touches the nape of his neck. When did Geralt get behind him? How can a man this big be so sneaky? Fuck, his fingers are long and gentle and they're pushing through his hair now - Jaskier swears he could bloody swoon right now.
And if he pushes his head back against that hand, well. Totally an accident. Really.
"Y-you arse." Ah, his voice has come out a little too squeaky, hasn't it? Good lord, this is almost pathetic. He takes a deep breath and tries again, ignoring how fast his heart is beating and how it echoes in his own ears. "Don't play innocent with me, this is the second time you answer with a technicality just to avoid my questions. If you don't want to call it lying then call it bloody cheating."
He knows because he's a word-spinner and he used to pull the same shit on his parents. Not so fun when someone else pulls it on you, mmh, Jaskier?
One would think holding still should be a hard task for Jaskier - and usually it is, ball of energy and all. But it isn't so difficult this time, because he can feel Geralt's fingers on his ear and his body can only freeze as a shiver runs down his spine. His eyes are shut tight and Jaskier tries to think about not erotic things to distract himself from Geralt's hand on him and Geralt's warm breath on the back of his head and Geralt's body being so close and--
Fuck. Valdo Marx in a thong. Sundays spent in church. Spoiled milk. Nasty bugs, like the one Geralt is---
Oh for fuck's sake. This isn't working! It's the silence, it's gotta be. He hates silence, and it makes this moment worse by making it an Actual Moment (TM). He needs a topic of conversation asap. Where were they? Ah, yes. Literature.
"Every portrait that is painted with feeling is a portrait of the artist, not of the sitter," he recites Oscar Wilde as he realizes his chest is flushed now. Dammit, hopefully Geralt doesn't notice. "Is that lovely gothic section yours or your daughter's?"
Do they have books in common? Now that would be as unexpected as the excellent decoration.
"Hm," he says when Jaskier accuses him of cheating, giving away absolutely nothing. It is cheating, a little, because he knows that he's skirting around the question on a technicality. At first it had been because Jaskier was nosy and pushy, but now... it's fun, almost, to tease him. Just a little.
Jaskier holds very still while Geralt takes the tick off of him, presumably because he's taking a gross insect out of his hair. He keeps searching for more as the musician stays silent, focusing entirely on his task. He doesn't want to miss one, after all, and have it bite him. He could get sick from that, if he's particularly unlucky, and he doesn't need Lyme disease or something while he's trying to get his music career off the ground.
He breaks the silence with an Oscar Wilde quote as Geralt's finishing up with his scalp, pushing his ear forward a little and finding a little black dot hiding back there. Apparently the musician's ears are very attractive to ticks, and it takes Geralt a few moments to figure out how to grab the thing and remove it from its awkward location. Thankfully, it's too soon after their trip for the bugs to have bitten yet, so it comes off easily enough once he can grab it.
"Not a whole lot of fourteen year old girls reading Wilde," he says, moving on from Jaskier's hair to the nape of his neck, then down his back. His skin is soft and smooth, clearly well taken care of, and there is surprising strength in the muscles of his back. A splash of color marks his side where the tattoo runs. "They're mine."
His back looks clear, but there's technically one more spot for him to check. Ticks like to hide in dark, warm places, and one of their favorite spots is just underneath waistbands in trousers or, in this case, undergarments.
"Waistband," he says as a warning, then hooks his thumbs over the edge of it and pulls it back. Not much, just enough to see a half an inch or so of extra skin, and it's just as creamy-pale and smooth as the rest of him. Geralt's mouth feels oddly dry; maybe he's a little dehydrated because of the wine.
"You're good," he takes his hands off of Jaskier, and his fingertips feel like they're tingling just a little. "You'll still need to look over the rest of you. I'd appreciate it if you could check through my hair first."
One of the downsides of having his hair long-- it's a lot to check through. But the color of it means that ticks don't blend in at all, so that's one very minor benefit to his premature gray.
"You just insulted a whole new generation of bookworms," he replies, laughing and grateful for the distraction, because Geralt's fingers are on his freaking back now. God. Every spot he touches tingles, he swears. He needs to keep conversation up, to convince his brain to hold onto the blood instead of sending it south - and he's about to say something about his surprise over them having authors in common when Geralt gives his warning. Jaskier doesn't have time to react, he can only say-
"What?"
-before Geralt is hooking his thumbs over the waistband of his fucking underwear. Jaskier catches his breath and before he can stop himself, he's raising his hand to cover his mouth because he's sure a very embarrassing noise almost escapes him. Geralt is looking at his ass. Geralt is looking at his ass. GERALT IS LOOKING AT HIS ASS! Or maybe he isn't. Is he? He doesn't know what to think, he doesn't know what he wants the answer to be.
Geralt isn't interested in him, he reminds himself. He wanted to be treated like a friend, right? Well, this is it. Dudes being dudes.
Then why does his heart keep on screaming about mixed signals? (His heart has never been good at giving advice, Lizzie would say.)
It's a quick moment that's over soon, but Jaskier feels like it lasts a fucking eternity. It's not helped by the fact Geralt asks him to check through his hair, something Jaskier has wanted to do since he first met him: to run his finger through white locks and let his nails tease the nape of his neck and-- stop.
"S-sure." He gulps before he starts turning around. "If you have a comb I could also help you with--"
Words get stuck in his -suddenly very dry- throat when Jaskier finishes turning and finds himself face to face with the two biggest tits he's ever seen in his fucking life.
That embarrassing squeaky sound from before? Yeah, he can't stop it this time.
Geralt was born chiseled by Michelangelo himself. Every muscle is bulging: his six-pack could be used to wash fucking leather on, those arms are thicker than some of the tree trunks in the forest, and the chest... good lord, that chest. What a mighty chest. Jaskier wants to bury his face in it, to take naps on it, to suck on those perky nipples - PIERCED nipples. Geralt has piercings. On his nipples.
Also a fucking wolf tattoo.
Did they drink all the wine? He needs more wine.
Jaskier realizes he's raising his hand and quickly takes it back - so much for not being a creep. And his voice? The traitor comes out in a high pitch when he speaks.
"...you are a wolf."
His brain is not working right, so that thought is the only thing he manages to say. He isn't talking about the actual animal - Geralt is a wolf in the same way he is an otter. How could he not see it before?
An interesting noise comes out of Jaskier's mouth when he turns around, this sort of weird, strangled sound that probably is very similar to what a mouse would make if you stepped on it. He also appears to be staring directly at Geralt's chest, and perhaps that's because he's standing a little too close to him? People get a bit uncomfortable if he crowds or looms, because of the sheer size of him; Geralt steps back a bit, to give him space.
He calls him a wolf, and Geralt is briefly confused before he follows Jaskier's gaze to the tattoo on his chest. Then he huffs a laugh; really, Jaskier doesn't have a leg to stand on when it comes to tattoos, he's got that giant musical one on his side that's a bit on the nose, too.
He's not aware of the usage of the word wolf outside of the vanilla-- the double meaning goes right over his head.
"I got it with my brothers," he says, which is... something of an explanation, anyway. Doesn't really explain why it's a wolf or why they wanted to get it, but now Jaskier knows that there are brothers involved somewhere. Progress? "Stay here."
He goes to the bathroom to fetch a comb from one of the drawers, then returns with it and hands it over to Jaskier. He takes a seat on the ottoman that's in front of the living room couch, since doing so would put his head at a more convenient height for this sort of thing.
The sheer size of him is, indeed, having an effect on Jaskier, but not because of the reasons Geralt is thinking. He's barely a few inches shorter, how can he feel so small anyway? Geralt's body is freaking massive and hard (his hands remember from their previous "underbush rolling") and Jaskier wishes he could be under it right there on the rug.
That huffed laugh brings Jaskier back to reality - a sound he doesn't hear often and it makes him happy when he gets to. Not only that, Geralt is also offering information about himself without Jaskier having to pry for it. How is this fair? How is it that Geralt is finally behaving like a true friend after Jasker arrived to such heartbreaking conclussions? Destiny is one fucking bitch.
He nods when Geralt tells him to wait, watching that lovely bottom leave the room and- ugh, even his back is wide and strong and Jaskier wants to dig his nails on it as he's pounded on the rug-- fuck. Cursing under his breath, Jaskier picks his t-shirt from the floor, makes a ball out of it and presses it against his face so he can scream into it.
Once a drama queen, forever a drama queen. But boy, does it feel good to get that off his chest.
The t-shirt is soon back on the floor and Jaskier quickly regrets it: he may need to scream again after all. How can he not when Geralt is just sitting there waiting for him to take care of his hair? This isn't some anti bug bullshit deal, this is true friendship. He may not know Geralt that well, but he's pretty sure not just anyone gets him like this.
"So, uh. Brothers, huh? Are you the oldest one?"
Conversation is good, it helps him stay focused - besides, he wants to know for real anyway. Two birds one stone and all that jazz. Jaskier picks the comb and the paper towel and moves to stand behind Geralt, but he doesn't quite use his tools yet. First he undoes the hair tie, letting it fall on the floor with his clothes (don't they look good together on the pile, as if they were- no) and quickly runs his fingers through the long locks to take care of the main mess. It's his fault after all! (Yes, that's the excuse he's going with.)
"What does the wolf mean anyway?"
Because obviously it's not what Jaskier thought of. He grabs the comb then and starts brushing, stopping with he finds a tick to grab with the towel. Geralt may know this is happening because of the pause in the combing, but also because there's an ewww mumbled every time.
And if Geralt cares to notice, well - it doesn't seem to be Jaskier's first time combing through someone's long hair.
Jaskier gets to work behind him, tugging the tie loose from his hair and running quick fingers through it to finger-comb a little. It's... nice, the gentle touch against his scalp, the casual intimacy. Nice enough that it makes a little thrill run down his spine, and he has to get a grip on himself so that this situation doesn't turn into something embarrassing for the both of them. And really solidifies the fact that his decision to go out and trawl a few bars with Lambert and Eskel really is necessary-- it's been long enough that his body could easily misconstrue a platonic touch with that of a lover's. He can solve that, though, with one night with a pretty woman that he'll never see again.
The musician asks him a question and he's already offered up a little information about his strange and dysfunctional family. He might as well give a little more.
"No," he says. "Middle. Eskel's a few months older than me."
He'll leave Jaskier to figure out how that works-- for siblings to be only a few months apart instead of at least a full nine. None of them are related.
He's distracted for a bit by the drag of the comb through his hair, the smooth rhythm of it and the indulgence of letting someone touch him this way. He must have had some practice in brushing out long hair-- perhaps because of that sister that Geralt had seen in his Instagram pictures-- because he's gentle when he runs into tangles and knows how to ease them out without tugging too hard. Geralt's not even that gentle with his own hair, he'll rip the comb through if the tangle's being too stubborn. He almost misses the question about his tattoo because he's so enthralled with it.
"Hm, it's nothing, really." Just something gotten when he and Eskel were in their early twenties and Lambert was still technically too young to get a tattoo at all, and they'd lied about his age to get the tattooist to do it. Something that's theirs, because they'd all gone through this same bullshit thing together when they were kids and even if Lambert's a prick and Eskel likes goats too much and Geralt was the surprise disappointment, they'll always be brothers. "A thing from books we all read. About a bunch of monster hunters."
He doesn't move his head to look, because that might dislodge Jaskier from his task, but he makes a little gesture with one hand towards the musician's side. "Ribs are pretty rough to get done."
The tattoo itself is pretty self-explanatory-- musical things for the musician-- but the placement isn't usual for a first-time piece. People usually go for an easier area for the first one, one that won't hurt quite so much or be in an awkward place to take care of.
