Jaskier's fingers start carding through his hair, separating out the parts that have already gotten knotted just from washing it and drying off his hair with a towel. He has very clever fingers, and they feel very nice against Geralt's scalp. He shouldn't let him do this. It's not worth the time it takes for him to do it, anyway.
Then he gets upset about the fact that Geralt's drinking the tea that he put in Geralt's own hand, and that only solidifies his decision to keep on drinking it. You gave it to him, Jaskier, so it's his now. While Jaskier tosses snacks at him and tells him about the dangers of mixing caffeine and weed, Geralt lifts the mug to his mouth, tips it back, and drains a good three-quarters of it in one go.
"It's chamomile, Jaskier," he says. "It doesn't have caffeine in it. That's the point."
But since there are snacks literally thrown into his lap, he'd open them up and try them. He was kind of hungry, anyway? He knows that it's the weed; back when he was a teenager, he could absolutely pack away entire pizzas when he had a case of the munchies. A few bags of chips is basically nothing in the face of two brownies' worth of pot. And there's something very satisfying about eating salty, crunchy, unhealthy food at stupid o'clock at night. Probably part of the reason why bar food is so popular, after a few beers and too many hours spent out, you just really need a plate full of something greasy.
That, combined with the almost meditative pull of the comb and brush through his hair, makes it easy to fall into companionable silence. Jaskier's much gentler about getting the knots out of his hair than he is, too-- he would just yank the comb through if he needed to de-tangle his hair and it was being stubborn. The musician holds locks of his hair and brushes from the bottom up so that it wouldn't tug on his scalp. Takes longer that way, but leaves him with fewer clumps of white hair on the floor. Again, it's really not necessary, Geralt is capable of dealing with a little discomfort, but it's considerate of him.
"Hm." More questions. Geralt's not entirely sure why Jaskier cares, but apparently he does. Or he just can't stand silence, that's also possible. "Brown. And yes, my dad was terrible at haircuts."
He learned from a very young age that it was better to just let his hair grow out than to trust Vesemir and his questionable scissor skills. And since they didn't have the money to take three rambunctious boys to a salon to get their hair cut every few weeks, it was either Vesemir or nothing. Eskel and Lambert got the scissor treatment until they were old enough to do it themselves. Which didn't necessarily mean that they made good hair decisions, but at least it wasn't their father's hair decisions.
Not only Geralt doesn't put the mug down, the little shit actually drinks more. Jaskier gasps in exaggerated offense, but honestly? He's kinda amused and even a bit impressed as well. He likes attitude and sass in a man, and it's extra fun when it comes from Geralt, who most of the time would rather grunt.
"I'll forgive you because you know how to identify chamomile."
Which sounds kinda silly, but Jaskier has lost count of all the times he's offered his box of teas and got told whatever, it's all tea anyway. So points to Geralt for that, which makes up for the ones he lost over having just regular bar soap in his bathroom.
While Geralt munches on chips, Jaskier finishes his own cookies, which taste like berries and nostalgia. To this day, Jaskier still wonders how his grandmother ended up married to that stupid family of his - love works in mysterious and fucked up ways, he supposes. Those memories hit extra hard when Geralt mentions his dad being in charge of his haircuts, which makes Jaskier laugh. Oh, what a difference in parents - his own father would never do service for his children like this. The man isn't even capable of taking care of his own stupid beard!
"Your dad cut your hair? That sounds both adorable and terrifying." It also a bit more information about Geralt's childhood, and Jaskier shall treasure it. "While I'm sure you were just as dashing and handsome with brown hair, I admit I like the gray better. You pull it off well. Is it really gray though?" He raises a lock of hair and brings it closer to his face for a better look. "I'd say it's even white under the right li--"
Wait. Is that-? Jaskier sniffs once. Twice. Then asks the gods he doesn't believe in how he ended up crushing on such a himbo.
"Geralt, my dear friend - did you wash your hair with the bloody body wash?"
He should lose points for this, but the asshole manages to be endearing with his... his... himboness.
Terrifying is accurate, but adorable? Not so much. Vesemir's hack-jobs wouldn't look good on anyone, and certainly not on a couple of snot-nosed little brats. Geralt had-- once again-- been weird for being the boy with long hair, but better that than the boy with an uneven chop. Now that he's older and has actually had to raise a child himself, though, he looks back on his years with Vesemir more kindly; the man had been doing the best he could with troubled children.
"Foster dad," he says. Vesemir isn't his father, not that Geralt would know who the fuck that is, anyway. Hell, he barely even remembers what his own mother looked like. Who knows if she's even alive, or if she remembers him.
Geralt only hums about any preferences Jaskier has for his hair color-- it doesn't really matter, it's not like the brown would ever be coming back, even if Jaskier did like it better. He lets him mess around with the pale locks, examining them closely and quibbling about the exact color. Gray, white, it's basically the same thing when it comes to hair, right? Something that you're only supposed to see on men who are Vesemir's age. It really doesn't matter, though, it's not unattractive enough to stop Geralt from getting the occasional one night stand.
"Soap is soap," he replies, absolutely certain that this response will drive Jaskier up a wall for a number of reasons. One, he's clearly the kind of person that has a hundred different kinds of soap even though just one would do the job, and two, he'd hate how short that statement is. No elaboration, no explanation, no room for arguments. Soap is soap.
He turns his head a little, looking back over his shoulder at the deeply offended musician.
"A foster dad that you just called my dad," he replies as he playfully slaps Geralt's shoulder with his comb. "I told you back in the bar, didn't I? The blood of the covenant is thicker than the water of the womb. You and your brothers have only given me glimpses of your life so far but I can already tell he's done more for his kids than some sperm-donors I know that don't deserve the title of father."
That comes out more bitter than he intends it to, but he can't help it considering the environment he grew up with. It wasn't only his own dad that sucked, he had plenty of classmates that also were distracted with expensive gifts while their so-called fathers arrived home late because they were fucking their secretaries. Daddy issues were as common in his school as having the latest iPhone model.
He hopes he gets to meet Geralt's father some day, he must have some amazing stories about fostering these three little rascals.
Geralt's plan is successful, because he's read Jaskier absolutely right: that answer has him gasping and flailing his hands. This is a scandal! This himbo wants to give him a heart attack!
"Soap is NOT soap, how dare you! You, you-!" He has a good insult, he swears he does, but Geralt turns around then and- ugh. Damn his handsome smug face. Jaskier huffs. "No, I'm not done! I just finished the first step! Now turn around and let me do my job!"
Now all knots are gone, it is the turn of the cream tube next. With a little lump of white in each hand, Jaskier buries his fingers in Geralt's hair and massages it kindly - and that includes the scalp as well. He would be lying to himself if he said wasn't enjoying it - it's peaceful. Almost intimate. There is a reason why Jaskier loves making a ritual out of grooming, and he allows himself to smile at the back of Geralt's head for having achieved this little moment with him.
"You can be quite a mystery, you know," he finally confesses with a softer tone. "For every little thing that tells me you are a simple man with simple needs, you surprise me with two other things that leave me thinking for hours. Like a puzzle I'm dying to solve but at the same time I never want it to end."
Geralt turns back around, letting Jaskier continue on his quest to tame his unruly hair. He'd be lying, anyway, if he said he isn't enjoying it a little-- enjoys it a lot, actually, when Jaskier gets both hands going on it. His fingers press and rub in almost a massaging kind of motion over Geralt's scalp and down to where his neck meets his skull, and he gets tense a lot in that general area. And he's got surprisingly strong hands and fingers, probably from playing all of those instruments, and if he would just go down a little lower...
Well. Geralt wouldn't ever ask for something like that, even while high. His threshold for asking for touch is significantly lower when he's like this, but it's not completely gone.
Jaskier talks about puzzles for a bit, and Geralt thinks that if he's a puzzle, it's an exceedingly simple one. Not terribly hard to figure out and not much of a payoff once you do. Hardly worth finishing, honestly.
"I don't need much," he says. And it's true-- he has few things that he requires, and almost all of those he can provide for himself. He rarely needs someone else, and when he does, it's not for very long. Help from his brothers for a project or a warm touch from a one-night stand.
"Maybe you're seeing complexity where there isn't any."
After all, what's complex about Geralt? He has few needs and fewer wants. His life revolves around his daughter and his horses. The number of friends that he has who aren't family can probably be counted on one hand with fingers left over. His life is simple and that works for him. He doesn't need to push his luck.
Really, Jaskier's the one who's bafflingly complex around here. He obviously loves the city and being surrounded by people, but he insists on being... friend-adjacent with a man who prefers the countryside and keeps the company of horses. He wears pretty, fancy clothes that are probably expensive and has soft hands and soft hair and a million different bottles of hair and skincare things, but he doesn't mind mucking out a stall or washing the mud off Pegasus after he's had a roll in the pasture. He's cheerful in the face of Geralt's dour moods. They should have repelled each other like magnets, but instead... well, they've attracted like magnets. But the other way around. How does that work, anyway? Wait, no, he's too high to get lost in wondering how magnets work.
"Or perhaps you don't give yourself enough credit," he replies after letting out a thoughtful mmh. "I can't help but wonder - do you actually need little, my friend? Or is a little as much as you allow yourself to ask for?"
His answer comes out too quickly, too easily. It's because he's said similar things before, he realizes: when talking to his sister. Elizabeth can't understand what Jaskier sees in Geralt for this to be a full crush instead of just lust, and she keeps questioning him about it, which gets on his nerves. It's not like she's mean towards Geralt at least, he does give her that much, she accepts he's a good man and probably a good catch... for someone else. Not for his brother aka Mr Fun and Freedom.
Jaskier sighs as his hands slowly stop moving, he cannot make this last any longer, no matter how much he's dying to keep on touching Geralt. He grabs the brush next and gets to work once again, going for long, kind strokes in the way he couldn't do with the comb, and finding himself singing All I wanna do by Sheryl Crow.
There's more about Geralt than it meets the eye, Jaskier is sure of it. It doesn't matter how much his sister or even Geralt himself deny it. The man pushes away yet no far enough for Jaskier not to be out of his life, he complains yet he doesn't act on it. He grunts and dismisses ideas like friendship, yet he invites Jaskier to pick berries and watch his show, even bringing his brothers with him.
What drives this man? And what hurt him? An awful question, but one Jaskier can't stop thinking about, because something must've happened to him to make him enjoy little things only through denial and possibly guilt.
And there's also the fact Jaskier simply doesn't have boring crushes. His heart knows better than that.
The question is, will the magnets still attract each other after the puzzle is solved?
That's what is probably worrying Lizzie, Jaskier realizes. That he'll eventually get bored when there's no mystery left. Honestly though... if it happens, so what? Can't he have a little happiness even if temporary? Nothing lasts forever... Not that there is anything here to last anyway. Or is there? Jaskier isn't sure anymore. Signals have been more mixed than a milkshake tonight.