To the surprise of nobody, Jaskier enjoys the hell out of being pampered. What does surprise people most of the time, though, is the fact Jaskier enjoys pampering others as well. The enjoyment comes from a mix of many things: he likes pretty things, including pretty people; he likes life's little pleasures, he likes intimacy even if it's not sexual and sharing moments with people, he likes to think dressing up is an art, too, and he's nothing but an artist. So sure, he's had practice thanks to his sister, but that's because he went to her and asked her to teach instead of just being a "side effect" of having a female sibling, as most people usually assume.
The intimacy side of grooming comes with certain vulnerability, too, it can be a little like exposing yourself. And after an afternoon spent being told they aren't really friends? Well, this means a lot to Jaskier. More than once he has to stop himself from letting his hands wander to those broad shoulders and the scars on Geralt's back. He's dying to know how he got them, and he'll sooner or later - they already have a topic to chat about, one Geralt doesn't seem to mind because he keeps offering information about himself without Jaskier having to push too much for it. He couldn't be more delighted.
"You're a middle child!" he exclaims with pleased surprise, his brain not quite catching on that little mathematical issue yet. "So am I! First the writers, now this - turns out we have more in common than we thought, mmh?"
Definitely rubbing this on Lizzie's face later - who is, by the way, the only sibling Jaskier has ever talked about, the only one that has shown up on his social media. He's so pleased by these little discoveries that his mouth is running a little more than usual, without him stopping to think what kind of questions Geralt may ask about it afterward.
The combing slows down and if you ask Jaskier, he'll say it's because he's being careful with all the knots. The truth is, he doesn't want this moment to end. He even considers pretending to struggle to catch the ticks, but he knows trying to touch more than necessary would cross the line into creep-o zone, and so he reminds himself to be thankful Geralt is the kind of manly bloke that isn't against long hair and he can make this grooming session as long as it is already.
"Aww, that's so sweet! Don't call it nothing, you grump. It has meaning for you and your brothers. That makes it important." He's about to ask about those books, but then Geralt makes a question of his own (indirectly, but still) and how can Jaskier not answer? He loves talking about himself, and Geralt actually making conversation is wonderful. "Do you like it?" he asks with a chuckle, his mouth still running without much thinking thanks to the coziness of the moment. "I got it as soon as I got to college. The ear piercings were easy to hide from my parents, but something like this? I had to wait. I consulted many tattoo artists and yeah, some of them were a bit unsure about my choice for a first tattoo. But I knew what I wanted and I wouldn't settle for less."
And that defines Jaskier's view of life for, well-- pretty much everything. For a kid that grew up supposedly having it all, it felt like everything he actually wanted was forbidden. There won't be any of that in his adult life - limits can go fuck themselves. It's Jaskier's way or the highway.
"To quote Beethoven - what I have in my heart and soul must find a way out, that's the reason for music. And one's soul deserves better than a little something on your shoulder, don't you agree?"
Geralt is somehow not surprised that when Jaskier got a taste of freedom, he ran with it and never looked back. Got tattoos and piercings, went out and did what he wanted. It's probably understandable-- the child of wealthy helicopter parents, who spent most of his life being shuttled from home to private school to approved after-school activities. A life rigidly structured and rigidly controlled, a diametric contrast to Geralt's childhood.
Neither one was better than the other, probably. Jaskier's overbearing proper upbringing or Geralt's latchkey freedom in a house of unwanted boys.
"Hm," he says, because this talk of the richness of souls and such is out of his depth. Too much poetry to it. Geralt has never been good that that kind of thing-- too much metaphor for him. Anything worth saying is worth saying plainly. "Wouldn't know."
He tips his head just a little, to look back at Jaskier out of the corner of his eye. "Finished up back there?"
As nice as it's been to have someone touch him gently, this has been purely for a practical purpose. There's nothing behind it, Jaskier's just been easy on his hair because he's had experience with combing similarly long hair in the past and knows that it can hurt if you yank at it. That's all. Everything is practical.
"I can finish checking myself. You should go wash up, in case there are any more on you."
"Whaaaat wouldn't you know?" Jaskier frowns at the white head in front of him as he reviews in his mind what he just said. ...wait. "Are you saying you wouldn't know anything about souls?" A snort. "I need only two seconds of watching you take care of your horses to know that's a huge pile of crap if I ever heard one. I bet bloody unicorns would come to you if they existed."
As grumpy and antisocial he can be, Geralt is still the very definition of a gentle soul. There's a reason why Jaskier is developing a (very inconvenient considering what he's learned today) crush on the guy, this goes beyond wanting a night on the hay under those mighty muscles. And speaking of inconvenient crushes, here's Geralt noticing Jaskier is taking his sweet, sweet time with the hair. Oops.
"A-ah, yeah! Yeah. I'm done." He jumps back, feeling caught with his hand in the cookie jar. "I'm just-- gonna take that shower now. Yeah, good idea. Be right back."
Good lord, this is new levels of pathetic. That shower will need to be ice cold.
This bathroom seems to be a guest one, Jaskier would guess for the lack of obvious daughter stuff. Which is a pity, because he has been hoping to learn a bit more about Geralt from it. No matter how creepy he thought he had been being earlier, Jaskier continues to be nosy, and that nose is stuck everywhere. Sadly there isn't much to put that nose on, just a bunch of lush products and...
One single bar of basic soap. Unbelievable.
Wait, no, scratch that, it's totally believable from Mr Mountain Man. Jaskier shakes his head at it, half exasperated half fond, and makes a mental note to buy Geralt a nice amenity basket. He gotta give the guy one thing though: the bathtub is damn nice. One could easily invite a date in here and have a bath toge-
Nooooo. Nope. Enough of those thoughts. Gotta wash up quickly, wanking in here is out of the question. So Jaskier starts with pure cold water to get his body under control before changing into something warmer to do the actual washing and checking of ticks in more private areas. What did Geralt think about some hours ago? That Jaskier probably has whole damn concerts in the shower with himself?
Yeeeeah.
"♪ Ooooh, I'm in love with your body. Every day discovering something brand new, I'm in love with the shape of you. ♪"
Look, so maybe (just maybe!) all the touching and uncovering of Geralt's body day has left him... inspired.
(The fact Shape of you ends up stuck in his head and becomes his next cover is a complete coincide, obviously. Not an indication of his crush. Clearly.)
It's a pretty quick shower for Jaskier's standards - he's usually the kind of guy that uses most (if not all!) the hot water. But he doesn't have all his products here, and he's supposed to be behaving less creepily - Geralt already noticed him taking more time than necessary with his hair, no need to have a repeat of that.
He puts his underwear back on after making sure there are no bugs on it, and comes out of the bathroom while still drying his hair off with a towel.
"Geralt, we need to talk about your choice of bathroom products. Where did you get that soap, Hermits-r-us?"
Jaskier acts oddly jumpy when he's done with Geralt's hair, all but running off to the shower to get cleaned up. Maybe he's one of those types that are freaked out by bugs, and the whole tick removal process has made him uncomfortable. That's unfortunate, but it's a necessary evil-- hopefully he'll get over it by the time he's done washing up.
Geralt disposes of the squashed bugs and then picks up his and Jaskier's discarded clothes, tossing them into the dryer and turning it on to its hottest setting to kill anything that might still be clinging to the fabric. He tosses his own jeans in there, too, just for good measure, and heads upstairs to finish his own quick check and then change into a pair of loose sweats. As he comes back downstairs, he can hear the water running in the guest bathroom, indicating that Jaskier is actually doing as Geralt suggested and rinsing off.
He's only just opened the refrigerator to grab a beer when his phone starts ringing. The call's from Yen, and he answers it just a moment before he realizes that it's a FaceTime call, too. He props the camera up on the counter so that he's reasonably within frame, putting it on speaker so that he can talk to her normally.
"Hello, Geralt." She takes in his mostly undressed appearance with some amusement. "Trying a new look?"
"Just came back in from a trail ride," he says. "Tick check."
"Ah, yes. Another reason why I would never live on the side of a mountain. Well, as promised, I am calling to let you know that your daughter is alive and well despite not being under your endearingly overprotective watch. She's getting changed for dinner right now, otherwise I'd have her say hello."
"Madrid, today?" he remembers that the trip is a few days on mainland Spain before heading to Yen's preferred Ibiza resort. He just can't remember which city it is, or if they're even sticking to the schedule that Yen originally gave him.
"Barcelona. We'll catch the ferry tomorrow afternoon," she says, and her mouth is open to say something else when Jaskier interrupts, making his entrance behind Geralt while drying off his hair. And, because luck is never on Geralt's side, he walks right into the view of the camera, which can only capture him from the waist-up. Considering that he's bare chested at the moment-- with a truly surprising amount of slightly damp chest hair-- it looks like he's just walking around Geralt's house entirely nude.
"Is he still only using a single bar of soap?" Yen says, her focus shifting from Geralt to the musician behind him. "Really, Geralt, would it kill you not to use it on your hair, at least? And you could have warned me that you had company over, I don't want Ciri to see who you're bringing home from dive bars these days."
Geralt grabs for the phone, knocking it over before he manages to pick it up and angle it away from Jaskier. "He was just using the shower, Yen, that's it."
Jaskier instantly freezes when it's a female voice that replies to him - oh shit, is he interrupting something? The woman on the screen is one hell of a beauty, that's for sure, the kind of pretty Jaskier would totally hit on and let her step on him with her high heels. A ten for another ten, Geralt and her would make a killer couple, one Jaskier wouldn't mind being sandwiched in between. When her very intense eyes fall on him, he gives her a smile and a wave, and he considers teasing Geralt over possibly hiding a girlfriend from his new friend when Ciri is brought up.
Hot damn. This is Geralt's fucking ex. And she's getting one hell of a wrong first impression.
After being told over and over that they aren't friends today, Geralt's that's it doesn't sting as much as Jaskier expects it to, probably because he understands Geralt's worry. This could like... look bad in court or something, perhaps? He should do something.
"Actually," he adds in with his voice raised, unsure of how well she can hear him. "I'm a client of the ranch thanks to your daughter's recommendation. ...bollocks, that sounds worse."
How can he-- oh, to hell with it. After hanging the towel around his neck, Jaskier comes closer and puts his hand on Geralt's shoulder as he peeks over it, leaving a wet spot on Geralt's back because of his chest hair. There is, indeed, lots of it.
"My lady." He takes two fingers to his forehead that he quickly lowers as he nods as a greeting, trying to play the charming card. "I assure you nothing of the sort-" He waggles his eyebrows. "-is happening. As Geralt has kindly reminded me today," Sarcastic much, Jaskier? "He doesn't even consider me a friend. Which is, as far as I'm concerned, an impressive pile of bullcrap, but I digress. Geralt here--" He pats Geralt's shoulder. "--is quite the caring and protective father, and he's always made sure I only come around when your daughter isn't around. In fact, he was ready to throttle me when he misunderstood my interactions with the kind Cirilla on twitter, interactions that have always been strictly about music, memes and Lady Gaga's wardrobe choices. I hope this little moment of awkwardness doesn't impact your views on allowing your daughter to enjoy my music and, most importantly, Geralt's capacity to be responsible and safe. Grumpy and brooding he may be, but irresponsible he is not, I swear on my guitar."
He rests his chin on Geralt's shoulder then, offering his best innocent eyes and charming smile. He can see "Yen" better now and fuck, with these two as parents? Cirilla may become the most beautiful woman in the entire fucking world.
This situation is already bad. Yen is taking far too much interest in Geralt's... acquaintance and the reason that he's inside the house, and Jaskier is doing absolutely nothing to dissuade her. Then he walks up behind Geralt and peeks over his shoulder at the camera, and he can do that quite easily because, somehow, Geralt had forgotten that they're almost the same height. He shoots the musician an irritated look that does nothing to stop him.
"Oh, I am well aware of Geralt's protective tendencies. He just so rarely brings anyone back to the house, even... friends."
Yen is enjoying this. Geralt knows that Yen is enjoying this, and she knows that he knows that she's enjoying this, because she's always enjoyed pushing at him and making him uncomfortable. Thinks it's funny. She is delighted by the kind of discomfort that she can see in him right now, especially when Jaskier puts his chin on his shoulder and Geralt doesn't move him. He's still a little damp from the shower, and the texture of his chest hair is slightly rough against the skin of his back, which is a fact that should not be important but is somehow impossible to ignore.
"You're that musician from YouTube, aren't you? I don't see any reason to keep Ciri from watching your little videos, you seem quite harmless." She fixes Jaskier with her violet-eyed gaze, and Geralt knows from personal experience that she has eyes like gimlets. They pierce right through you. "Maybe I shouldn't be worried about my daughter's virtue, hm?"
An odd way to put it, Geralt thinks. Yen's assessments are usually right, and Geralt does generally agree with it-- Jaskier's harmless to Ciri. She smiles, and her lipstick today is a bright, bloody red.
"It's a shame that I'm out of the country right now, Jaskier. I might have liked to meet you in person, I think we would have a lot to talk about."
Geralt's frown deepens; Jaskier isn't Yen's usual type. And he would know, because her usual type is more like him, someone who looks strong and intimidating that she can get underneath her immaculate heels. And she's good at that, too, but that's a trip down memory lane that Geralt doesn't need to go on right now.
He is saved by the buzzing of the dryer.
"I need to get that. We'll talk later, Yen."
"Oh, of course, Geralt. Have a good night."
He hangs up the phone and it's a relief to no longer see her face, which is a first. Geralt moves away from Jaskier to get the clothes out of the dryer, not stopping to look at him because he's. Mostly undressed, and Geralt shouldn't gawk at him. Though why would he stare at all, they're two men, it's not as though he's got a mostly naked woman in his living room.
"Here." He tosses the musician's clothes at him, still warm from the dryer.
"Exactly my point!" he exclaims with a hand thrown in the air. Even the ex is using the word friend and pointing out how it's unusual behavior for Mr Hermit, Jaskier isn't letting Geralt forget this any time soon. "If this isn't friendship, I don't know what it is!"
Her eyes sure are piercing, as intense as Geralt's even. Her strength is in the way she carries herself, in the way she uses her words, a perfect companion for Geralt's more raw, wild yet still powerful manner. They must've made the most explosive couple in the country, and Jaskier has to wonder why it didn't work out when they make such a lovely pair. Maybe they were too explosive.
"That's me! Jaskier at your service - but there's nothing little about my videos." He winks at her, shameless as usual. Geralt had told him she would eat him alive and honestly? Jaskier wouldn't mind being eaten by her. But it's not what's happening here. This woman is playing a game - Jaskier isn't sure what kind of game, exactly, but he isn't about to be left out.
And fuck, she's good, because that comment about her daughter's virtue? Throws Jaskier off his game on the spot. His eyes widen and he internally panics - in another context, he would've flirted a little more, said something no virtue out there being safe from his charms. But after how much of a creep he's felt today, well... better not make things worse with Geralt.
So his reply is a snort instead. "No virtues for you to be worried about around here, rest assured." He nods then. "A pity indeed! Feel free to add me on social media, there's no reason why this first meeting should also be the last."
There are so many questions burning in his tongue, but the call is coming to an end and Jaskier can only wave at her before pulling back to allow Geralt to get to the dryer. Mr DILF is avoiding his eyes, Jaskier can tell, is he embarrassed by what just happened? That would be cute. He only hopes he isn't angry at him, he was only trying to help!
"Sooooo~ That was your ex, huh? She-- ah, thanks." Jaskier catches his clothes and throws the damp towel to Geralt in return. Having to escape through many windows through the years means he's capable of dressing up as quickly as he can undress, but this time, he's going to take his sweet time with it. Can't let this conversation be over soon! "She seemed lovely. Intense, too, but in a good way. I can't fault your taste." He winks at Geralt then - it's not creepy because it's not flirting! It's teasing! Big difference! "You two seem to get along - I bet that's wonderful for Cirilla."
Well, that nightmare's over now, and hopefully it never has a repeat. Geralt doesn't need the headache of his ex-not wife becoming... whatever that was with his client-acquaintance. The man that he takes on trail rides and picks berries with and lets use his shower. Look, he doesn't know what this relationship is, and he's honestly not even the person who should be asked. What he knows right now is that he doesn't want him to interact with Yennefer any more than is absolutely necessary, for the sake of his own blood pressure. The things Yen knows about him alone--
Geralt catches the towel one-handed when it's tossed back to him, then tosses it downstairs towards the laundry room. He'd take care of it later, add it in with another load that he'll have to do once he has enough dirty towels and sheets and such. He turns back in time to see Jaskier wink at him about his choice in... baby mama, and he knows that his face does something. There's a whole face journey that happens in response to that wink, too quickly for him to tamp down on it.
"I'm not setting you up with Yen," he says, and he deeply hates the fact that this is the second time that he's had to say this. "She would eat you alive."
And now Jaskier at least has some idea about why Geralt tells him this. Yen's a terrifying woman who somehow lives off of wine and three square meals of unsuspecting men a day. Geralt is perhaps the exception, but of the kind that proves the rule.
Instead of continuing on this deeply uncomfortable line of conversation, Geralt retrieves some of the baskets of berries and starts separating them into containers so that Jaskier could take some of his hard-earned bounty home. A good assortment of each kind, since Geralt had no idea which ones he'd prefer and had the rising need to get him out of his house before he started asking more questions about his ex-baby mama.
"Take some of these," he says, indicating the large containers that he'd filled up with berries. "You should call for your ride, it's a good hike back to town."
That is -indeed- a whole face journey, damn. Jaskier squints at Geralt, wondering what is bothering him now. It can't possibly be-- oh for fuck's sake. This again? Seriously?
"Bloody hell!" he exclaims as he throws his hands in the air with obvious frustration. "How dense can you be, you big oaf? I'm not asking you to set me up with anyone, I'm fucking teasing you! You know, like friends do? Because- oh, what was it that I told you earlier? Ah, yes, because I want to get to know you better."
A huff. How much clearer can he be? And to think they had been making some progress in that area, too, but the soft moment of touching and sharing is obviously gone. Geralt goes from pushing him away to being soft then back to pushing in seconds, and Jaskier thinks he should make Hot'n'col the first song on his Geralt playlist.
You change your mind like a girl changes her clothes. Yeah you PMS like a bitch, I'd know.
Not only the moment is gone and the coversation is being completely ignored, Jaskier is also pretty much... well... being kicked out. Fuck. He knows he shouldn't impose but having a beer or coffee together after some activity shouldn't be a big deal, right? Why can't they just hang out as friends do? (Never mind the fact they technically just did.)
Jaskier considers doing some pushing but decides against it in the end. He's already been enough of a creep today, and clearly the subject of his ex isn't welcome. Geralt has already shared quite a lot (for his standards) during their little moment there, he's probably already hit his daily socializing quota. Mumbling a thank you, Jaskier grabs the containers and puts them in his tote bag before taking out his phone to call for his ride - the notification that awaits him when he unlocks the screen takes him by surprise.
"She's following me now! On twitter! Yennefer Vengerberg, that's her, right?" His thumb quickly scrolls through her feed, and Jaskier can only wolf-whistle. "A lawyer that actually fights for what truly matters? I never thought I'd see the day. Impressive."
As far as he knows, all lawyers are spawns of the devil. He follows her back, of course, and makes a mental note to slide into her DMs later. This is the kind of contact he wants to have, and professional interest aside, she sincerely seems like an interesting person to befriend. Cirilla is a lucky daughter.
Once his ride has been ordered, Jaskier puts his phone away and turns to Geralt, speaking after worrying his lower lip for a second. Welp, here goes nothing.
"Hey," he says with a soft voice. "Whenever I become friends with a fellow bookworm, I like asking them to choose a book in their library that means something to them and lend it to me. You can tell a lot about a person through the art they enjoy, and it's a great topic of conversation to share. Would you... would you lend me your wolf book?"
Geralt makes to outward objection to this; he just finishes up with the berries, loading them into their containers that he can put into the freezer so that they'll stay fresh for a good, long while. Yen's going to have a direct line of communication to someone who is in frequent contact with Geralt and whom she knows he's been... somewhat friendly with. Yen deeply enjoys his discomfort. Yen probably knows that Jaskier would immediately inform him that she's following him on social media. She's probably pouring herself a glass of wine right now and relishing the thought of him being in this situation.
"She's very good at what she does," he says, if only because defending her career is second nature to him. Yen's got drive and ambition and the burning desire to say fuck you to a bunch of crusty old men who think they can stomp all over people. That's one of the reasons why she's always been too good for him, why it's for the best that she left him behind and never looked back.
There are a few moments of silence while Jaskier orders up his ride and Geralt puts things away in his kitchen. Then-- a very soft request, one that sounds terribly earnest. He wants a book from Geralt's collection, specifically the one that was so important to him as a kid. And that's a lot to ask of him, because it's not just that he wants to read the book, he wants to read Geralt's copy of the book. The copy that he's had for years, the one that has all the commentary that he and his brothers wrote in the margins and parts highlighted that they liked. The one that has a crude little drawing of a dick that Lambert drew in the margins during one of the sex scenes, because he was a shitty thirteen year old who thought it was funny.
Geralt considers it for a moment, leaning against his countertop, not looking at Jaskier. Then he pushes himself upright and walks over to his bookshelf, taking the old, battered book down from it. It's been obviously well-loved-- the spine cracked, pages bent and discolored. It's not the prettiest paperback, but it's still holding together. He brings it over and holds it out for the musician to take.
For a moment there, Jaskier thinks he's fucked up big time, crossed the line he's been toying with since he met this man. But suddenly Geralt is moving, walking over to his bookshelf, and Jaskier lets out a breath he didn't realize he had been even holding. The smile that appears on his face when Geralt hands him the book is so bright it could light up the entire ranch.
"YES! I promise!" He grabs the book as carefully as he can, treating it as if it was made of glass. Well-loved is an understatement, and Jaskier is delighted by every detail - he isn't one to write on books or doggy-ear the pages, but there's nothing like having in your hands the sign of three people thoroughly loving a piece of art. He hasn't even opened it yet and it already makes his writer heart flutter - in fact, he can't help pressing it against his chest like the sap he is. "I'll take good care of it. Thank you, Geralt. Truly."
This is a bad idea, but he can't stop himself: as he gives his thanks, he reaches out for Geralt's hand and gives it a squeeze. It shouldn't be a big deal after all the -ahem- tick checking they did, but Jaskier has reached the conclusion that you can never know with Geralt. And to prove he intends to keep his promise, he takes out a hanky from his bag, wraps the book with it and puts it away not in his bag, but in the pocket of his guitar case. Geralt knows how much care Jaskier takes of his guitar, so hopefully that eases his worries.
As soon as he gets in the car, Jaskier texts his sister a [SCREAMING] gif, and the little shit replies with a TOLD YA gif after he explains what's happened. Jaskier has taught her too well, sigh. She still worries, though, because even after this pseudo-rejection, Jaskier continues to work for this relationship, perhaps a little too much.
Exhibit A: the fact he prepares a package for Geralt the next day with items he purchases especially for this. What's the problem, can't friends buy gifts for other friends? That's his excuse and he's sticking to it, thank you very much. And that's how Geralt will be visited by a messenger in the afternoon, leaving him a black tote bag with the logo of his favorite book painted on it and various items inside. The first one is a note, and the paper is written on should quickly tell Geralt whom this is coming from without having to look at the signature.