The brushing comes to an end too, too short of a moment if you ask Jaskier. Just two more minutes, please! Using the excuse of not wanting Geralt to ruin all his hard work when they go to bed, he hurries to bury his fingers in white hair again, this time dividing it into three parts and quickly forming a neat braid that he secures with Geralt's hairtie.
"There you go, all done!" Jaskier pulls his hands away but stays right where he is, proudly admiring his work, smiling like an idiot at the smell of his own body wash coming off Geralt. "That wasn't so hard, was it? What do you think?"
The musician picks up a brush and starts to pull it through Geralt's hair, long, gentle strokes that mostly serve to smooth out the detangled locks. Between the hair cream and Jaskier's skill with brushes and combs, Geralt's hair has mostly been tamed, falling soft and neat over his shoulders. It's certainly nicer than he'd usually be bothered to do for himself, considering that he usually just throws it back into a bun or a half-up ponytail to keep it out of his face. So long as it isn't bothering him, he doesn't care much what it looks like.
Jaskier hums an old song and Geralt sits quietly.
Even once he sets the brush down, Jaskier doesn't stop; his fingers delve back into the gray hair again, accidentally eliciting a soft noise from Geralt's throat, and start sectioning his hair. He's confused until he feels the soft tugs as each section is woven around the others, forming a long braid down his back. This is a practical thing, he thinks-- Ciri does it, too, before she goes to bed, so that her hair isn't a mess in the morning. It's considerate of Jaskier to do this for him.
When he's finished, Geralt reaches back to touch the braid, feeling along the smooth bumps of it.
"My hair will be less messy in the morning." He doesn't mention that he almost misses the feeling of gentle hands on his skin. It's stupid to want things that he can't have. "Thank you."
They stay there for a while yet, talking about things that don't matter-- or, rather, Jaskier does most of the talking, and Geralt listens. That's fine, it reminds him of when he was young and shared a room with Eskel, and he'd listen to his brother read from books with a flashlight until late into the night. Until they both fell asleep that way, crammed awkwardly onto the same bed, Eskel's cheek pressed against the pages.
He eventually falls asleep here, too-- first coaxed into laying down on the sofa-bed while Jaskier prattles, then slowly lulled by the cadence of his voice. Like a lullaby without a melody, or the white noise machine that was supposed to help with his insomnia. Apparently, all he needed was too much weed and a chatty musician.
His internal clock won't let him sleep in, though, despite forgetting to set an alarm. He's awake at five o'clock sharp, briefly disoriented by the unfamiliar surroundings and the lack of a crowing rooster. He's warm, wrapped up in blankets, long limbs wrapped securely around his middle. A leg is pushed firmly between his thighs, and that's a little bit of a problem because Geralt is a healthy middle-aged man with a very functional circulatory system that likes to prove its level of function every morning. That is to say, he's got some very healthy morning wood going on right now, and he's awake enough to remember that he spent the night at Jaskier's.
Jaskier, apparently, is a cuddler. Geralt doesn't really mind cuddly bed-partners, but he and Jaskier had fallen asleep quite platonically last night, laying side by side. The erection currently pressing against the musician's thigh is not very platonic. And even though that erection might very much like it if Geralt were to roll his hips and maybe wake Jaskier up, that's just a very good reason why Geralt's cock should never be allowed to make decisions. He needs to get up carefully and leave quietly, so that Jaskier never has to know about the awkward situation that he's sleeping through.
He looks peaceful when he sleeps, and he's tucked in close enough that Geralt can smell the sweet floral scent that his fancy soap left on his skin from his shower last night.
Geralt moves quietly and slowly to extricate himself from Jaskier's grip without waking him. He had hoped that, in the time it took to get out of the musician's lax arms, his morning wood would have sorted itself out, but no luck-- he has to collect his clothes from the dryer and awkwardly take care of himself in the bathroom. He stuffs his fist into his mouth to keep quiet, takes himself in hand and tries to think of nothing at all, just treat it like nothing more than a simple biological need that must be taken care of. He doesn't think about firm thighs or pink lips or a swathe of hairy chest peeking out of a partly unbuttoned shirt, the collar slipping over one pale shoulder. Geralt checks his phone once he's tidied up and changed, and he's running late-- fuck, he has to meet Eskel. He texts him that he's going to be late, already dreading the questions that he'll be asked, and grabs his things to leave, until he realizes that if he just walks out, Jaskier's door will be left unlocked.
Fuck.
He approaches the sofa-bed and puts a hand on Jaskier's shoulder, shaking him gently until he wakes, like how he'd wake Ciri when she's sleeping in too late.
"Jaskier. I'm leaving, you need to lock your door when I go."
He doesn't wait long for a response, but heads out after that, once he's sure that Jaskier is awake enough to understand what he's been told.
That soft noise... God. It does things to Jaskier, a tingling on his skin that he concentrates on ignoring before it transforms into a problem in his pajama pants. It's not a big deal (it isn't supposed to be), Jaskier is basically massaging Geralt, so it's natural to express himself like that. Right?
Then Geralt turns around and thanks him, and Jaskier knows every thought of his is basically bullshit.
He doesn't know what to do anymore, Jaskier isn't one to dance about a potential conquest like this. Either he goes for it, or he doesn't - life is too short to hesitate. And yet... here he is, trying to navigate Geralt without a map, GPS or compass, not even the freaking stars to guide him. The man is uncharted territory in Jaskier's eyes, nothing like he's ever flirted with before. He should just ask, he's never been afraid of doing so, but he's never had the potential to lose a friendship as consequence either.
And he wouldn't know what he'd do if he lost this. It's so different from his usual friendships, but in a good way - great, even. There's a comfort in having him laying with him like this, chatting casually with soft music playing in the background. Geralt may not talk as much, but he listens, pays attention to him, and when he does say something, his words never go to waste. It's what Jaskier needs right now - not only because of what happened earlier in the bar, but because there's a huge con to living in complete independence: loneliness. Jaskier is a people person, social and touchy, he hates silence and being alone. His carefree schedule doesn't make him the right person to have a pet, considering the way he can disappear for days at a time without warning (there's a reason why he asked Geralt to help him with the bird feeders after all); and roommates usually want some level of commitment as well.
Jaskier can't have that. He values not having to answer to anyone, so living alone is still the best option for him at the end of the day. But he still craves company, a kind of company that cares about more than just sex and cuddling, and well--
Having Geralt fall asleep like his with him? So trusting and comfortable, not pushing him away when Jaskier comes closer in his sleep? It warms his heart in a way flings simply can't.
After being nervous over his show, the gig himself, the emotionally shaken moment with the talent-scout and staying up with Geralt chatting, Jaskier is exhausted, so he's sleeping quite deeply when Geralt awakes (besides, 5am isn't a time his brain would register as apt to wake up anyway). So when Geralt finally manages to bring him back from dreamland, Jaskier can only reply with a very articulated question.
"--what?"
Blinking at the figure in front of him, Jaskier sits up and lets consciousness slowly return to him, memories of last night filling his mind one by one: riding the bike with his body pressed to Geralt's, falling on the touch under Geralt's might weight, brushing braiding Geralt's hair, falling asleep together and-
...cuddling him...
Fuck. And now Geralt is leaving. By the time Jaskier is fully aware of what's going on and cries out "WAIT!", Geralt is gone. Fuck, fuck, fuck, has it been too much? Has he finally pushed him away? Jaskier looks around the apartment, as if trying to convince his brain that Geralt's presence in it has been a real thing. He finds the rugby shirt on top of the washer and nope, to Jaskier's disappointment, it doesn't smell like Geralt - it smells like his own body wash. There's a mess to be dealt with here, but he's too sleepy to deal with it, so Jaskier climbs under the covers of his couch and sleeps a few more hours, cuddling the t-shirt like a lovesick idiot.
When he wakes up hours later, his phone is exploding with notifications. Boy, today is going to be a day, isn't it? Jaskier sighs and decides it's going to be a pajamas-and-wine-all-day kind of day. He orders food through an app because there's no way he'll cook in his current mood, uncorks a bottle of wine without caring what time is it (he'll need it) and drinks straight from the bottle as he gets comfortable in his couch, ready to deal with all his messes while his This Is Fine (TM) playlist echoes in the apartment.
His run-away-from-your-problems instincts tell him he should leave Geralt for last, but he realizes then he would die waiting for an answer. So a text for his friend(? hopefully?) goes out first, a completely neutrally written message to check on him and test the waters, that way he can distract himself with the other stuff while waiting. Messages are next - he sends a quick thank you to his gang's group chat for coming and for sending him all the pictures and videos they took. They're also asking him for details of last night, and Jaskier decides that for now, it's safer to tell them he just had some drinks and a movie with Geralt until he understands better what is going on.
If he ever does...
And then there's the talk with his sister, who is assuming Jaskier celebrated his big night with a fling, since that's the usual reason why he wouldn't be screaming at her and sending pictures after a successful show. Lizzie does get the whole story, and she's less than amused by it, seeing it all as proof for Jaskier needing to move on because clearly Geralt and her brother aren't compatible. Jaskier pouts and disagrees, and takes revenge by making her uncomfortable by talking about Geralt's giant dick. It's the little things! (Or not so little, in this case.)
By the time food comes, Jaskier has moved onto social media. After posting all the pictures and videos he's gotten his hands on, replying to any post he's been tagged and thanking them as well, Jaskier decides to post the picture of the torn card with a short caption (And a thank you to @ folkwaysrecords for coming and making an offer that included changing who I am! A pity I don't work with homophobic bigots, I guess.) without consulting Yennefer first. To hell with it, frustration is running through his veins at the mere memory, fueled by Geralt leaving like that and his sister's scolding. He WANTS to pick up a fight with someone right now, let out some steam, write some creative insults. Outside some trolls he quickly blocks, though, an argument doesn't come. The tweet gets shared all over, people show their support (including Yen in his DMs, telling him to let her know if someone needs to be destroyed) and the record company ignores the constant mentions of his followers.
He wonders if they're getting a flood of hate. Usually he doesn't approve of crossing the bullying line, but right now, he doesn't give a fuck.
It's the right thing to do. His sister and his friends both congratulate him for being brave, and between that and all the fans speaking up, telling him how important it is for them for Jaskier to make things like this public? Yeah, he's feeling good by the time afternoon comes around. The last thing that ends up helping to improve his mood is Geralt's reply, telling him he just needed to leave because he has a farm to take care of.
Right. Five am. That makes... a lot of sense, actually. It also proves Lizzie right about Jaskier behaving like an idiot about this whole deal, but he doesn't tell her that.
It's back to constantly texting him and visiting the ranch every now and then after that, and Jaskier tries his best to test the waters without pushing Geralt into drowning. He flirts, he drops hints, he asks questions that hide a second meaning behind them. Geralt doesn't react to any of that, behaving like his stoic self as usual, and yet... they have moments when they are alone together in the ranch, there's no other way to describe them. Jaskier is starting to think he needs to write a song for him, something direct, like. You know. Hey, so you're hot as fuck and lots of fun, wanna go out and bang after, but hey if you don't that's cool too, is there a possibility we can stay friends after this? But with more rhyming.
There isn't much time to bother Geralt when June begins, though. Pride is coming and Jaskier has plans to help, even perform if possible. Lots of organization to do, especially if you add the fact this year Pride is the same day as his birthday... But as it turns out, he isn't the only one busy for this event! Yennefer is involved in a bunch of organizations too, and she wants to both genuinely help and get some politics going. So Jaskier agrees to finally meet in person and have brunch together.
Her tastes are as refined as his own, so taking into consideration the summer weather, they choose a modern rooftop restaurant with comfortable couches and wide umbrellas that protect them from the sun. Yennefer wears black dresses no matter the occasion, Jaskier has learned, so he thinks they make the perfect contrast when he shows up with his usual colors - this time a combination of white and red with a touch of purple. He isn't sure who has more rings on, however. It may be a tie.
They don't order quite yet, enjoying their chat while having a drink first - red wine for Yen, piña colada for Jaskier (umbrella with a cherry and a piece of pineapple included, of course). And he can't help choking on said cocktail when he suddenly sees who is approaching the table.
No fucking way.
He gives Yennefer a questioning look as he pats his chest, but she only smiles behind her glass of wine, looking like fucking Cersei Lannister, scheming and proud of herself. He turns to the new arrivals again when he hears Ciri exclaim "finally!" and sees her approach the table a little quicker, probably in reaction to finally getting to meet Jaskier in person. And Jaskier, well...
He can only panic.
His attempt to standup quickly fails since these couches don't allow for a fast, clumsy movement like throwing a chair back would. Jaskier curses under his breath when he hits his knee against the table, and quickly puts his open hands up in a gesture of innocence when Geralt makes their side looking extremely handsome as always.
"I SWEAR I didn't know you were coming, this is all her fault!" He points at Yen (who just shrugs as she grins) before turning to Ciri. "Cirilla, it's wonderful to finally meet you, believe me, but... I made a promise to your dad. Sorry."
When Geralt arrives late to his own home, he knows that Eskel is going to have questions. Pointed ones, considering how he had left him the previous night. And, sure enough, when Geralt pulls into his driveway, he sees Eskel's truck already there and his brother leaning against the fence, drinking coffee from a thermos. He parks and meets up with him.
"You look like hell," Eskel says as he approaches. Geralt grunts in response; being as nonverbal as possible is his best defense here. "And what happened to your hair? You didn't do that, you can't braid for shit."
"Jaskier." It's a short reply as he starts to make his way down to the pasture fences that need to be repaired.
"Jaskier did it? So you stayed over at his place last night?" Eskel grabs his thermos and his tools, catching up to Geralt in a few long strides. "You sure you know what you're doing? I mean, you usually don't shit where you eat, and he's a customer. Got you a lot of your business."
Geralt's mouth twists. "It's not like that."
"Then why did you stay over at his place? It's not like you drank that much at the bar."
"I..." Damn, there's no good explanation for this other than the truth. "He invited me in for coffee and something to eat. He didn't tell me the brownies were special."
"Seriously?" Eskel barks out a short laugh. "You accidentally got fucking high at this guy's house? Holy shit, Geralt."
Geralt shoves him into one of fence posts and tells him to fuck off. Eskel laughs anyway.
Everything goes back to normal after that. Jaskier seems to take the whole odd episode in stride, still texting him and coming by the ranch like he always does. It's good, and Geralt didn't want to have to apologize about it because it had kind of been a decent night. And, sure, it was just because of the weed, but he hadn't laughed that hard in a long time, and it had been an equally long time since he'd just... laid around with someone and talked.
The first week of June rolls around, though, and that means that it's time for the monthly meeting with Yennefer about Ciri's schedule. As usual, she picks the restaurant in town, the reservation set too late for breakfast and too early for lunch. She does have a certain affinity towards brunch. Geralt sees nothing unusual in the appointment, and dutifully brings Ciri, and they arrive a little early-- traffic was lighter than what he had been anticipating. When he walks in, a quick word with the hostess has him heading up to the rooftop terrace with his daughter, where Yen is, apparently, already waiting.
Yen and, unexpectedly, Jaskier.
Ciri is delighted when she sees who's sitting at the table with her mother, getting to the table quickly enough to snag the nearest seat to the musician.
"Dad wouldn't make you leave, you were here first! And we're early, anyway," Ciri says, looking up at Geralt with the kind of doe eyes that he just knows that Yen taught her. "Right, Dad?"
He looks over at Yen, and the color of her lipstick is almost the same as her wine. She's smiling, which is never a good sign.
"Really, don't be rude, Geralt. Sit down, there's enough room at the table for all of us."
Geralt sighs. Both Yen and Ciri are against him.
"Sit down, Jaskier."
Geralt takes the last remaining spot, already wishing that he had something alcoholic in his hand. If Jaskier and Yen are going to day-drink through this thing, he's at least going to have one to ease this social nightmare along.
"I wasn't aware that the plans had changed, Yen," he says. Yen gives him a withering look over the rim of her glass and takes an elegant sip of her wine.
"You're the one who's early. Jaskier and I just had a little business to discuss, so why should I have to go back and forth to meet with the two of you? I'll get it all done here."
"Hm," he says as the waitress comes back, checking to see if the newcomers to the table want something to drink. Ciri orders some coffee drink that she likes, and Geralt opens his mouth to order a beer when Yen beats him to it.
"A mimosa for him."
Geralt shoots her a look as the waitress takes the orders and assures them that the drinks will be out shortly.
"What? You like mimosas but you never order them."
Oh, look at those doe eyes! This girl is a menace, and Jaskier adores her already. Both women gang up on Geralt and Jaskier would be lying if he said he wasn't enjoying this, seeing his serious friend give in to the charms (or more like, scheming) of his beloved family is simply adorable.
Geralt asks him to stay (well, in his own way) and all tension instantly leaves his body - this is fine. They are fine. Jaskier sits down with a huge grin on his face and quickly turns to Cirilla to offer a better greeting and thank her for all her support. While part of him would've loved to sit next to Geralt (let their arms and legs brush, put his hand on his arm when laughing at something, and--), there's nothing like meeting the fans - and this isn't any fan, it's also Geralt's precious daughter, and Jaskier's been dying to meet her just for that. Besides, this way he gets a better look at Yen and Geralt interacting together.
Speaking of... Yen orders for him, and Jaskier's eyebrows could almost touch his hairline. It's a very old married couple thing to do, even if they're exes now, so that's definitely interesting. He should've been getting more dirt from Yen, he realizes. But what surprises him the most is--
"Mimosas?" he asks with a chuckle. "I wouldn't have pegged you for a mimosas kind of bloke, not after all your simple orders of beer and black coffee."
He must've said something funny, because Cirilla giggles and Yennefer snorts. "That's because the black coffee was a lie," Yen clarifies. "He hides his sweet tooth to keep his brooding image."
Jaskier gasps, although it's quite exaggerated - it includes taking a hand to his chest. "And to think I had to make you try my cookies! I'm hurt, Geralt! HURT! Betrayed and affronted!"
"Is this about the day you braided his hair?" Ciri asks, curiosity written all over her face. Jaskier nods, wondering how she knows about that - he seriously doubts Geralt would've shared it... would he? "You did such a great job! Would you do it before his meetings with my teachers too?"
Alright, alright, questioning how they know about the braid is forgotten for now because Jaskier needs to simply laugh his ass off as that request, excuse him for a second.
The black coffee isn't a lie, exactly-- he'll drink coffee however he can get it, and sometimes it's easier to just ask for it black rather than to rattle off his preferred order. People take one look at him and make assumptions, because his big, brutish looks imply certain things about him. He doesn't always have the energy or desire to go against people's expectations of him-- and, really, what's one black coffee or one whiskey when he'd rather have a cocktail? He doesn't want the attention, the looks, the shit from Lambert if he orders something more complicated than a Jack and coke.
Jaskier has a moment of histrionics about the supposed betrayal of having to be coerced into trying his cookies-- which, really, he didn't, he ate them just fine. Especially after that weed had kicked in and he'd gotten hungry.
"Jaskier has better things to do than mess with my hair," Geralt says. The musician isn't a hairdresser, anyway, it's not his job to go around and make sure that Geralt looks presentable. He has music to write and... other things to do, presumably.
At least Jaskier finds it amusing.
"It wouldn't be a bad thing, Geralt, if you showed up to one of these meetings at least looking a bit presentable," Yen says. "That means wearing a shirt that has never been sullied by horse shit."
Geralt grunts in response and looks to see if the waitress is coming back with that drink yet. He could really use it, even if he couldn't drink very many of them because he'd driven.
"What were you here to talk to Mom about, Jaskier?"
Bless Ciri's little fangirl heart, for being willing to carry the conversation where Geralt wouldn't. She's over the moon right now, finally getting the chance to talk to one of her favorite music artists after weeks of being denied.
He thinks the whole deal is just a teen being a teen, but then Yennefer jumps in and approves of the idea. Jaskier worries his lower lip for a second, trying to get a good read of Geralt's reaction and how much Cirilla truly means it. Teasing your dad is one thing, having one of your favorite singers being all buddy with him and even become his personal stylist is another one - he doesn't want her to feel weird, uncomfortable. Then again, it's a little late for that, isn't it? They've fucking cuddled. She just doesn't know about it.
...or knows at least part of the story, apparently. She's unfazed by her dad being friends with him, if anything, she seems to be eager to take advantage of it. Well then, Jaskier thinks as he takes a sip of his drink for some liquid courage, here goes nothing.
"I actually wouldn't mind - I like playing stylist. And Yennefer is right, you need a better wardrobe! A shopping trip is in order, Geralt."
He slips into his gotta-push-Geralt-into-doing-things bossy side without meaning to, but it seems the ladies don't mind. In fact, judging by Ciri's grin and Yen's knowing look, they both approve. Big time. The waitress arrives then with Geralt's drink and menus for everyone, Jaskier waits until he's gone to answer Cirilla's question.
"As you probably already know from all my retweets, Pride is next weekend, and your mother and I will be helping out. Both of us are involved with many organizations, and we've confirmed I'll even get to perform!" He explains as he glances at the menu he takes from the pile. But soon blue eyes are quickly moving from face to face around the table, his whole body vibrating with excitement. "It would mean a lot to me if you'd come! Because it shows support for the cause AND my art, aaaaand it's also my--"
Cirilla gasps. "Right! It is your birthday!"