Thank you for sharing so much with me yesterday! I had tons of fun. :) I thought I could lend you a special book of mine back, make our own little book club official. The rest of the things are for you to keep, even the bookmark! It's the least I could do after you filled up my fridge with fruit to last me for a while. Looking forward to more invitations like this one! Your new friend, ~Jaskier
The whole thing has been written in gold ink, and the signature has a little flower drawn at the end. Jaskier's penmanship is exquisite, flourish and eye-catching as he is. The next thing in the bag are Geralt's containers being returned after a good wash, and finally, the book itself: a very old copy of Pride and Prejudice. Yes, the classic one from decades ago with a peacock on the cover, because this is Jaskier and he's extra at everything. It's not as "well-loved" as Geralt's book but the signs are still there: the pages are discolored and bent as well, various scratches decorate the hardcovers, and inside there are tons of dried flowers. There's also the mentioned bookmartk, with a quote chosen specifically for their very situation - Jaskier hopes Geralt sees the connection.
Jaskier doesn't start reading the book asap even if he's dying to, he has some work to do on his songs for his gig, and he promised his new gang of friends to go out together to a club soon (and he can't miss that, not after Geralt's "rejection", he needs that one night stand like burning - the fact he ends up picking up a very buff and tall guy to fuck him silly is a coincidence, nothing more). He tries to text Geralt a little less those first few days, which is still a lot for an average person's standards, but hey, it's something. He turns down the flirting as well. When they start reading their respective books, however, all bets are off, and the texting almost becomes spam. Jaskier is loving the monster hunter's adventures, especially the character of the bard (how could you keep him hidden from me geralt!!!) and chatting about it has the same effect on Geralt as chatting about horses: it makes him talk a bit more than usual. Jaskier cherishes every damn text he gets in return. And when after a slow start Geralt admits he's enjoying P&P? He giggles like a goddamn schoolgirl.
Since the state of the wolf book and the notes on it are quite obviously something private, he doesn't take pictures for Instagram, but he does mention in Twitter that he is reading it, which gets him an encouraging reply from Ciri, and an amused message from Yennefer in his DMs. They've been talking since they added each other, and she's honestly great. Her taste is as fine as his own, and she's working hard in defense of women and various minority groups, something that -of course- warms this singer's very own soul. Jaskier has started retweeting all the important things she has to say, and she's actually gained quite a following thanks to the people arriving to her account through him. She isn't a "soft" kind of person, but they do have a little moment when she expresses all her gratitude for the support he sent her way. She goes back to being scary, though, when she asks about the book - she's always very intense when she asks about his relationship with Geralt, and Jaskier can't quite tell what kind of game she's playing yet. That speaks highly of her talents, considering Jaskier grew up with people like her and thinks he's quite talented too at smelling bullshit.
The day of the gig finally comes and honestly? Jaskier doesn't even think Geralt will show up, so he doesn't think about him at all - he concentrates on getting ready and being there in time. The bar isn't crowded by any means but it's not empty either, around three-fourths of the tables are taken and Jaskier considers that a good number for a place that keeps his average fan out.
While he's backstage waiting for his call, his friends help promote him by going around the tables and leaving his business card (which has, to the surprise of no one, a buttercup on the "album cover") for anyone that may want to hire him. It's Priscilla (with her short blue and red dress and her blonde hair up in a messy bun) that approaches the three buffy guys in the back, going through the memorized speech as she leaves three cards on the table.
"--and you can find him in..." She interrupts her own words when her eyes fall on Geralt, squinting for a second at the man as she puts two and two together. "Oh. My. God. You're Geralt, aren't you? The guy with the horses!" She sounds so excited, it's like she's meeting a celebrity. "Jask has told us sooooo much about you!"
Geralt anticipates that he'll get a blow-by-blow commentary on the book as Jaskier reads it; what he doesn't expect is a courier to show up the next afternoon with a package for him that could only be from the musician. The containers for the berries are returned, which is considerate of him even if Geralt really doesn't need them back quite this quickly, and there's a little note in penmanship so neat and precise that Geralt thinks it must be printed until he looks at it closely enough. The rest is-- too much. A tote bag with the logo from the series on it, which Geralt has no idea how he even found because this series was written decades ago and didn't have much merchandise, and a book from, he assumes, Jaskier's own collection. He'd never been all that interested in period romances, but it looks well-loved in much the same way that Geralt's copy had been well-loved, but with fewer notes in the margins, and he has meant to start reading again. Maybe this is a good place to start.
He keeps the book on his nightstand and reads it for a while every night before he goes to bed.
Jaskier texts him, as expected, about the book while he's reading it, telling Geralt about the parts that he likes and expressing false indignation that he didn't tell him about the faithful bard who follows the monster hunter across the land. Of course he would identify the most with the character who spends his life singing songs, sleeping with beautiful people, and getting in trouble-- and being rescued from said trouble by his friend. (Geralt is secretly looking forward to Jaskier's comments once he nears the end of the book-- there's a scene in one of the last chapters where the bard and the monster hunter fall into bed together. It's tame by modern standards, but it had been scandalous when he had been a teenager. Eskel had written the most thoughtful commentary in the margins, and Lambert's contribution had been the aforementioned dick drawing.)
In return, Geralt comments on Pride and Prejudice-- it takes time in the beginning to get him interested in the social intricacies of the British Regency era, but it helps that he enjoys Elizabeth enough to keep at it until the plot picks up a little. It's not his usual taste in literature but he does feel satisfied at the end when Elizabeth and Mr. Darcy get over their respective bullshit and get together, and really that's all that you can hope for out of an ending, to feel satisfied by it.
He does skip one night of reading, though-- when he goes out with his brothers, bar crawling the day before Jaskier's show. He's determined to fix whatever the fuck is wrong with him with a night of meaningless sex, regardless of the vaguely concerned looks that he gets from Eskel the whole time. Lambert, meanwhile... is actually more interested in his phone for most of the night, and Geralt doesn't question it. He does eventually find a woman who seems game, pretty enough with brown hair and big blue eyes and a bright, easy smile, and he's about to ask her if she wants to get out of here when he spots another blue-eyed, brown-haired pretty thing through the floor-to-ceiling windows at the front of the bar. It's Jaskier-- he knows that laugh-- walking down the street with a gaggle of people around him, dressed to the nines. Geralt can only see him for a few moments before he's gone, past the bar and off to wherever it is he's going for the night, and the woman in front of him asks him a question that pulls his attention back to her.
He asks her if she wants to go. She does, and he drives them both to her place on his motorcycle. He fucks her and it's good, and he waits in bed with her until she's asleep before getting up and putting his clothes back on and driving home. He feels restless the whole way back, and even once he's showered and gotten into his own bed, he can't fall asleep.
The next night is Jaskier's show, and Geralt roped both of his brothers into coming despite the fact that he dragged them out the night before, too. Eskel agrees because, regardless of everything, he'll do anything that Geralt asks, and Lambert... probably just wants to see what the fuck all this fuss is about, really. All he knows is that there's this client that Geralt has that wanted him to come to watch him sing, and the first thing that he asked was if Geralt was trying to fuck him-- as though that would be the only reason that Geralt would ever show his face at a bar for some music. When the answer was negative, he seemed unconvinced, but he at least agreed to show up.
So, there they were. Three assholes standing at the bar, the crowd full of people that leaned way more towards the hipster end of the spectrum than they did, drinking microbrew beer and waiting for Jaskier to get on stage. Some pretty little blond girl is weaving between the tables and dipping by the people at the bar, handing something out; she finally makes it over to them and Geralt takes what she's handing to him almost automatically. It's a business card, not that he really needs it since he already has Jaskier's phone number.
She recognizes him. Lambert, who had been paying more attention to his beer than anything that was going on around him up until this point, whips his head around to see what this fresh bullshit is about.
"He... has?" Geralt's brow furrows, mostly out of confusion for what Jaskier could've possibly told this girl that would have her so excited to meet him. Is it the horses? Women do seem to like horses, maybe she also has an interest in riding. There can't be that much else to say about him; Geralt can't say that he's a particularly interesting person. The opposite, really? It's mostly just horses and apparently old books about monster hunters.
"What did he tell you?" Lambert leans towards her, and when she looks confused at his interruption, he adds, "I'm his brother. I know way better stories--
"When will Jaskier be on stage?" Geralt interrupts him back, elbowing Lambert hard enough to get him to stop talking that he nearly spills his beer.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
For some reason, the prospect of Geralt taking his pictures down from the Instagram account is terribly distressing to Jaskier, and he's actually a little startled by his outburst-- it'd be hard to tell, Geralt's surprise mostly consists of staring at him with a furrowed brow, but it seems odd that he'd be so invested in the pictures on Geralt's account. It's not as though his photos reflect on Jaskier's reputation or anything. That's not how social media works, or at least he doesn't think it does. So why would he be so upset about Geralt taking down a few pictures?
Pictures, specifically, of him that a number of other people seem to find very attractive.
That thought kicks around in his head for a minute or so while he frowns at his phone. If these comments had come from anyone else, Geralt might have thought that they shared those sentiments. But Jaskier wouldn't, there's no way that a young, objectively attractive man looking to start a music career would be interested in a middle-aged father who spent most of his time around horses and smelled like it, too. He would be interested in pretty young people like himself, or someone wealthy who liked to pay for pretty young things. Geralt is none of those things.
And he also isn't interested in men, that's important to remember, too.
"Why would you want pictures of me?"
Geralt doesn't even want pictures of himself. Why would anyone else?
no subject
Is it?
"Because... friends..."
His mouth is running out of habit - Geralt asked a question and he doesn't like silence. But he soon closes it, realizing there's no way to salvage this without actually saying I like you. And after that question? The mere thought makes something in his chest hurt.
He soon realizes what it is: he feels like a fucking creep.
Is Geralt truly that oblivious? Is it because of his age, not understanding modern flirting? Because he's straight? Maybe he is queer, but simply not into Jaskier, and the idea of a younger man who values freedom over family life being into him isn't even an option. Or maybe he's asking on purpose to put Jaskier on the spot, considering the context of the thirsty comments they just discussed.
In the end, the real reason doesn't matter, the final conclusion is still obvious: everything Jaskier's done so far it's been 100% one-sided, and the tolerance he thought was there turns out to be in his head. He's no different from an internet anon creeping on him through his DMs, making Geralt feel uncomfortable and wanted only for being a hot piece of meat instead of appreciated for his work at the ranch.
Jaskier has no chances here. Lizzie will be happy to hear that later, he supposes.
There's one thing he hasn't been lying about though, and it's that he still likes this friendship. And if that's all he can get, well, he'll protect it. He looks down at his glass with a sigh, looking disappointed.
"I guess you're right, why would I want pictures from a friend?" He laughs, because the question sounds dumb in his head (he gets pictures from friends all the time and he sends his own to Geralt as well) but also to cover up any embarrassment that can go through in his expression - he still wants to salvage this, even if it has to be platonic. "Delete them, Geralt. I want you to have fun with your account, not to be harassed."
no subject
Is this what young people did now? Is this how he finds out for certain that he's gotten old?
There's a sudden sick twist in his gut, an uncomfortable possibility. He's not... he's not like one of those kinds of old men, going after people a whole decade younger than them because they're young and don't know what they want out of relationships yet. And sure, Jaskier's twenty-eight, not some barely-legal co-ed, but maybe it's overstepping some client boundaries to take him up the mountain alone for something that could, in the right context, look like a date-like activity. Though Jaskier couldn't have thought it was actually a date, he wouldn't have agreed to come if he'd thought that.
Still. He needs to be more careful. Like he'd said with the pictures-- someone could get the wrong idea.