Jaskier has to laugh - it's flattering, honestly. "You'd be correct, little lady." She perks up at that, liking the nickname. "It's my birthday, so you'd be celebrating with me. It'll be lots of fun." He pauses as his eyes stay on Geralt this time. "My buddies will take me to a bar afterward, all friends of mine are invited."
It takes him a second to realize he's staring, so he clears his voice and nods at Yennefer to show she's included in that invitation as well. But it's pretty damn clear who is the person he wants to show up the most...
A shopping trip. Jaskier might as well have put a gun to his head, he'd handle that stress better. A shopping trip meant getting marched around from shop to shop and put into uncomfortable clothing that would be itchy and pinch in strange places and restrict his freedom of movement, and then having someone else pay absurd amounts of money for said uncomfortable clothing that he wouldn't even want to wear. If they were going to spend so much cash on something like shirts and pants, shouldn't they at least be comfortable? And he understands having clothes that he mucks out stalls in and clothes that he goes to nice places in and that these wardrobes should be kept separate, but do all of the nice clothes have to be so awful?
Thankfully, they all move on from the idea of putting Geralt into clothes, and into the reason that Jaskier's sitting at this table to begin with.
Aside from the fact that it'll soon be his birthday, apparently-- and Geralt is briefly concerned at the fact that Ciri knows Jaskier's birthday before he remembers that it's on his Twitter profile and he's a semi-famous musician-- and that Pride weekend coincides with it. It makes complete sense that Jaskier would want to be at Pride, considering that he's part of that community, and even more sense that he'd want to perform at it. The fact that Yen's involved with organizations that are a part of the celebrations makes sense, too, so there's no reason for the two of them not to collaborate.
All friends of mine are invited.
Ciri seems to take that as an invitation extended to her, because she perks up again.
"Oh, could we go, Dad? It'll be fun, and we can see Jaskier play! On his birthday!"
Geralt is thankful for the drink-- it buys him time while he takes a sip. "We'll see, Ciri."
As quickly as he usually concedes to his daughter's whims, Pride is, well, Pride. It's for the people of that community to celebrate, and he doesn't want to be another straight man bursting into a place that isn't for him. It would be breaking the schedule a bit, since he's supposed to have Ciri with him that day, but maybe he could arrange for Yen to take her. She's always been strict about keeping to the agreed-upon schedule, but in light of all this, she might bend a little.
"If you're waiting on my blessing, I see no reason for her not to go, assuming you don't have something else lined up. That's your weekend, if I recall."
He frowns. He really didn't want to get into the details of this right now, but apparently Yen's opening up the conversation. "We could make an adjustment."
"Is there some reason that you wouldn't be able to go? You know how I feel about last minute changes." The way she's looking at him is... more amused than anything, as though she knows what's going on in his head and thinks it's endearingly stupid.
"I'm a straight man, Yen," he says, since they're apparently being blunt today. "I don't want to overstep."
Yen snorts, right at the same time that Ciri says Daaaad! in a voice that's half whine, half secondhand embarrassment. "You do realize that they aren't going to check your sexuality at the door, don't you, Geralt? No one's going to mind if you're there to show support."
Like it happened with the idea of a shopping trip and hairstyling, Jaskier should be taking this chance to do a bit more of pushing-Geralt-into-doing-fun things. Cirilla is involved in this, however, and Jaskier knows that's where the line is drawn. He shouldn't meddle - at least, not in front of her. Usually he doesn't give a fuck, he will call out parents for being assholes in public spaces... but he promised Geralt, and he doesn't want to fuck up.
Maybe he could text him later, try to convince him privately? But it seems Yen is doing the job right now, and perhaps Jaskier could--
I'm a straight man, Yen.
Somewhere in England, Elizabeth Petra Pankratz is laughing her ass off.
Jaskier removes the straw from his glass and downs his drink in one go. Fuck, fuck, fuck. How could he be so stupid? Isn't he always talking about destroying gender roles? Well, here is Geralt, being so comfortable with his sexuality that he doesn't mind platonic cuddling another dude. Or perhaps it's just all the being a hermit deal that makes him awkward at socializing and desperate for a gentle touch...
It doesn't matter. He's always known this could happen. His sister is right, he's an idiot for having allowed this interest to develop into a genuine crush. Now he has something clutching at his heart that alcohol won't be able to kill today. And the worst part is, he finds himself finding his old idea of still want to be friends continuing to be true. He doesn't want to lose Geralt's company for some damn reason, no matter how it's going to pain him for a while.
"Yen is right, Geralt," he chimes in after clearing his voice. He can do this! He's gotta treat the situation as if Geralt was any other friend. This is fine (it isn't). "We don't check. And even if we did, we'd let you in-" He gestures the quotation marks. "-anyway. We want support. Support is important. A father teaching his daughter about equality from a young age? That's a powerful message. As long as you don't speak over us, you're welcome to come. We have ally merch for you to wear, rainbow not required!" He tries to sound teasing, but he isn't sure he achieves it. He's tense, and he knows it.
"See, dad, they need us!" Cirilla adds next, having learned from her mother some techniques in order to convince her dad to do things. "And Jaskier is your FRIEND! Goods friends go to each other's birthday parties!"
"Geralt's is November 1st, by the way, since I'm sure he hasn't provided that information freely," Yennefer comments with a smirk. Her plan works, Jaskier gasps and hurries to add the date on his phone calendar so he doesn't forget. It's obvious that Jaskier will do something for Geralt when the time comes - if that doesn't add on the ranch DILF guilt, nothing will.
Geralt has no idea what kind of crisis he just inspired in Jaskier with five short words.
Between his daughter's pleas and both Yen and Jaskier's assurances, though, there's no good argument for him not to attend the parade. Which is fine, he doesn't have a problem with going, so long as he's not going to be overstepping any boundaries, that it's open for anyone to attend regardless of whether they belong to the group or not.
Something about Jaskier still seems... off, though. Forced, maybe. There's tension in his shoulders where there wasn't any a few minutes ago, and he keeps doing this odd little fidget with his fingers, rubbing the tips of them against his thumb. He had been just as vocal as Yen in his insistence that it would be fine if Geralt was there, but... maybe he wasn't as all right with it as he said. It's a large event, at least, so they could avoid each other if Jaskier really didn't want to see him there, right?
"No reason not to go, then," he says, and Ciri beams at him in response.
Yen meddles a little more, as she's wont to do, and tells Jaskier when his birthday is, but otherwise brunch passes relatively easily. After food and drinks, he and Yen and Ciri hash out her schedule for the next few months, making sure that there's time for her both at the ranch and going on Yen's trips with her. She has overseas clients that she sometimes has to go and meet in-person, and it's easy to take a few more days to spend with her daughter and sightsee.
The time leading up to Pride is, undoubtedly, far more hectic for Jaskier than it is for Geralt. Aside from Ciri claiming that they needed to have face paint, all Geralt really needed to do was figure out where the fuck he was going to park when they got into the city that day. And while that is a logistical concern, since a number of roads were going to be shut down for the parade, it's a relatively small one.
The day of, Ciri asks him to paint a flag on her cheek-- pink, purple and blue. He sits down with her at the table with the face paints and puts careful stripes on her face, as big as she wants it, trying to keep them as neat and even as he could. When it was done to her satisfaction, he put the lids back on the paints and cleaned up a little smear of blue on her chin with a tissue.
"Something you want to talk about?" he asks, and she shakes her head and says maybe tonight. He presses a kiss to her forehead and tries not to think about how quickly she's growing up.
When they get to the parade, after at least twenty minutes of Geralt trying in vain to find a decent parking spot and having to settle for a several-block walk, it's packed-- throngs of people in the streets, dressed riotously in rainbow colors and waving all manner of flags around. Geralt can identify most of them by now, after he'd done a little research so that he wouldn't make a complete ass of himself at this thing.
He carries Ciri's bag for her while they move through the crowd, his hand in hers so that they don't get separated. There's time until Jaskier's show, and Ciri already read through the events planned for the day and marked off the things that she wants to go to, some speakers and some other DJ that she wants to catch and such. Everywhere she goes, people are friendly and celebrating like it's Mardi Gras, and she collects an impressive collection of pins and stickers that are being handed out. She tucks the stickers into the bag to put on notebooks later, and latches the pins onto the straps of the horse backpack that Geralt has slung over his shoulder, until there's no more room for them.
When it gets close to the start time for the show, the two of them make their way over to the venue where he's playing, with enough time to squeeze in before the place hits its occupancy limit.
Hectic doesn't even start to describe Jaskier's week. There's so much to do! Rehearsal, organizing and planning, promotion, choosing the right songs, the right clothes, the decorations for the stage, keeping up with social media, uploading a new video, blocking bigots, communication with organizations and sponsors... It's crazy, and Jaskier almost drives himself mad with all the work. Luckily for him, he gets help in the form of a surprise visit in the middle of the week.
And that surprise visit is now approaching father and daughter to stand next to them in the venue, a grin on her face that Geralt may find familiar.
"But if it isn't the famous Geralt Rivia," an English accent comments. "I've been wondering if I'd get to meet you today. Jas is going to be ecstatic."
Elizabeth Petra Pankratz shows up a lot in Jaskier's social media, so most fans easily recognize her from there - or in Geralt's case, from Jaskier's phone wallpaper. She's a couple of inches shorter than her brother, and while most of her facial features don't make her look very alike to him, two things definitely are the same: the smile, and the bright blue Pankratz eyes. Another thing they have in common is a good sense of style: for Pride, she's wearing a rainbow skirt with a white blouse plus comfortable sandals to walk in. Her long blond hair is up in braids, a purse hangs on her shoulder, and in her hands she's carrying a sign. On one side of it, there's a rainbow heart that says "free sister hugs". On the other side, some simple words in black: As Jesus said about gay people: " ". Yes, the blank is on purpose.
One perfectly manicured hand lets go of said sign, though, to be extended towards Geralt for shaking.
"My name is Elizabeth. I'm--"
"You're Jaskier's sister!" Ciri cuts in, excited to show more of her famous singer knowledge.
"Correct!" Lizzie replies with a laugh. "And you must be Cirilla. I've heard a lot about you two." The glint in those blue eyes Geralt perhaps also may recognize: it's the one that says this Pankratz is being nice and friendly for now as a way to lure you in under a sense of security, but soon she'll strike. "Having fun so far? Jas said this is your first Pride."