"I'll take care of them later," he says. "Reception's shit up here."
The rest of their totally platonic picnic passes relatively easily-- Jaskier carries the majority of the conversation, being far better at small-talk and that kind of thing than Geralt's ever been. And Geralt tries to at least participate a little, even if he does have a tendency towards one-word answers. Evening's setting in by the time they pack everything up and head back down the mountain, the sunset painting the meadows in shades of red and gold.
The horses get put away for the night with their (lighter, since they'd been grazing all afternoon) dinners, seemingly content to be back in the barn after spending all day out doing... horse things. Mostly standing around and eating grass, but who knows what goes on inside the head of a horse during long summer afternoons.
This would be about the time that he would walk Jaskier up to where his ride would come to get him, then take the turn to head back to his own house. But Jaskier's very much a city boy, and Geralt's had enough city folk come down for trail rides to know that they aren't always aware of what needs to be done post-trail ride. Probably never had to deal with a tick in their lives. He imagines that Jaskier's probably much the same.
"You should tick check yourself before you go back home," he says. "You've probably got a few on you. Use my shower, if you want."
He's certain that Jaskier has at least one on him, because Geralt already picked one or two of them off of himself in the time since they'd come down off of the mountain. If he has them, the musician almost certainly does too-- ticks don't discriminate against prettyboys with guitars. Very egalitarian of them.
no subject
While this little turn of events ends up in heartbreak for him (what a surprise), Jaskier must admit something does improve in this relationship, and that's the conversation. It's not always easy to chat with Geralt when they're on different horses and the man can easily ignore him by making Roach go a little farther or faster. It's not like he's making that much conversation now either, but the fact he's participating at all (even if it's with one-word answers) is a huge deal. It's... well, nice. A nice platonic chat. It reminds Jaskier of why he puts up with his grumpy ass in the first place.
He tries to flirt a little less. He has to wonder if his mannerisms even make it possible.
The day is over a little too soon, although it's probably for the best. Jaskier takes a picture of the beautiful sunset and sings all the way back to the ranch, a calm and thoughtful song about the twists of destiny leaving his lips to match what he's been in his mind since that awfully awkward moment of realization.
After saying his good-byes to Pegasus, Jaskier takes out his phone to order a ride... and freezes when Geralt makes his comment, blue eyes widening.
"...what." That has come out a bit more like a squeal than he intends it to. "Bloody hell, Geralt! This isn't our first trail ride!" He's already putting the phone away and taking off his flannel shirt. "Why is it TODAY that you choose to warn fucking warn me about this?"
He's a little too busy freaking out at the idea of nasty bugs hanging on his body and untying his boots to realize that Geralt has invited him inside and also this was something done back at the Pankratz estate... but by the servants.
no subject
"Don't strip right now, unless you want to walk barefoot to the house," he says, then starts to lead the musician back up the driveway towards his home. "Usually I don't get this many on me just from taking a trail ride, but we usually don't roll around in the underbrush either."
The house that Geralt built is, unsurprisingly to anyone who knows him, very much in a cabin style, a sturdy two-story thing with a semi-basement, made from wood and stone with a deck off of the main floor and a balcony off of the second. Geralt leads him up the stairs to the deck, then into the house that way; that entrance goes right into the living room, the closest one to the first-floor bathroom. A person might be surprised that the house actually seems like it's been decorated rather than just filled with whatever furniture would do, but any cohesiveness in the design is entirely Yen's input. Geralt would have been fine with a house with mis-matched furniture so long as each individual piece was serviceable, but she had taken one step into it and demanded that he run these decisions by her first. Something about not wanting her daughter to spend half of her time in a house full of flannel.
So the end result is cozy, a place that Ciri could be comfortable living in, too, with enough of Geralt's-- as Yen would put it-- bullshit mountain man aesthetic that he doesn't feel like a stranger in his own home. Maybe more soft fabrics and warm colors than he would've used, but Yen kept it muted, subtle. She'd always been better at this sort of thing than him, anyway, so leaving it to her had been a good decision.
She had also, for inexplicable reasons, shown considerable glee in putting a dense faux-fur rug in front of the large central fireplace, regardless of the looks Geralt gave her. He knows what she thinks it'll be used for, but he'd have to be dating someone to fuck them on the rug in front of his fireplace.
Anyway.
"Take off your shirt and jeans," he says. "I'll check you over. Bathroom's over there, you can check the rest when I'm done and rinse off."
It's not a big deal-- he'd done the same thing with his brothers after long days messing around in the woods as kids. Purely practical. There's nothing strange about putting his hands on Jaskier, getting his fingers through his hair.
"I'll toss your clothes in the dryer while you're in there. Heat'll kill anything we missed."
no subject
The fact Geralt is inviting him to his freaking house is finally sinking in, and that instantly gets rid of his indignation, replacing it with a grin instead. The bugs are worth it in exchange for this one more step in this re-... ah, friendship, he reminds himself. Right. Which is why he doesn't make an innuendo joke when Geralt mentions rolling around in the underbrush, no matter he's dying to.
Jaskier has seen the house from the outside every time he's visited, of course, and he's always thought it matches the mountain man motif Geralt has going on. So he expects the inside to match - imagine his surprise when it doesn't.
Alright, that's not completely fair. It does match in theme, it's just... well. It's actually well done! Jaskier wouldn't mind spending time here and even take pictures he wouldn't be ashamed of sharing. There even are a fur rug and a fireplace! Geralt only needs to open a few shirt buttons and it'll be the perfect romance novel cover. Has the rug ever been baptized, he wonders.
...he shouldn't be thinking like that. Friends, friends!
"You have a very nice place here, Geralt. I didn't expect you to have an eye for decoration." He keeps turning on his spot in the middle of the room, taking every detail, wanting to learn more about this mystery of a man - and that's why he's distracted when Geralt speaks, so his mouth works on automatic. "Oh gee, buy a bloke dinner first, you scamp."
His turning stops as soon as he finishes saying that. Everything happens in an instant: first the freezing and the wide eyes, a second later the raising of his hands to gesture, which he can't do because they're busy. His flannel shirt falls to the floor and Jaskier curses under his breath as he drops his bags and his guitar case on the couch.
"Sorrysorrysorry I didn't mean-- I mean--" Fuck. Triplefuck. He is being a creep after all, holy shit. He hasn't been this much of a bisexual disaster in a while. "A shower after a warm day sounds lovely, thank you, my friend."
Yeah, friend. There we go. Smooth as fuck (except he isn't).
Jaskier clears his voice and starts undressing as Geralt requested, at more normal speed this time. Partly because he wants to stick to this whole better-not-come-off-as-flirting deal, partly because he needs a moment for his brain to stop panicking at the fact he's undressing for bloody Geralt. This isn't how he imagined it would happen, honestly. And it's not like Jaskier hasn't been in locker rooms before, but this is definitely different. Geralt will be touching him and inspecting him closely in the privacy of his home and--
Bollocks he mumbles under his breath again as he drops his I'm a luxury you can't afford t-shirt on the floor next to his shirt, and now his lovely (blue and yellow) tattoo and all that freaking body hair are in display. His jeans go off next, and he decides to search the room for a topic of conversation to try to distract himself from the fact Geralt is now seeing him in his underwear.
There's one sock left to take off when he sees it. He frowns, confused and already getting a little annoyed if he's understanding this correctly.
"...Geralt. Have you been lying to me or your daughter just happens to have a huge collection of high fantasy?"
no subject
In response to his dinner comment, Geralt just gives him a single raised eyebrow-- he doesn't take it personally, it's the kind of horseshit that people say in this kind of situation. A way to break the weird tension of having to strip down in front of someone you don't know very well. Jaskier seems oddly flustered by the whole thing afterward, though. He still does what Geralt asked and takes off his shirt and jeans, tossing them into a pile, but he seems keen on inspecting his surroundings more than paying attention to his host. Geralt doesn't stop him; he has to get out of his own shirt so that Jaskier can check his hair and back as well, and to briefly go into the kitchen to fetch a paper towel. Needs to have something to squash the ticks in once he finds them, after all.
He asks about the bookshelves, which are, as he noticed, packed full-- fantasy, horror, classic gothic novels, a few shelves dedicated to those popular young adult novels that Ciri likes. Quite a few of the paperbacks are well-loved, with bent pages and cracked spines. Geralt steps behind him, reaching out with one hand to brush aside some of the hair at the nape of his neck so that he could look at his hairline. Start pushing his fingers through his thick, dark hair, feeling for any ticks that might be hiding there.
"Ciri is a very prolific reader," he says. "But I didn't lie to you. I don't read, I don't have time to anymore."
He used to read, a hobby that he'd really picked up while he'd been in prison. Not much else to do while he was there but exercise, read, and try not to get into any more trouble. Be a model prisoner and try to look nice for the parole board hearings.
"Hold still." There's a suspicious little bump in the hair just behind Jaskier's right ear. Geralt grabs it between thumb and forefinger and pulls, and-- yeah, there's one. First tick of the afternoon. Geralt deposits it on the paper towel and squashes it with a thumb.
no subject
So Geralt had been lying, the bastard! Jaskier wants to huff... but a gasp escapes his lip instead when that a strong yet kind hand touches the nape of his neck. When did Geralt get behind him? How can a man this big be so sneaky? Fuck, his fingers are long and gentle and they're pushing through his hair now - Jaskier swears he could bloody swoon right now.
And if he pushes his head back against that hand, well. Totally an accident. Really.
"Y-you arse." Ah, his voice has come out a little too squeaky, hasn't it? Good lord, this is almost pathetic. He takes a deep breath and tries again, ignoring how fast his heart is beating and how it echoes in his own ears. "Don't play innocent with me, this is the second time you answer with a technicality just to avoid my questions. If you don't want to call it lying then call it bloody cheating."
He knows because he's a word-spinner and he used to pull the same shit on his parents. Not so fun when someone else pulls it on you, mmh, Jaskier?
One would think holding still should be a hard task for Jaskier - and usually it is, ball of energy and all. But it isn't so difficult this time, because he can feel Geralt's fingers on his ear and his body can only freeze as a shiver runs down his spine. His eyes are shut tight and Jaskier tries to think about not erotic things to distract himself from Geralt's hand on him and Geralt's warm breath on the back of his head and Geralt's body being so close and--
Fuck. Valdo Marx in a thong. Sundays spent in church. Spoiled milk. Nasty bugs, like the one Geralt is---
Oh for fuck's sake. This isn't working! It's the silence, it's gotta be. He hates silence, and it makes this moment worse by making it an Actual Moment (TM). He needs a topic of conversation asap. Where were they? Ah, yes. Literature.
"Every portrait that is painted with feeling is a portrait of the artist, not of the sitter," he recites Oscar Wilde as he realizes his chest is flushed now. Dammit, hopefully Geralt doesn't notice. "Is that lovely gothic section yours or your daughter's?"
Do they have books in common? Now that would be as unexpected as the excellent decoration.
no subject
Jaskier holds very still while Geralt takes the tick off of him, presumably because he's taking a gross insect out of his hair. He keeps searching for more as the musician stays silent, focusing entirely on his task. He doesn't want to miss one, after all, and have it bite him. He could get sick from that, if he's particularly unlucky, and he doesn't need Lyme disease or something while he's trying to get his music career off the ground.
He breaks the silence with an Oscar Wilde quote as Geralt's finishing up with his scalp, pushing his ear forward a little and finding a little black dot hiding back there. Apparently the musician's ears are very attractive to ticks, and it takes Geralt a few moments to figure out how to grab the thing and remove it from its awkward location. Thankfully, it's too soon after their trip for the bugs to have bitten yet, so it comes off easily enough once he can grab it.