Geralt recognizes the woman who approaches them before she even introduces herself; he'd seen her face in Jaskier's Instagram pictures and on his phone background. His sister. In person, the Pankratz resemblance is even more pronounced. They have the same wide blue eyes, delicate pink lips. She is, as everyone else, dressed fantastically in Pride colors, and holds out a hand for Geralt to shake. He takes it briefly-- best not to be rude to Jaskier's sister, or else he'd hear no end of it. The last thing that he wants is to get thirty texts in a row about how he's the rudest, most boorish brute to ever exist because he didn't shake Jaskier's sister's hand.
As can only be expected, Jaskier's chatted with his sister quite a lot about his horse ranch acquaintance and said horse rancher's daughter. This could be either good or bad, considering the musician's gossipy tendencies, and Geralt isn't sure which yet. She's like Yen in that regard, waiting for the perfect moment to drop whatever information she has. Geralt will simply have to wait and see what she plans on doing, and then mitigate the damage when it comes.
"Been fine," Geralt says, and thankfully he doesn't have to carry the conversation far past that, because Ciri is more than happy to take over for him. She excitedly tells Elizabeth about the things they've gone to see today, and about how much she's looking forward to Jaskier's show, and probably goes off on a bit of a tangent about the musician's discography. Probably a longer one than Elizabeth needs to hear, considering that she's his sister and knows all of this stuff already. But Geralt lets her talk, because it's good to see her excited about something and he doesn't see the harm in letting Ciri tug the backpack off of his shoulder so that she can show Elizabeth all of the buttons and stickers that she'd gotten.
And there's also that part about not having to carry the conversation. The less that Geralt's forced to talk, the better for everyone.
Things continue in this vein for a bit, until the lights dim, signaling that the show is about to start. Geralt taps Ciri's elbow to get her attention, and she stops in the middle of whatever she was talking about.
"Jaskier's about to go on."
Which is a good distraction from talking Elizabeth's ear off. You're welcome, lady.
While Elizabeth has definitely been annoyed in the past by people approaching her only out of interest, it isn't the case with Cirilla. She's a genuine fan and sure, many of the things she's saying Lizzie has already heard a thousand times, but it's fine - because it's not the words themselves that matter, it's the adoration she puts in them. It makes her so happy to see her brother's passion reach hearts and build a legacy, she couldn't be any prouder.
So Lizzie chats along, occasionally throwing questions at Geralt as well and not getting much in return. How is her brother crushing on this bloke again? He's obviously not a bad guy, don't get her wrong, but they seem to be polar opposites. The kind of man Jaskier would want for a fuck or two, not for... whatever is going through his mind right now. It worries her, she must admit.
Their chat is interrupted when Jaskier finally appears on the stage, and his looks today sure kill Lambert's Braveheart joke. The celtic cape and the tight pants are still there, but his make-up, instead of being traditional, comes in the way of a rainbow to go with the date. The pride motif doesn't stop there, though, under his cape he's wearing very specific colors as well. His guitar though... he leaves it against a speaker, surprising everyone except Lizzie, who already knows what's going on. Jaskier takes the mic off the stand and as recorded music starts playing behind him (another anomaly) he starts a rendition of Don't rain on my parade.
"He's aware it's mostly young people that know him," Lizzie explains to Geralt and Ciri. "And today it's about inclusion. So he'll do a mix of his own songs and classic 'gay anthems' so everyone feels welcome."
Don't rain on my parade fades away into Love Run, and when his song is done, then he finally talks to the public with the most excited of grins on his face.
"I've been going to Pride since I started college." A nicer, sneaky way to say since I left my family. And the tone of his voice carries that weight in it: it's not a performer saying hi, it's a queer person sharing his experience. "But this is the first year I'm attending Pride -AND spending my birthday too!- away from my hometown. Ah!" He puts a finger up. "That doesn't equal spending it away from family, however! Because I'd like to think of us as a big family that takes care of each other. We've got each other's backs, isn't that right?" Everyone goes aww, and suddenly Jaskier smirks. "Also because my sister is here. Say hi, sis!"
While everyone laughs at Jaskier's trick, Lizzie puts up her arm and waves, making it easy for her brother to find her in the crowd... next to his crush and the daughter. Jaskier's eyes widen for a moment before his face softens with genuine delight, and he thanks all the gods he doesn't believe in that people will think he's reacting to Elizabeth.
"Make sure not to corrupt her with your bacon ways, alright?" More laughter from the public. "I'm Jaskier, I'm proudly bisexual, I'm here to tell all of you that you matter... and this is Defying Gravity."
Folk music rarely allows him to show how high his voice can go, so Jaskier has fun with this one. Just like Elizabeth explained before, he alternates his own songs with covers, trying to attract a public as varied as possible. When the show ends and he's about to say his goodbyes, the crowd starts singing happy birthday for him, making him feel more emotional than he already is. Lizzie sings along, obviously, while she searches for something in her purse: a black marker that she hands to Ciri.
"The fans have prepared a surprise for him," she explains when the singing is done and points behind them where a bunch of fans are crouching next to a huge pride flag that has a buttercup painted on the center. "Why don't you write something for him too?"
Cirilla jumps at the opportunity and once she's out of sight, Lizzie turns to Geralt, determined to get a word or two nailed to this man's brain. It won't be long before Jaskier is done taking pictures with all his fans, so she's gotta be fast.
"This probably isn't news for you, but my brother is a very social person. He needs people, and he likes being needed in return. That's why he gets attached to friends and acquaintances rather quickly." She sounds fond but also a bit exasperated by Jaskier's antics. "He likes it here, I can tell. He likes the city, he likes his new apartment, he likes Priscilla and Essi... and he likes you, for whatever reason. No offense." She shrugs with one shoulder - she doesn't think it would be fair to sugarcoat it. Geralt seems to be a smart man, he must know how different he and Jaskier are. "He's put his trust in you, regardless if you asked for it or not. I know Jas can be a bit of a nuisance sometimes, but he's also loyal to a fault. I won't ask you to take care of him - he can take care of himself. But I will ask you not to play games with him, alright?"
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Then he gets upset about the fact that Geralt's drinking the tea that he put in Geralt's own hand, and that only solidifies his decision to keep on drinking it. You gave it to him, Jaskier, so it's his now. While Jaskier tosses snacks at him and tells him about the dangers of mixing caffeine and weed, Geralt lifts the mug to his mouth, tips it back, and drains a good three-quarters of it in one go.
"It's chamomile, Jaskier," he says. "It doesn't have caffeine in it. That's the point."
But since there are snacks literally thrown into his lap, he'd open them up and try them. He was kind of hungry, anyway? He knows that it's the weed; back when he was a teenager, he could absolutely pack away entire pizzas when he had a case of the munchies. A few bags of chips is basically nothing in the face of two brownies' worth of pot. And there's something very satisfying about eating salty, crunchy, unhealthy food at stupid o'clock at night. Probably part of the reason why bar food is so popular, after a few beers and too many hours spent out, you just really need a plate full of something greasy.
That, combined with the almost meditative pull of the comb and brush through his hair, makes it easy to fall into companionable silence. Jaskier's much gentler about getting the knots out of his hair than he is, too-- he would just yank the comb through if he needed to de-tangle his hair and it was being stubborn. The musician holds locks of his hair and brushes from the bottom up so that it wouldn't tug on his scalp. Takes longer that way, but leaves him with fewer clumps of white hair on the floor. Again, it's really not necessary, Geralt is capable of dealing with a little discomfort, but it's considerate of him.
"Hm." More questions. Geralt's not entirely sure why Jaskier cares, but apparently he does. Or he just can't stand silence, that's also possible. "Brown. And yes, my dad was terrible at haircuts."
He learned from a very young age that it was better to just let his hair grow out than to trust Vesemir and his questionable scissor skills. And since they didn't have the money to take three rambunctious boys to a salon to get their hair cut every few weeks, it was either Vesemir or nothing. Eskel and Lambert got the scissor treatment until they were old enough to do it themselves. Which didn't necessarily mean that they made good hair decisions, but at least it wasn't their father's hair decisions.
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"I'll forgive you because you know how to identify chamomile."
Which sounds kinda silly, but Jaskier has lost count of all the times he's offered his box of teas and got told whatever, it's all tea anyway. So points to Geralt for that, which makes up for the ones he lost over having just regular bar soap in his bathroom.
While Geralt munches on chips, Jaskier finishes his own cookies, which taste like berries and nostalgia. To this day, Jaskier still wonders how his grandmother ended up married to that stupid family of his - love works in mysterious and fucked up ways, he supposes. Those memories hit extra hard when Geralt mentions his dad being in charge of his haircuts, which makes Jaskier laugh. Oh, what a difference in parents - his own father would never do service for his children like this. The man isn't even capable of taking care of his own stupid beard!
"Your dad cut your hair? That sounds both adorable and terrifying." It also a bit more information about Geralt's childhood, and Jaskier shall treasure it. "While I'm sure you were just as dashing and handsome with brown hair, I admit I like the gray better. You pull it off well. Is it really gray though?" He raises a lock of hair and brings it closer to his face for a better look. "I'd say it's even white under the right li--"
Wait. Is that-? Jaskier sniffs once. Twice. Then asks the gods he doesn't believe in how he ended up crushing on such a himbo.
"Geralt, my dear friend - did you wash your hair with the bloody body wash?"
He should lose points for this, but the asshole manages to be endearing with his... his... himboness.
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"Foster dad," he says. Vesemir isn't his father, not that Geralt would know who the fuck that is, anyway. Hell, he barely even remembers what his own mother looked like. Who knows if she's even alive, or if she remembers him.
Geralt only hums about any preferences Jaskier has for his hair color-- it doesn't really matter, it's not like the brown would ever be coming back, even if Jaskier did like it better. He lets him mess around with the pale locks, examining them closely and quibbling about the exact color. Gray, white, it's basically the same thing when it comes to hair, right? Something that you're only supposed to see on men who are Vesemir's age. It really doesn't matter, though, it's not unattractive enough to stop Geralt from getting the occasional one night stand.
"Soap is soap," he replies, absolutely certain that this response will drive Jaskier up a wall for a number of reasons. One, he's clearly the kind of person that has a hundred different kinds of soap even though just one would do the job, and two, he'd hate how short that statement is. No elaboration, no explanation, no room for arguments. Soap is soap.
He turns his head a little, looking back over his shoulder at the deeply offended musician.
"Are you done yet?"
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That comes out more bitter than he intends it to, but he can't help it considering the environment he grew up with. It wasn't only his own dad that sucked, he had plenty of classmates that also were distracted with expensive gifts while their so-called fathers arrived home late because they were fucking their secretaries. Daddy issues were as common in his school as having the latest iPhone model.
He hopes he gets to meet Geralt's father some day, he must have some amazing stories about fostering these three little rascals.