"Not a whole lot of fourteen year old girls reading Wilde," he says, moving on from Jaskier's hair to the nape of his neck, then down his back. His skin is soft and smooth, clearly well taken care of, and there is surprising strength in the muscles of his back. A splash of color marks his side where the tattoo runs. "They're mine."
His back looks clear, but there's technically one more spot for him to check. Ticks like to hide in dark, warm places, and one of their favorite spots is just underneath waistbands in trousers or, in this case, undergarments.
"Waistband," he says as a warning, then hooks his thumbs over the edge of it and pulls it back. Not much, just enough to see a half an inch or so of extra skin, and it's just as creamy-pale and smooth as the rest of him. Geralt's mouth feels oddly dry; maybe he's a little dehydrated because of the wine.
"You're good," he takes his hands off of Jaskier, and his fingertips feel like they're tingling just a little. "You'll still need to look over the rest of you. I'd appreciate it if you could check through my hair first."
One of the downsides of having his hair long-- it's a lot to check through. But the color of it means that ticks don't blend in at all, so that's one very minor benefit to his premature gray.
no subject
"What?"
-before Geralt is hooking his thumbs over the waistband of his fucking underwear. Jaskier catches his breath and before he can stop himself, he's raising his hand to cover his mouth because he's sure a very embarrassing noise almost escapes him. Geralt is looking at his ass. Geralt is looking at his ass. GERALT IS LOOKING AT HIS ASS! Or maybe he isn't. Is he? He doesn't know what to think, he doesn't know what he wants the answer to be.
Geralt isn't interested in him, he reminds himself. He wanted to be treated like a friend, right? Well, this is it. Dudes being dudes.
Then why does his heart keep on screaming about mixed signals? (His heart has never been good at giving advice, Lizzie would say.)
It's a quick moment that's over soon, but Jaskier feels like it lasts a fucking eternity. It's not helped by the fact Geralt asks him to check through his hair, something Jaskier has wanted to do since he first met him: to run his finger through white locks and let his nails tease the nape of his neck and-- stop.
"S-sure." He gulps before he starts turning around. "If you have a comb I could also help you with--"
Words get stuck in his -suddenly very dry- throat when Jaskier finishes turning and finds himself face to face with the two biggest tits he's ever seen in his fucking life.
That embarrassing squeaky sound from before? Yeah, he can't stop it this time.
Geralt was born chiseled by Michelangelo himself. Every muscle is bulging: his six-pack could be used to wash fucking leather on, those arms are thicker than some of the tree trunks in the forest, and the chest... good lord, that chest. What a mighty chest. Jaskier wants to bury his face in it, to take naps on it, to suck on those perky nipples - PIERCED nipples. Geralt has piercings. On his nipples.
Also a fucking wolf tattoo.
Did they drink all the wine? He needs more wine.
Jaskier realizes he's raising his hand and quickly takes it back - so much for not being a creep. And his voice? The traitor comes out in a high pitch when he speaks.
"...you are a wolf."
His brain is not working right, so that thought is the only thing he manages to say. He isn't talking about the actual animal - Geralt is a wolf in the same way he is an otter. How could he not see it before?
no subject
He calls him a wolf, and Geralt is briefly confused before he follows Jaskier's gaze to the tattoo on his chest. Then he huffs a laugh; really, Jaskier doesn't have a leg to stand on when it comes to tattoos, he's got that giant musical one on his side that's a bit on the nose, too.
He's not aware of the usage of the word wolf outside of the vanilla-- the double meaning goes right over his head.
"I got it with my brothers," he says, which is... something of an explanation, anyway. Doesn't really explain why it's a wolf or why they wanted to get it, but now Jaskier knows that there are brothers involved somewhere. Progress? "Stay here."
He goes to the bathroom to fetch a comb from one of the drawers, then returns with it and hands it over to Jaskier. He takes a seat on the ottoman that's in front of the living room couch, since doing so would put his head at a more convenient height for this sort of thing.
no subject
That huffed laugh brings Jaskier back to reality - a sound he doesn't hear often and it makes him happy when he gets to. Not only that, Geralt is also offering information about himself without Jaskier having to pry for it. How is this fair? How is it that Geralt is finally behaving like a true friend after Jasker arrived to such heartbreaking conclussions? Destiny is one fucking bitch.
He nods when Geralt tells him to wait, watching that lovely bottom leave the room and- ugh, even his back is wide and strong and Jaskier wants to dig his nails on it as he's pounded on the rug-- fuck. Cursing under his breath, Jaskier picks his t-shirt from the floor, makes a ball out of it and presses it against his face so he can scream into it.
Once a drama queen, forever a drama queen. But boy, does it feel good to get that off his chest.
The t-shirt is soon back on the floor and Jaskier quickly regrets it: he may need to scream again after all. How can he not when Geralt is just sitting there waiting for him to take care of his hair? This isn't some anti bug bullshit deal, this is true friendship. He may not know Geralt that well, but he's pretty sure not just anyone gets him like this.
"So, uh. Brothers, huh? Are you the oldest one?"
Conversation is good, it helps him stay focused - besides, he wants to know for real anyway. Two birds one stone and all that jazz. Jaskier picks the comb and the paper towel and moves to stand behind Geralt, but he doesn't quite use his tools yet. First he undoes the hair tie, letting it fall on the floor with his clothes (don't they look good together on the pile, as if they were- no) and quickly runs his fingers through the long locks to take care of the main mess. It's his fault after all! (Yes, that's the excuse he's going with.)
"What does the wolf mean anyway?"
Because obviously it's not what Jaskier thought of. He grabs the comb then and starts brushing, stopping with he finds a tick to grab with the towel. Geralt may know this is happening because of the pause in the combing, but also because there's an ewww mumbled every time.
And if Geralt cares to notice, well - it doesn't seem to be Jaskier's first time combing through someone's long hair.
no subject
The musician asks him a question and he's already offered up a little information about his strange and dysfunctional family. He might as well give a little more.
"No," he says. "Middle. Eskel's a few months older than me."
He'll leave Jaskier to figure out how that works-- for siblings to be only a few months apart instead of at least a full nine. None of them are related.
He's distracted for a bit by the drag of the comb through his hair, the smooth rhythm of it and the indulgence of letting someone touch him this way. He must have had some practice in brushing out long hair-- perhaps because of that sister that Geralt had seen in his Instagram pictures-- because he's gentle when he runs into tangles and knows how to ease them out without tugging too hard. Geralt's not even that gentle with his own hair, he'll rip the comb through if the tangle's being too stubborn. He almost misses the question about his tattoo because he's so enthralled with it.
"Hm, it's nothing, really." Just something gotten when he and Eskel were in their early twenties and Lambert was still technically too young to get a tattoo at all, and they'd lied about his age to get the tattooist to do it. Something that's theirs, because they'd all gone through this same bullshit thing together when they were kids and even if Lambert's a prick and Eskel likes goats too much and Geralt was the surprise disappointment, they'll always be brothers. "A thing from books we all read. About a bunch of monster hunters."
He doesn't move his head to look, because that might dislodge Jaskier from his task, but he makes a little gesture with one hand towards the musician's side. "Ribs are pretty rough to get done."
The tattoo itself is pretty self-explanatory-- musical things for the musician-- but the placement isn't usual for a first-time piece. People usually go for an easier area for the first one, one that won't hurt quite so much or be in an awkward place to take care of.
no subject
The intimacy side of grooming comes with certain vulnerability, too, it can be a little like exposing yourself. And after an afternoon spent being told they aren't really friends? Well, this means a lot to Jaskier. More than once he has to stop himself from letting his hands wander to those broad shoulders and the scars on Geralt's back. He's dying to know how he got them, and he'll sooner or later - they already have a topic to chat about, one Geralt doesn't seem to mind because he keeps offering information about himself without Jaskier having to push too much for it. He couldn't be more delighted.
"You're a middle child!" he exclaims with pleased surprise, his brain not quite catching on that little mathematical issue yet. "So am I! First the writers, now this - turns out we have more in common than we thought, mmh?"
Definitely rubbing this on Lizzie's face later - who is, by the way, the only sibling Jaskier has ever talked about, the only one that has shown up on his social media. He's so pleased by these little discoveries that his mouth is running a little more than usual, without him stopping to think what kind of questions Geralt may ask about it afterward.
The combing slows down and if you ask Jaskier, he'll say it's because he's being careful with all the knots. The truth is, he doesn't want this moment to end. He even considers pretending to struggle to catch the ticks, but he knows trying to touch more than necessary would cross the line into creep-o zone, and so he reminds himself to be thankful Geralt is the kind of manly bloke that isn't against long hair and he can make this grooming session as long as it is already.
"Aww, that's so sweet! Don't call it nothing, you grump. It has meaning for you and your brothers. That makes it important." He's about to ask about those books, but then Geralt makes a question of his own (indirectly, but still) and how can Jaskier not answer? He loves talking about himself, and Geralt actually making conversation is wonderful. "Do you like it?" he asks with a chuckle, his mouth still running without much thinking thanks to the coziness of the moment. "I got it as soon as I got to college. The ear piercings were easy to hide from my parents, but something like this? I had to wait. I consulted many tattoo artists and yeah, some of them were a bit unsure about my choice for a first tattoo. But I knew what I wanted and I wouldn't settle for less."
And that defines Jaskier's view of life for, well-- pretty much everything. For a kid that grew up supposedly having it all, it felt like everything he actually wanted was forbidden. There won't be any of that in his adult life - limits can go fuck themselves. It's Jaskier's way or the highway.
"To quote Beethoven - what I have in my heart and soul must find a way out, that's the reason for music. And one's soul deserves better than a little something on your shoulder, don't you agree?"
no subject
Neither one was better than the other, probably. Jaskier's overbearing proper upbringing or Geralt's latchkey freedom in a house of unwanted boys.
"Hm," he says, because this talk of the richness of souls and such is out of his depth. Too much poetry to it. Geralt has never been good that that kind of thing-- too much metaphor for him. Anything worth saying is worth saying plainly. "Wouldn't know."
He tips his head just a little, to look back at Jaskier out of the corner of his eye. "Finished up back there?"
As nice as it's been to have someone touch him gently, this has been purely for a practical purpose. There's nothing behind it, Jaskier's just been easy on his hair because he's had experience with combing similarly long hair in the past and knows that it can hurt if you yank at it. That's all. Everything is practical.
"I can finish checking myself. You should go wash up, in case there are any more on you."
no subject
As grumpy and antisocial he can be, Geralt is still the very definition of a gentle soul. There's a reason why Jaskier is developing a (very inconvenient considering what he's learned today) crush on the guy, this goes beyond wanting a night on the hay under those mighty muscles. And speaking of inconvenient crushes, here's Geralt noticing Jaskier is taking his sweet, sweet time with the hair. Oops.
"A-ah, yeah! Yeah. I'm done." He jumps back, feeling caught with his hand in the cookie jar. "I'm just-- gonna take that shower now. Yeah, good idea. Be right back."
Good lord, this is new levels of pathetic. That shower will need to be ice cold.
This bathroom seems to be a guest one, Jaskier would guess for the lack of obvious daughter stuff. Which is a pity, because he has been hoping to learn a bit more about Geralt from it. No matter how creepy he thought he had been being earlier, Jaskier continues to be nosy, and that nose is stuck everywhere. Sadly there isn't much to put that nose on, just a bunch of lush products and...
One single bar of basic soap. Unbelievable.