Geralt's plan is successful, because he's read Jaskier absolutely right: that answer has him gasping and flailing his hands. This is a scandal! This himbo wants to give him a heart attack!
"Soap is NOT soap, how dare you! You, you-!" He has a good insult, he swears he does, but Geralt turns around then and- ugh. Damn his handsome smug face. Jaskier huffs. "No, I'm not done! I just finished the first step! Now turn around and let me do my job!"
Now all knots are gone, it is the turn of the cream tube next. With a little lump of white in each hand, Jaskier buries his fingers in Geralt's hair and massages it kindly - and that includes the scalp as well. He would be lying to himself if he said wasn't enjoying it - it's peaceful. Almost intimate. There is a reason why Jaskier loves making a ritual out of grooming, and he allows himself to smile at the back of Geralt's head for having achieved this little moment with him.
"You can be quite a mystery, you know," he finally confesses with a softer tone. "For every little thing that tells me you are a simple man with simple needs, you surprise me with two other things that leave me thinking for hours. Like a puzzle I'm dying to solve but at the same time I never want it to end."
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Well. Geralt wouldn't ever ask for something like that, even while high. His threshold for asking for touch is significantly lower when he's like this, but it's not completely gone.
Jaskier talks about puzzles for a bit, and Geralt thinks that if he's a puzzle, it's an exceedingly simple one. Not terribly hard to figure out and not much of a payoff once you do. Hardly worth finishing, honestly.
"I don't need much," he says. And it's true-- he has few things that he requires, and almost all of those he can provide for himself. He rarely needs someone else, and when he does, it's not for very long. Help from his brothers for a project or a warm touch from a one-night stand.
"Maybe you're seeing complexity where there isn't any."
After all, what's complex about Geralt? He has few needs and fewer wants. His life revolves around his daughter and his horses. The number of friends that he has who aren't family can probably be counted on one hand with fingers left over. His life is simple and that works for him. He doesn't need to push his luck.
Really, Jaskier's the one who's bafflingly complex around here. He obviously loves the city and being surrounded by people, but he insists on being... friend-adjacent with a man who prefers the countryside and keeps the company of horses. He wears pretty, fancy clothes that are probably expensive and has soft hands and soft hair and a million different bottles of hair and skincare things, but he doesn't mind mucking out a stall or washing the mud off Pegasus after he's had a roll in the pasture. He's cheerful in the face of Geralt's dour moods. They should have repelled each other like magnets, but instead... well, they've attracted like magnets. But the other way around. How does that work, anyway? Wait, no, he's too high to get lost in wondering how magnets work.
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His answer comes out too quickly, too easily. It's because he's said similar things before, he realizes: when talking to his sister. Elizabeth can't understand what Jaskier sees in Geralt for this to be a full crush instead of just lust, and she keeps questioning him about it, which gets on his nerves. It's not like she's mean towards Geralt at least, he does give her that much, she accepts he's a good man and probably a good catch... for someone else. Not for his brother aka Mr Fun and Freedom.
Jaskier sighs as his hands slowly stop moving, he cannot make this last any longer, no matter how much he's dying to keep on touching Geralt. He grabs the brush next and gets to work once again, going for long, kind strokes in the way he couldn't do with the comb, and finding himself singing All I wanna do by Sheryl Crow.
There's more about Geralt than it meets the eye, Jaskier is sure of it. It doesn't matter how much his sister or even Geralt himself deny it. The man pushes away yet no far enough for Jaskier not to be out of his life, he complains yet he doesn't act on it. He grunts and dismisses ideas like friendship, yet he invites Jaskier to pick berries and watch his show, even bringing his brothers with him.
What drives this man? And what hurt him? An awful question, but one Jaskier can't stop thinking about, because something must've happened to him to make him enjoy little things only through denial and possibly guilt.
And there's also the fact Jaskier simply doesn't have boring crushes. His heart knows better than that.
The question is, will the magnets still attract each other after the puzzle is solved?
That's what is probably worrying Lizzie, Jaskier realizes. That he'll eventually get bored when there's no mystery left. Honestly though... if it happens, so what? Can't he have a little happiness even if temporary? Nothing lasts forever... Not that there is anything here to last anyway. Or is there? Jaskier isn't sure anymore. Signals have been more mixed than a milkshake tonight.
The brushing comes to an end too, too short of a moment if you ask Jaskier. Just two more minutes, please! Using the excuse of not wanting Geralt to ruin all his hard work when they go to bed, he hurries to bury his fingers in white hair again, this time dividing it into three parts and quickly forming a neat braid that he secures with Geralt's hairtie.
"There you go, all done!" Jaskier pulls his hands away but stays right where he is, proudly admiring his work, smiling like an idiot at the smell of his own body wash coming off Geralt. "That wasn't so hard, was it? What do you think?"
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Jaskier hums an old song and Geralt sits quietly.
Even once he sets the brush down, Jaskier doesn't stop; his fingers delve back into the gray hair again, accidentally eliciting a soft noise from Geralt's throat, and start sectioning his hair. He's confused until he feels the soft tugs as each section is woven around the others, forming a long braid down his back. This is a practical thing, he thinks-- Ciri does it, too, before she goes to bed, so that her hair isn't a mess in the morning. It's considerate of Jaskier to do this for him.
When he's finished, Geralt reaches back to touch the braid, feeling along the smooth bumps of it.
"My hair will be less messy in the morning." He doesn't mention that he almost misses the feeling of gentle hands on his skin. It's stupid to want things that he can't have. "Thank you."
They stay there for a while yet, talking about things that don't matter-- or, rather, Jaskier does most of the talking, and Geralt listens. That's fine, it reminds him of when he was young and shared a room with Eskel, and he'd listen to his brother read from books with a flashlight until late into the night. Until they both fell asleep that way, crammed awkwardly onto the same bed, Eskel's cheek pressed against the pages.
He eventually falls asleep here, too-- first coaxed into laying down on the sofa-bed while Jaskier prattles, then slowly lulled by the cadence of his voice. Like a lullaby without a melody, or the white noise machine that was supposed to help with his insomnia. Apparently, all he needed was too much weed and a chatty musician.
His internal clock won't let him sleep in, though, despite forgetting to set an alarm. He's awake at five o'clock sharp, briefly disoriented by the unfamiliar surroundings and the lack of a crowing rooster. He's warm, wrapped up in blankets, long limbs wrapped securely around his middle. A leg is pushed firmly between his thighs, and that's a little bit of a problem because Geralt is a healthy middle-aged man with a very functional circulatory system that likes to prove its level of function every morning. That is to say, he's got some very healthy morning wood going on right now, and he's awake enough to remember that he spent the night at Jaskier's.
Jaskier, apparently, is a cuddler. Geralt doesn't really mind cuddly bed-partners, but he and Jaskier had fallen asleep quite platonically last night, laying side by side. The erection currently pressing against the musician's thigh is not very platonic. And even though that erection might very much like it if Geralt were to roll his hips and maybe wake Jaskier up, that's just a very good reason why Geralt's cock should never be allowed to make decisions. He needs to get up carefully and leave quietly, so that Jaskier never has to know about the awkward situation that he's sleeping through.
He looks peaceful when he sleeps, and he's tucked in close enough that Geralt can smell the sweet floral scent that his fancy soap left on his skin from his shower last night.
Geralt moves quietly and slowly to extricate himself from Jaskier's grip without waking him. He had hoped that, in the time it took to get out of the musician's lax arms, his morning wood would have sorted itself out, but no luck-- he has to collect his clothes from the dryer and awkwardly take care of himself in the bathroom. He stuffs his fist into his mouth to keep quiet, takes himself in hand and tries to think of nothing at all, just treat it like nothing more than a simple biological need that must be taken care of. He doesn't think about firm thighs or pink lips or a swathe of hairy chest peeking out of a partly unbuttoned shirt, the collar slipping over one pale shoulder. Geralt checks his phone once he's tidied up and changed, and he's running late-- fuck, he has to meet Eskel. He texts him that he's going to be late, already dreading the questions that he'll be asked, and grabs his things to leave, until he realizes that if he just walks out, Jaskier's door will be left unlocked.
Fuck.
He approaches the sofa-bed and puts a hand on Jaskier's shoulder, shaking him gently until he wakes, like how he'd wake Ciri when she's sleeping in too late.
"Jaskier. I'm leaving, you need to lock your door when I go."
He doesn't wait long for a response, but heads out after that, once he's sure that Jaskier is awake enough to understand what he's been told.
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Then Geralt turns around and thanks him, and Jaskier knows every thought of his is basically bullshit.
He doesn't know what to do anymore, Jaskier isn't one to dance about a potential conquest like this. Either he goes for it, or he doesn't - life is too short to hesitate. And yet... here he is, trying to navigate Geralt without a map, GPS or compass, not even the freaking stars to guide him. The man is uncharted territory in Jaskier's eyes, nothing like he's ever flirted with before. He should just ask, he's never been afraid of doing so, but he's never had the potential to lose a friendship as consequence either.
And he wouldn't know what he'd do if he lost this. It's so different from his usual friendships, but in a good way - great, even. There's a comfort in having him laying with him like this, chatting casually with soft music playing in the background. Geralt may not talk as much, but he listens, pays attention to him, and when he does say something, his words never go to waste. It's what Jaskier needs right now - not only because of what happened earlier in the bar, but because there's a huge con to living in complete independence: loneliness. Jaskier is a people person, social and touchy, he hates silence and being alone. His carefree schedule doesn't make him the right person to have a pet, considering the way he can disappear for days at a time without warning (there's a reason why he asked Geralt to help him with the bird feeders after all); and roommates usually want some level of commitment as well.
Jaskier can't have that. He values not having to answer to anyone, so living alone is still the best option for him at the end of the day. But he still craves company, a kind of company that cares about more than just sex and cuddling, and well--
Having Geralt fall asleep like his with him? So trusting and comfortable, not pushing him away when Jaskier comes closer in his sleep? It warms his heart in a way flings simply can't.
After being nervous over his show, the gig himself, the emotionally shaken moment with the talent-scout and staying up with Geralt chatting, Jaskier is exhausted, so he's sleeping quite deeply when Geralt awakes (besides, 5am isn't a time his brain would register as apt to wake up anyway). So when Geralt finally manages to bring him back from dreamland, Jaskier can only reply with a very articulated question.
"--what?"
Blinking at the figure in front of him, Jaskier sits up and lets consciousness slowly return to him, memories of last night filling his mind one by one: riding the bike with his body pressed to Geralt's, falling on the touch under Geralt's might weight, brushing braiding Geralt's hair, falling asleep together and-
...cuddling him...
Fuck. And now Geralt is leaving. By the time Jaskier is fully aware of what's going on and cries out "WAIT!", Geralt is gone. Fuck, fuck, fuck, has it been too much? Has he finally pushed him away? Jaskier looks around the apartment, as if trying to convince his brain that Geralt's presence in it has been a real thing. He finds the rugby shirt on top of the washer and nope, to Jaskier's disappointment, it doesn't smell like Geralt - it smells like his own body wash. There's a mess to be dealt with here, but he's too sleepy to deal with it, so Jaskier climbs under the covers of his couch and sleeps a few more hours, cuddling the t-shirt like a lovesick idiot.
When he wakes up hours later, his phone is exploding with notifications. Boy, today is going to be a day, isn't it? Jaskier sighs and decides it's going to be a pajamas-and-wine-all-day kind of day. He orders food through an app because there's no way he'll cook in his current mood, uncorks a bottle of wine without caring what time is it (he'll need it) and drinks straight from the bottle as he gets comfortable in his couch, ready to deal with all his messes while his This Is Fine (TM) playlist echoes in the apartment.
His run-away-from-your-problems instincts tell him he should leave Geralt for last, but he realizes then he would die waiting for an answer. So a text for his friend(? hopefully?) goes out first, a completely neutrally written message to check on him and test the waters, that way he can distract himself with the other stuff while waiting. Messages are next - he sends a quick thank you to his gang's group chat for coming and for sending him all the pictures and videos they took. They're also asking him for details of last night, and Jaskier decides that for now, it's safer to tell them he just had some drinks and a movie with Geralt until he understands better what is going on.
If he ever does...
And then there's the talk with his sister, who is assuming Jaskier celebrated his big night with a fling, since that's the usual reason why he wouldn't be screaming at her and sending pictures after a successful show. Lizzie does get the whole story, and she's less than amused by it, seeing it all as proof for Jaskier needing to move on because clearly Geralt and her brother aren't compatible. Jaskier pouts and disagrees, and takes revenge by making her uncomfortable by talking about Geralt's giant dick. It's the little things! (Or not so little, in this case.)
By the time food comes, Jaskier has moved onto social media. After posting all the pictures and videos he's gotten his hands on, replying to any post he's been tagged and thanking them as well, Jaskier decides to post the picture of the torn card with a short caption (And a thank you to @ folkwaysrecords for coming and making an offer that included changing who I am! A pity I don't work with homophobic bigots, I guess.) without consulting Yennefer first. To hell with it, frustration is running through his veins at the mere memory, fueled by Geralt leaving like that and his sister's scolding. He WANTS to pick up a fight with someone right now, let out some steam, write some creative insults. Outside some trolls he quickly blocks, though, an argument doesn't come. The tweet gets shared all over, people show their support (including Yen in his DMs, telling him to let her know if someone needs to be destroyed) and the record company ignores the constant mentions of his followers.
He wonders if they're getting a flood of hate. Usually he doesn't approve of crossing the bullying line, but right now, he doesn't give a fuck.
It's the right thing to do. His sister and his friends both congratulate him for being brave, and between that and all the fans speaking up, telling him how important it is for them for Jaskier to make things like this public? Yeah, he's feeling good by the time afternoon comes around. The last thing that ends up helping to improve his mood is Geralt's reply, telling him he just needed to leave because he has a farm to take care of.
Right. Five am. That makes... a lot of sense, actually. It also proves Lizzie right about Jaskier behaving like an idiot about this whole deal, but he doesn't tell her that.
It's back to constantly texting him and visiting the ranch every now and then after that, and Jaskier tries his best to test the waters without pushing Geralt into drowning. He flirts, he drops hints, he asks questions that hide a second meaning behind them. Geralt doesn't react to any of that, behaving like his stoic self as usual, and yet... they have moments when they are alone together in the ranch, there's no other way to describe them. Jaskier is starting to think he needs to write a song for him, something direct, like. You know. Hey, so you're hot as fuck and lots of fun, wanna go out and bang after, but hey if you don't that's cool too, is there a possibility we can stay friends after this? But with more rhyming.
There isn't much time to bother Geralt when June begins, though. Pride is coming and Jaskier has plans to help, even perform if possible. Lots of organization to do, especially if you add the fact this year Pride is the same day as his birthday... But as it turns out, he isn't the only one busy for this event! Yennefer is involved in a bunch of organizations too, and she wants to both genuinely help and get some politics going. So Jaskier agrees to finally meet in person and have brunch together.
Her tastes are as refined as his own, so taking into consideration the summer weather, they choose a modern rooftop restaurant with comfortable couches and wide umbrellas that protect them from the sun. Yennefer wears black dresses no matter the occasion, Jaskier has learned, so he thinks they make the perfect contrast when he shows up with his usual colors - this time a combination of white and red with a touch of purple. He isn't sure who has more rings on, however. It may be a tie.
They don't order quite yet, enjoying their chat while having a drink first - red wine for Yen, piña colada for Jaskier (umbrella with a cherry and a piece of pineapple included, of course). And he can't help choking on said cocktail when he suddenly sees who is approaching the table.
No fucking way.
He gives Yennefer a questioning look as he pats his chest, but she only smiles behind her glass of wine, looking like fucking Cersei Lannister, scheming and proud of herself. He turns to the new arrivals again when he hears Ciri exclaim "finally!" and sees her approach the table a little quicker, probably in reaction to finally getting to meet Jaskier in person. And Jaskier, well...
He can only panic.
His attempt to standup quickly fails since these couches don't allow for a fast, clumsy movement like throwing a chair back would. Jaskier curses under his breath when he hits his knee against the table, and quickly puts his open hands up in a gesture of innocence when Geralt makes their side looking extremely handsome as always.
"I SWEAR I didn't know you were coming, this is all her fault!" He points at Yen (who just shrugs as she grins) before turning to Ciri. "Cirilla, it's wonderful to finally meet you, believe me, but... I made a promise to your dad. Sorry."
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"You look like hell," Eskel says as he approaches. Geralt grunts in response; being as nonverbal as possible is his best defense here. "And what happened to your hair? You didn't do that, you can't braid for shit."
"Jaskier." It's a short reply as he starts to make his way down to the pasture fences that need to be repaired.
"Jaskier did it? So you stayed over at his place last night?" Eskel grabs his thermos and his tools, catching up to Geralt in a few long strides. "You sure you know what you're doing? I mean, you usually don't shit where you eat, and he's a customer. Got you a lot of your business."
Geralt's mouth twists. "It's not like that."
"Then why did you stay over at his place? It's not like you drank that much at the bar."
"I..." Damn, there's no good explanation for this other than the truth. "He invited me in for coffee and something to eat. He didn't tell me the brownies were special."
"Seriously?" Eskel barks out a short laugh. "You accidentally got fucking high at this guy's house? Holy shit, Geralt."
Geralt shoves him into one of fence posts and tells him to fuck off. Eskel laughs anyway.
Everything goes back to normal after that. Jaskier seems to take the whole odd episode in stride, still texting him and coming by the ranch like he always does. It's good, and Geralt didn't want to have to apologize about it because it had kind of been a decent night. And, sure, it was just because of the weed, but he hadn't laughed that hard in a long time, and it had been an equally long time since he'd just... laid around with someone and talked.
The first week of June rolls around, though, and that means that it's time for the monthly meeting with Yennefer about Ciri's schedule. As usual, she picks the restaurant in town, the reservation set too late for breakfast and too early for lunch. She does have a certain affinity towards brunch. Geralt sees nothing unusual in the appointment, and dutifully brings Ciri, and they arrive a little early-- traffic was lighter than what he had been anticipating. When he walks in, a quick word with the hostess has him heading up to the rooftop terrace with his daughter, where Yen is, apparently, already waiting.
Yen and, unexpectedly, Jaskier.
Ciri is delighted when she sees who's sitting at the table with her mother, getting to the table quickly enough to snag the nearest seat to the musician.
"Dad wouldn't make you leave, you were here first! And we're early, anyway," Ciri says, looking up at Geralt with the kind of doe eyes that he just knows that Yen taught her. "Right, Dad?"
He looks over at Yen, and the color of her lipstick is almost the same as her wine. She's smiling, which is never a good sign.
"Really, don't be rude, Geralt. Sit down, there's enough room at the table for all of us."
Geralt sighs. Both Yen and Ciri are against him.
"Sit down, Jaskier."
Geralt takes the last remaining spot, already wishing that he had something alcoholic in his hand. If Jaskier and Yen are going to day-drink through this thing, he's at least going to have one to ease this social nightmare along.
"I wasn't aware that the plans had changed, Yen," he says. Yen gives him a withering look over the rim of her glass and takes an elegant sip of her wine.
"You're the one who's early. Jaskier and I just had a little business to discuss, so why should I have to go back and forth to meet with the two of you? I'll get it all done here."
"Hm," he says as the waitress comes back, checking to see if the newcomers to the table want something to drink. Ciri orders some coffee drink that she likes, and Geralt opens his mouth to order a beer when Yen beats him to it.
"A mimosa for him."
Geralt shoots her a look as the waitress takes the orders and assures them that the drinks will be out shortly.
"What? You like mimosas but you never order them."
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Geralt asks him to stay (well, in his own way) and all tension instantly leaves his body - this is fine. They are fine. Jaskier sits down with a huge grin on his face and quickly turns to Cirilla to offer a better greeting and thank her for all her support. While part of him would've loved to sit next to Geralt (let their arms and legs brush, put his hand on his arm when laughing at something, and--), there's nothing like meeting the fans - and this isn't any fan, it's also Geralt's precious daughter, and Jaskier's been dying to meet her just for that. Besides, this way he gets a better look at Yen and Geralt interacting together.
Speaking of... Yen orders for him, and Jaskier's eyebrows could almost touch his hairline. It's a very old married couple thing to do, even if they're exes now, so that's definitely interesting. He should've been getting more dirt from Yen, he realizes. But what surprises him the most is--
"Mimosas?" he asks with a chuckle. "I wouldn't have pegged you for a mimosas kind of bloke, not after all your simple orders of beer and black coffee."
He must've said something funny, because Cirilla giggles and Yennefer snorts. "That's because the black coffee was a lie," Yen clarifies. "He hides his sweet tooth to keep his brooding image."
Jaskier gasps, although it's quite exaggerated - it includes taking a hand to his chest. "And to think I had to make you try my cookies! I'm hurt, Geralt! HURT! Betrayed and affronted!"
"Is this about the day you braided his hair?" Ciri asks, curiosity written all over her face. Jaskier nods, wondering how she knows about that - he seriously doubts Geralt would've shared it... would he? "You did such a great job! Would you do it before his meetings with my teachers too?"
Alright, alright, questioning how they know about the braid is forgotten for now because Jaskier needs to simply laugh his ass off as that request, excuse him for a second.