Wait, no, scratch that, it's totally believable from Mr Mountain Man. Jaskier shakes his head at it, half exasperated half fond, and makes a mental note to buy Geralt a nice amenity basket. He gotta give the guy one thing though: the bathtub is damn nice. One could easily invite a date in here and have a bath toge-
Nooooo. Nope. Enough of those thoughts. Gotta wash up quickly, wanking in here is out of the question. So Jaskier starts with pure cold water to get his body under control before changing into something warmer to do the actual washing and checking of ticks in more private areas. What did Geralt think about some hours ago? That Jaskier probably has whole damn concerts in the shower with himself?
Yeeeeah.
"♪ Ooooh, I'm in love with your body. Every day discovering something brand new, I'm in love with the shape of you. ♪"
Look, so maybe (just maybe!) all the touching and uncovering of Geralt's body day has left him... inspired.
(The fact Shape of you ends up stuck in his head and becomes his next cover is a complete coincide, obviously. Not an indication of his crush. Clearly.)
It's a pretty quick shower for Jaskier's standards - he's usually the kind of guy that uses most (if not all!) the hot water. But he doesn't have all his products here, and he's supposed to be behaving less creepily - Geralt already noticed him taking more time than necessary with his hair, no need to have a repeat of that.
He puts his underwear back on after making sure there are no bugs on it, and comes out of the bathroom while still drying his hair off with a towel.
"Geralt, we need to talk about your choice of bathroom products. Where did you get that soap, Hermits-r-us?"
no subject
Geralt disposes of the squashed bugs and then picks up his and Jaskier's discarded clothes, tossing them into the dryer and turning it on to its hottest setting to kill anything that might still be clinging to the fabric. He tosses his own jeans in there, too, just for good measure, and heads upstairs to finish his own quick check and then change into a pair of loose sweats. As he comes back downstairs, he can hear the water running in the guest bathroom, indicating that Jaskier is actually doing as Geralt suggested and rinsing off.
He's only just opened the refrigerator to grab a beer when his phone starts ringing. The call's from Yen, and he answers it just a moment before he realizes that it's a FaceTime call, too. He props the camera up on the counter so that he's reasonably within frame, putting it on speaker so that he can talk to her normally.
"Hello, Geralt." She takes in his mostly undressed appearance with some amusement. "Trying a new look?"
"Just came back in from a trail ride," he says. "Tick check."
"Ah, yes. Another reason why I would never live on the side of a mountain. Well, as promised, I am calling to let you know that your daughter is alive and well despite not being under your endearingly overprotective watch. She's getting changed for dinner right now, otherwise I'd have her say hello."
"Madrid, today?" he remembers that the trip is a few days on mainland Spain before heading to Yen's preferred Ibiza resort. He just can't remember which city it is, or if they're even sticking to the schedule that Yen originally gave him.
"Barcelona. We'll catch the ferry tomorrow afternoon," she says, and her mouth is open to say something else when Jaskier interrupts, making his entrance behind Geralt while drying off his hair. And, because luck is never on Geralt's side, he walks right into the view of the camera, which can only capture him from the waist-up. Considering that he's bare chested at the moment-- with a truly surprising amount of slightly damp chest hair-- it looks like he's just walking around Geralt's house entirely nude.
"Is he still only using a single bar of soap?" Yen says, her focus shifting from Geralt to the musician behind him. "Really, Geralt, would it kill you not to use it on your hair, at least? And you could have warned me that you had company over, I don't want Ciri to see who you're bringing home from dive bars these days."
Geralt grabs for the phone, knocking it over before he manages to pick it up and angle it away from Jaskier. "He was just using the shower, Yen, that's it."
no subject
Hot damn. This is Geralt's fucking ex. And she's getting one hell of a wrong first impression.
After being told over and over that they aren't friends today, Geralt's that's it doesn't sting as much as Jaskier expects it to, probably because he understands Geralt's worry. This could like... look bad in court or something, perhaps? He should do something.
"Actually," he adds in with his voice raised, unsure of how well she can hear him. "I'm a client of the ranch thanks to your daughter's recommendation. ...bollocks, that sounds worse."
How can he-- oh, to hell with it. After hanging the towel around his neck, Jaskier comes closer and puts his hand on Geralt's shoulder as he peeks over it, leaving a wet spot on Geralt's back because of his chest hair. There is, indeed, lots of it.
"My lady." He takes two fingers to his forehead that he quickly lowers as he nods as a greeting, trying to play the charming card. "I assure you nothing of the sort-" He waggles his eyebrows. "-is happening. As Geralt has kindly reminded me today," Sarcastic much, Jaskier? "He doesn't even consider me a friend. Which is, as far as I'm concerned, an impressive pile of bullcrap, but I digress. Geralt here--" He pats Geralt's shoulder. "--is quite the caring and protective father, and he's always made sure I only come around when your daughter isn't around. In fact, he was ready to throttle me when he misunderstood my interactions with the kind Cirilla on twitter, interactions that have always been strictly about music, memes and Lady Gaga's wardrobe choices. I hope this little moment of awkwardness doesn't impact your views on allowing your daughter to enjoy my music and, most importantly, Geralt's capacity to be responsible and safe. Grumpy and brooding he may be, but irresponsible he is not, I swear on my guitar."
He rests his chin on Geralt's shoulder then, offering his best innocent eyes and charming smile. He can see "Yen" better now and fuck, with these two as parents? Cirilla may become the most beautiful woman in the entire fucking world.
no subject
"Oh, I am well aware of Geralt's protective tendencies. He just so rarely brings anyone back to the house, even... friends."
Yen is enjoying this. Geralt knows that Yen is enjoying this, and she knows that he knows that she's enjoying this, because she's always enjoyed pushing at him and making him uncomfortable. Thinks it's funny. She is delighted by the kind of discomfort that she can see in him right now, especially when Jaskier puts his chin on his shoulder and Geralt doesn't move him. He's still a little damp from the shower, and the texture of his chest hair is slightly rough against the skin of his back, which is a fact that should not be important but is somehow impossible to ignore.
"You're that musician from YouTube, aren't you? I don't see any reason to keep Ciri from watching your little videos, you seem quite harmless." She fixes Jaskier with her violet-eyed gaze, and Geralt knows from personal experience that she has eyes like gimlets. They pierce right through you. "Maybe I shouldn't be worried about my daughter's virtue, hm?"
An odd way to put it, Geralt thinks. Yen's assessments are usually right, and Geralt does generally agree with it-- Jaskier's harmless to Ciri. She smiles, and her lipstick today is a bright, bloody red.
"It's a shame that I'm out of the country right now, Jaskier. I might have liked to meet you in person, I think we would have a lot to talk about."
Geralt's frown deepens; Jaskier isn't Yen's usual type. And he would know, because her usual type is more like him, someone who looks strong and intimidating that she can get underneath her immaculate heels. And she's good at that, too, but that's a trip down memory lane that Geralt doesn't need to go on right now.
He is saved by the buzzing of the dryer.
"I need to get that. We'll talk later, Yen."
"Oh, of course, Geralt. Have a good night."
He hangs up the phone and it's a relief to no longer see her face, which is a first. Geralt moves away from Jaskier to get the clothes out of the dryer, not stopping to look at him because he's. Mostly undressed, and Geralt shouldn't gawk at him. Though why would he stare at all, they're two men, it's not as though he's got a mostly naked woman in his living room.
"Here." He tosses the musician's clothes at him, still warm from the dryer.
no subject
Her eyes sure are piercing, as intense as Geralt's even. Her strength is in the way she carries herself, in the way she uses her words, a perfect companion for Geralt's more raw, wild yet still powerful manner. They must've made the most explosive couple in the country, and Jaskier has to wonder why it didn't work out when they make such a lovely pair. Maybe they were too explosive.
"That's me! Jaskier at your service - but there's nothing little about my videos." He winks at her, shameless as usual. Geralt had told him she would eat him alive and honestly? Jaskier wouldn't mind being eaten by her. But it's not what's happening here. This woman is playing a game - Jaskier isn't sure what kind of game, exactly, but he isn't about to be left out.
And fuck, she's good, because that comment about her daughter's virtue? Throws Jaskier off his game on the spot. His eyes widen and he internally panics - in another context, he would've flirted a little more, said something no virtue out there being safe from his charms. But after how much of a creep he's felt today, well... better not make things worse with Geralt.
So his reply is a snort instead. "No virtues for you to be worried about around here, rest assured." He nods then. "A pity indeed! Feel free to add me on social media, there's no reason why this first meeting should also be the last."
There are so many questions burning in his tongue, but the call is coming to an end and Jaskier can only wave at her before pulling back to allow Geralt to get to the dryer. Mr DILF is avoiding his eyes, Jaskier can tell, is he embarrassed by what just happened? That would be cute. He only hopes he isn't angry at him, he was only trying to help!
"Sooooo~ That was your ex, huh? She-- ah, thanks." Jaskier catches his clothes and throws the damp towel to Geralt in return. Having to escape through many windows through the years means he's capable of dressing up as quickly as he can undress, but this time, he's going to take his sweet time with it. Can't let this conversation be over soon! "She seemed lovely. Intense, too, but in a good way. I can't fault your taste." He winks at Geralt then - it's not creepy because it's not flirting! It's teasing! Big difference! "You two seem to get along - I bet that's wonderful for Cirilla."
no subject
Geralt catches the towel one-handed when it's tossed back to him, then tosses it downstairs towards the laundry room. He'd take care of it later, add it in with another load that he'll have to do once he has enough dirty towels and sheets and such. He turns back in time to see Jaskier wink at him about his choice in... baby mama, and he knows that his face does something. There's a whole face journey that happens in response to that wink, too quickly for him to tamp down on it.
"I'm not setting you up with Yen," he says, and he deeply hates the fact that this is the second time that he's had to say this. "She would eat you alive."
And now Jaskier at least has some idea about why Geralt tells him this. Yen's a terrifying woman who somehow lives off of wine and three square meals of unsuspecting men a day. Geralt is perhaps the exception, but of the kind that proves the rule.
Instead of continuing on this deeply uncomfortable line of conversation, Geralt retrieves some of the baskets of berries and starts separating them into containers so that Jaskier could take some of his hard-earned bounty home. A good assortment of each kind, since Geralt had no idea which ones he'd prefer and had the rising need to get him out of his house before he started asking more questions about his ex-baby mama.
"Take some of these," he says, indicating the large containers that he'd filled up with berries. "You should call for your ride, it's a good hike back to town."
no subject
"Bloody hell!" he exclaims as he throws his hands in the air with obvious frustration. "How dense can you be, you big oaf? I'm not asking you to set me up with anyone, I'm fucking teasing you! You know, like friends do? Because- oh, what was it that I told you earlier? Ah, yes, because I want to get to know you better."
A huff. How much clearer can he be? And to think they had been making some progress in that area, too, but the soft moment of touching and sharing is obviously gone. Geralt goes from pushing him away to being soft then back to pushing in seconds, and Jaskier thinks he should make Hot'n'col the first song on his Geralt playlist.
You change your mind like a girl changes her clothes. Yeah you PMS like a bitch, I'd know.
Not only the moment is gone and the coversation is being completely ignored, Jaskier is also pretty much... well... being kicked out. Fuck. He knows he shouldn't impose but having a beer or coffee together after some activity shouldn't be a big deal, right? Why can't they just hang out as friends do? (Never mind the fact they technically just did.)
Jaskier considers doing some pushing but decides against it in the end. He's already been enough of a creep today, and clearly the subject of his ex isn't welcome. Geralt has already shared quite a lot (for his standards) during their little moment there, he's probably already hit his daily socializing quota. Mumbling a thank you, Jaskier grabs the containers and puts them in his tote bag before taking out his phone to call for his ride - the notification that awaits him when he unlocks the screen takes him by surprise.
"She's following me now! On twitter! Yennefer Vengerberg, that's her, right?" His thumb quickly scrolls through her feed, and Jaskier can only wolf-whistle. "A lawyer that actually fights for what truly matters? I never thought I'd see the day. Impressive."
As far as he knows, all lawyers are spawns of the devil. He follows her back, of course, and makes a mental note to slide into her DMs later. This is the kind of contact he wants to have, and professional interest aside, she sincerely seems like an interesting person to befriend. Cirilla is a lucky daughter.
Once his ride has been ordered, Jaskier puts his phone away and turns to Geralt, speaking after worrying his lower lip for a second. Welp, here goes nothing.
"Hey," he says with a soft voice. "Whenever I become friends with a fellow bookworm, I like asking them to choose a book in their library that means something to them and lend it to me. You can tell a lot about a person through the art they enjoy, and it's a great topic of conversation to share. Would you... would you lend me your wolf book?"
no subject
Geralt makes to outward objection to this; he just finishes up with the berries, loading them into their containers that he can put into the freezer so that they'll stay fresh for a good, long while. Yen's going to have a direct line of communication to someone who is in frequent contact with Geralt and whom she knows he's been... somewhat friendly with. Yen deeply enjoys his discomfort. Yen probably knows that Jaskier would immediately inform him that she's following him on social media. She's probably pouring herself a glass of wine right now and relishing the thought of him being in this situation.
"She's very good at what she does," he says, if only because defending her career is second nature to him. Yen's got drive and ambition and the burning desire to say fuck you to a bunch of crusty old men who think they can stomp all over people. That's one of the reasons why she's always been too good for him, why it's for the best that she left him behind and never looked back.
There are a few moments of silence while Jaskier orders up his ride and Geralt puts things away in his kitchen. Then-- a very soft request, one that sounds terribly earnest. He wants a book from Geralt's collection, specifically the one that was so important to him as a kid. And that's a lot to ask of him, because it's not just that he wants to read the book, he wants to read Geralt's copy of the book. The copy that he's had for years, the one that has all the commentary that he and his brothers wrote in the margins and parts highlighted that they liked. The one that has a crude little drawing of a dick that Lambert drew in the margins during one of the sex scenes, because he was a shitty thirteen year old who thought it was funny.
Geralt considers it for a moment, leaning against his countertop, not looking at Jaskier. Then he pushes himself upright and walks over to his bookshelf, taking the old, battered book down from it. It's been obviously well-loved-- the spine cracked, pages bent and discolored. It's not the prettiest paperback, but it's still holding together. He brings it over and holds it out for the musician to take.
"...Try to get it back to me in one piece."
no subject
"YES! I promise!" He grabs the book as carefully as he can, treating it as if it was made of glass. Well-loved is an understatement, and Jaskier is delighted by every detail - he isn't one to write on books or doggy-ear the pages, but there's nothing like having in your hands the sign of three people thoroughly loving a piece of art. He hasn't even opened it yet and it already makes his writer heart flutter - in fact, he can't help pressing it against his chest like the sap he is. "I'll take good care of it. Thank you, Geralt. Truly."
This is a bad idea, but he can't stop himself: as he gives his thanks, he reaches out for Geralt's hand and gives it a squeeze. It shouldn't be a big deal after all the -ahem- tick checking they did, but Jaskier has reached the conclusion that you can never know with Geralt. And to prove he intends to keep his promise, he takes out a hanky from his bag, wraps the book with it and puts it away not in his bag, but in the pocket of his guitar case. Geralt knows how much care Jaskier takes of his guitar, so hopefully that eases his worries.
As soon as he gets in the car, Jaskier texts his sister a [SCREAMING] gif, and the little shit replies with a TOLD YA gif after he explains what's happened. Jaskier has taught her too well, sigh. She still worries, though, because even after this pseudo-rejection, Jaskier continues to work for this relationship, perhaps a little too much.
Exhibit A: the fact he prepares a package for Geralt the next day with items he purchases especially for this. What's the problem, can't friends buy gifts for other friends? That's his excuse and he's sticking to it, thank you very much. And that's how Geralt will be visited by a messenger in the afternoon, leaving him a black tote bag with the logo of his favorite book painted on it and various items inside. The first one is a note, and the paper is written on should quickly tell Geralt whom this is coming from without having to look at the signature.
Thank you for sharing so much with me yesterday! I had tons of fun. :)
I thought I could lend you a special book of mine back, make our own little book club official.
The rest of the things are for you to keep, even the bookmark! It's the least I could do after you filled up my fridge with fruit to last me for a while.
Looking forward to more invitations like this one!
Your new friend,
~Jaskier
The whole thing has been written in gold ink, and the signature has a little flower drawn at the end. Jaskier's penmanship is exquisite, flourish and eye-catching as he is. The next thing in the bag are Geralt's containers being returned after a good wash, and finally, the book itself: a very old copy of Pride and Prejudice. Yes, the classic one from decades ago with a peacock on the cover, because this is Jaskier and he's extra at everything. It's not as "well-loved" as Geralt's book but the signs are still there: the pages are discolored and bent as well, various scratches decorate the hardcovers, and inside there are tons of dried flowers. There's also the mentioned bookmartk, with a quote chosen specifically for their very situation - Jaskier hopes Geralt sees the connection.
Jaskier doesn't start reading the book asap even if he's dying to, he has some work to do on his songs for his gig, and he promised his new gang of friends to go out together to a club soon (and he can't miss that, not after Geralt's "rejection", he needs that one night stand like burning - the fact he ends up picking up a very buff and tall guy to fuck him silly is a coincidence, nothing more). He tries to text Geralt a little less those first few days, which is still a lot for an average person's standards, but hey, it's something. He turns down the flirting as well. When they start reading their respective books, however, all bets are off, and the texting almost becomes spam. Jaskier is loving the monster hunter's adventures, especially the character of the bard (how could you keep him hidden from me geralt!!!) and chatting about it has the same effect on Geralt as chatting about horses: it makes him talk a bit more than usual. Jaskier cherishes every damn text he gets in return. And when after a slow start Geralt admits he's enjoying P&P? He giggles like a goddamn schoolgirl.
Since the state of the wolf book and the notes on it are quite obviously something private, he doesn't take pictures for Instagram, but he does mention in Twitter that he is reading it, which gets him an encouraging reply from Ciri, and an amused message from Yennefer in his DMs. They've been talking since they added each other, and she's honestly great. Her taste is as fine as his own, and she's working hard in defense of women and various minority groups, something that -of course- warms this singer's very own soul. Jaskier has started retweeting all the important things she has to say, and she's actually gained quite a following thanks to the people arriving to her account through him. She isn't a "soft" kind of person, but they do have a little moment when she expresses all her gratitude for the support he sent her way. She goes back to being scary, though, when she asks about the book - she's always very intense when she asks about his relationship with Geralt, and Jaskier can't quite tell what kind of game she's playing yet. That speaks highly of her talents, considering Jaskier grew up with people like her and thinks he's quite talented too at smelling bullshit.
The day of the gig finally comes and honestly? Jaskier doesn't even think Geralt will show up, so he doesn't think about him at all - he concentrates on getting ready and being there in time. The bar isn't crowded by any means but it's not empty either, around three-fourths of the tables are taken and Jaskier considers that a good number for a place that keeps his average fan out.
While he's backstage waiting for his call, his friends help promote him by going around the tables and leaving his business card (which has, to the surprise of no one, a buttercup on the "album cover") for anyone that may want to hire him. It's Priscilla (with her short blue and red dress and her blonde hair up in a messy bun) that approaches the three buffy guys in the back, going through the memorized speech as she leaves three cards on the table.
"--and you can find him in..." She interrupts her own words when her eyes fall on Geralt, squinting for a second at the man as she puts two and two together. "Oh. My. God. You're Geralt, aren't you? The guy with the horses!" She sounds so excited, it's like she's meeting a celebrity. "Jask has told us sooooo much about you!"
no subject
He keeps the book on his nightstand and reads it for a while every night before he goes to bed.
Jaskier texts him, as expected, about the book while he's reading it, telling Geralt about the parts that he likes and expressing false indignation that he didn't tell him about the faithful bard who follows the monster hunter across the land. Of course he would identify the most with the character who spends his life singing songs, sleeping with beautiful people, and getting in trouble-- and being rescued from said trouble by his friend. (Geralt is secretly looking forward to Jaskier's comments once he nears the end of the book-- there's a scene in one of the last chapters where the bard and the monster hunter fall into bed together. It's tame by modern standards, but it had been scandalous when he had been a teenager. Eskel had written the most thoughtful commentary in the margins, and Lambert's contribution had been the aforementioned dick drawing.)
In return, Geralt comments on Pride and Prejudice-- it takes time in the beginning to get him interested in the social intricacies of the British Regency era, but it helps that he enjoys Elizabeth enough to keep at it until the plot picks up a little. It's not his usual taste in literature but he does feel satisfied at the end when Elizabeth and Mr. Darcy get over their respective bullshit and get together, and really that's all that you can hope for out of an ending, to feel satisfied by it.
He does skip one night of reading, though-- when he goes out with his brothers, bar crawling the day before Jaskier's show. He's determined to fix whatever the fuck is wrong with him with a night of meaningless sex, regardless of the vaguely concerned looks that he gets from Eskel the whole time. Lambert, meanwhile... is actually more interested in his phone for most of the night, and Geralt doesn't question it. He does eventually find a woman who seems game, pretty enough with brown hair and big blue eyes and a bright, easy smile, and he's about to ask her if she wants to get out of here when he spots another blue-eyed, brown-haired pretty thing through the floor-to-ceiling windows at the front of the bar. It's Jaskier-- he knows that laugh-- walking down the street with a gaggle of people around him, dressed to the nines. Geralt can only see him for a few moments before he's gone, past the bar and off to wherever it is he's going for the night, and the woman in front of him asks him a question that pulls his attention back to her.
He asks her if she wants to go. She does, and he drives them both to her place on his motorcycle. He fucks her and it's good, and he waits in bed with her until she's asleep before getting up and putting his clothes back on and driving home. He feels restless the whole way back, and even once he's showered and gotten into his own bed, he can't fall asleep.
The next night is Jaskier's show, and Geralt roped both of his brothers into coming despite the fact that he dragged them out the night before, too. Eskel agrees because, regardless of everything, he'll do anything that Geralt asks, and Lambert... probably just wants to see what the fuck all this fuss is about, really. All he knows is that there's this client that Geralt has that wanted him to come to watch him sing, and the first thing that he asked was if Geralt was trying to fuck him-- as though that would be the only reason that Geralt would ever show his face at a bar for some music. When the answer was negative, he seemed unconvinced, but he at least agreed to show up.
So, there they were. Three assholes standing at the bar, the crowd full of people that leaned way more towards the hipster end of the spectrum than they did, drinking microbrew beer and waiting for Jaskier to get on stage. Some pretty little blond girl is weaving between the tables and dipping by the people at the bar, handing something out; she finally makes it over to them and Geralt takes what she's handing to him almost automatically. It's a business card, not that he really needs it since he already has Jaskier's phone number.
She recognizes him. Lambert, who had been paying more attention to his beer than anything that was going on around him up until this point, whips his head around to see what this fresh bullshit is about.
"He... has?" Geralt's brow furrows, mostly out of confusion for what Jaskier could've possibly told this girl that would have her so excited to meet him. Is it the horses? Women do seem to like horses, maybe she also has an interest in riding. There can't be that much else to say about him; Geralt can't say that he's a particularly interesting person. The opposite, really? It's mostly just horses and apparently old books about monster hunters.
"What did he tell you?" Lambert leans towards her, and when she looks confused at his interruption, he adds, "I'm his brother. I know way better stories--
"When will Jaskier be on stage?" Geralt interrupts him back, elbowing Lambert hard enough to get him to stop talking that he nearly spills his beer.
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)