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Jaskier has a moment of histrionics about the supposed betrayal of having to be coerced into trying his cookies-- which, really, he didn't, he ate them just fine. Especially after that weed had kicked in and he'd gotten hungry.
"Jaskier has better things to do than mess with my hair," Geralt says. The musician isn't a hairdresser, anyway, it's not his job to go around and make sure that Geralt looks presentable. He has music to write and... other things to do, presumably.
At least Jaskier finds it amusing.
"It wouldn't be a bad thing, Geralt, if you showed up to one of these meetings at least looking a bit presentable," Yen says. "That means wearing a shirt that has never been sullied by horse shit."
Geralt grunts in response and looks to see if the waitress is coming back with that drink yet. He could really use it, even if he couldn't drink very many of them because he'd driven.
"What were you here to talk to Mom about, Jaskier?"
Bless Ciri's little fangirl heart, for being willing to carry the conversation where Geralt wouldn't. She's over the moon right now, finally getting the chance to talk to one of her favorite music artists after weeks of being denied.
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...or knows at least part of the story, apparently. She's unfazed by her dad being friends with him, if anything, she seems to be eager to take advantage of it. Well then, Jaskier thinks as he takes a sip of his drink for some liquid courage, here goes nothing.
"I actually wouldn't mind - I like playing stylist. And Yennefer is right, you need a better wardrobe! A shopping trip is in order, Geralt."
He slips into his gotta-push-Geralt-into-doing-things bossy side without meaning to, but it seems the ladies don't mind. In fact, judging by Ciri's grin and Yen's knowing look, they both approve. Big time. The waitress arrives then with Geralt's drink and menus for everyone, Jaskier waits until he's gone to answer Cirilla's question.
"As you probably already know from all my retweets, Pride is next weekend, and your mother and I will be helping out. Both of us are involved with many organizations, and we've confirmed I'll even get to perform!" He explains as he glances at the menu he takes from the pile. But soon blue eyes are quickly moving from face to face around the table, his whole body vibrating with excitement. "It would mean a lot to me if you'd come! Because it shows support for the cause AND my art, aaaaand it's also my--"
Cirilla gasps. "Right! It is your birthday!"
Jaskier has to laugh - it's flattering, honestly. "You'd be correct, little lady." She perks up at that, liking the nickname. "It's my birthday, so you'd be celebrating with me. It'll be lots of fun." He pauses as his eyes stay on Geralt this time. "My buddies will take me to a bar afterward, all friends of mine are invited."
It takes him a second to realize he's staring, so he clears his voice and nods at Yennefer to show she's included in that invitation as well. But it's pretty damn clear who is the person he wants to show up the most...
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Thankfully, they all move on from the idea of putting Geralt into clothes, and into the reason that Jaskier's sitting at this table to begin with.
Aside from the fact that it'll soon be his birthday, apparently-- and Geralt is briefly concerned at the fact that Ciri knows Jaskier's birthday before he remembers that it's on his Twitter profile and he's a semi-famous musician-- and that Pride weekend coincides with it. It makes complete sense that Jaskier would want to be at Pride, considering that he's part of that community, and even more sense that he'd want to perform at it. The fact that Yen's involved with organizations that are a part of the celebrations makes sense, too, so there's no reason for the two of them not to collaborate.
All friends of mine are invited.
Ciri seems to take that as an invitation extended to her, because she perks up again.
"Oh, could we go, Dad? It'll be fun, and we can see Jaskier play! On his birthday!"
Geralt is thankful for the drink-- it buys him time while he takes a sip. "We'll see, Ciri."
As quickly as he usually concedes to his daughter's whims, Pride is, well, Pride. It's for the people of that community to celebrate, and he doesn't want to be another straight man bursting into a place that isn't for him. It would be breaking the schedule a bit, since he's supposed to have Ciri with him that day, but maybe he could arrange for Yen to take her. She's always been strict about keeping to the agreed-upon schedule, but in light of all this, she might bend a little.
"If you're waiting on my blessing, I see no reason for her not to go, assuming you don't have something else lined up. That's your weekend, if I recall."
He frowns. He really didn't want to get into the details of this right now, but apparently Yen's opening up the conversation. "We could make an adjustment."
"Is there some reason that you wouldn't be able to go? You know how I feel about last minute changes." The way she's looking at him is... more amused than anything, as though she knows what's going on in his head and thinks it's endearingly stupid.
"I'm a straight man, Yen," he says, since they're apparently being blunt today. "I don't want to overstep."
Yen snorts, right at the same time that Ciri says Daaaad! in a voice that's half whine, half secondhand embarrassment. "You do realize that they aren't going to check your sexuality at the door, don't you, Geralt? No one's going to mind if you're there to show support."
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Maybe he could text him later, try to convince him privately? But it seems Yen is doing the job right now, and perhaps Jaskier could--
I'm a straight man, Yen.
Somewhere in England, Elizabeth Petra Pankratz is laughing her ass off.
Jaskier removes the straw from his glass and downs his drink in one go. Fuck, fuck, fuck. How could he be so stupid? Isn't he always talking about destroying gender roles? Well, here is Geralt, being so comfortable with his sexuality that he doesn't mind platonic cuddling another dude. Or perhaps it's just all the being a hermit deal that makes him awkward at socializing and desperate for a gentle touch...
It doesn't matter. He's always known this could happen. His sister is right, he's an idiot for having allowed this interest to develop into a genuine crush. Now he has something clutching at his heart that alcohol won't be able to kill today. And the worst part is, he finds himself finding his old idea of still want to be friends continuing to be true. He doesn't want to lose Geralt's company for some damn reason, no matter how it's going to pain him for a while.
"Yen is right, Geralt," he chimes in after clearing his voice. He can do this! He's gotta treat the situation as if Geralt was any other friend. This is fine (it isn't). "We don't check. And even if we did, we'd let you in-" He gestures the quotation marks. "-anyway. We want support. Support is important. A father teaching his daughter about equality from a young age? That's a powerful message. As long as you don't speak over us, you're welcome to come. We have ally merch for you to wear, rainbow not required!" He tries to sound teasing, but he isn't sure he achieves it. He's tense, and he knows it.
"See, dad, they need us!" Cirilla adds next, having learned from her mother some techniques in order to convince her dad to do things. "And Jaskier is your FRIEND! Goods friends go to each other's birthday parties!"
"Geralt's is November 1st, by the way, since I'm sure he hasn't provided that information freely," Yennefer comments with a smirk. Her plan works, Jaskier gasps and hurries to add the date on his phone calendar so he doesn't forget. It's obvious that Jaskier will do something for Geralt when the time comes - if that doesn't add on the ranch DILF guilt, nothing will.
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Between his daughter's pleas and both Yen and Jaskier's assurances, though, there's no good argument for him not to attend the parade. Which is fine, he doesn't have a problem with going, so long as he's not going to be overstepping any boundaries, that it's open for anyone to attend regardless of whether they belong to the group or not.
Something about Jaskier still seems... off, though. Forced, maybe. There's tension in his shoulders where there wasn't any a few minutes ago, and he keeps doing this odd little fidget with his fingers, rubbing the tips of them against his thumb. He had been just as vocal as Yen in his insistence that it would be fine if Geralt was there, but... maybe he wasn't as all right with it as he said. It's a large event, at least, so they could avoid each other if Jaskier really didn't want to see him there, right?
"No reason not to go, then," he says, and Ciri beams at him in response.
Yen meddles a little more, as she's wont to do, and tells Jaskier when his birthday is, but otherwise brunch passes relatively easily. After food and drinks, he and Yen and Ciri hash out her schedule for the next few months, making sure that there's time for her both at the ranch and going on Yen's trips with her. She has overseas clients that she sometimes has to go and meet in-person, and it's easy to take a few more days to spend with her daughter and sightsee.
The time leading up to Pride is, undoubtedly, far more hectic for Jaskier than it is for Geralt. Aside from Ciri claiming that they needed to have face paint, all Geralt really needed to do was figure out where the fuck he was going to park when they got into the city that day. And while that is a logistical concern, since a number of roads were going to be shut down for the parade, it's a relatively small one.
The day of, Ciri asks him to paint a flag on her cheek-- pink, purple and blue. He sits down with her at the table with the face paints and puts careful stripes on her face, as big as she wants it, trying to keep them as neat and even as he could. When it was done to her satisfaction, he put the lids back on the paints and cleaned up a little smear of blue on her chin with a tissue.
"Something you want to talk about?" he asks, and she shakes her head and says maybe tonight. He presses a kiss to her forehead and tries not to think about how quickly she's growing up.
When they get to the parade, after at least twenty minutes of Geralt trying in vain to find a decent parking spot and having to settle for a several-block walk, it's packed-- throngs of people in the streets, dressed riotously in rainbow colors and waving all manner of flags around. Geralt can identify most of them by now, after he'd done a little research so that he wouldn't make a complete ass of himself at this thing.
He carries Ciri's bag for her while they move through the crowd, his hand in hers so that they don't get separated. There's time until Jaskier's show, and Ciri already read through the events planned for the day and marked off the things that she wants to go to, some speakers and some other DJ that she wants to catch and such. Everywhere she goes, people are friendly and celebrating like it's Mardi Gras, and she collects an impressive collection of pins and stickers that are being handed out. She tucks the stickers into the bag to put on notebooks later, and latches the pins onto the straps of the horse backpack that Geralt has slung over his shoulder, until there's no more room for them.
When it gets close to the start time for the show, the two of them make their way over to the venue where he's playing, with enough time to squeeze in before the place hits its occupancy limit.
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And that surprise visit is now approaching father and daughter to stand next to them in the venue, a grin on her face that Geralt may find familiar.
"But if it isn't the famous Geralt Rivia," an English accent comments. "I've been wondering if I'd get to meet you today. Jas is going to be ecstatic."
Elizabeth Petra Pankratz shows up a lot in Jaskier's social media, so most fans easily recognize her from there - or in Geralt's case, from Jaskier's phone wallpaper. She's a couple of inches shorter than her brother, and while most of her facial features don't make her look very alike to him, two things definitely are the same: the smile, and the bright blue Pankratz eyes. Another thing they have in common is a good sense of style: for Pride, she's wearing a rainbow skirt with a white blouse plus comfortable sandals to walk in. Her long blond hair is up in braids, a purse hangs on her shoulder, and in her hands she's carrying a sign. On one side of it, there's a rainbow heart that says "free sister hugs". On the other side, some simple words in black: As Jesus said about gay people: " ". Yes, the blank is on purpose.
One perfectly manicured hand lets go of said sign, though, to be extended towards Geralt for shaking.
"My name is Elizabeth. I'm--"
"You're Jaskier's sister!" Ciri cuts in, excited to show more of her famous singer knowledge.
"Correct!" Lizzie replies with a laugh. "And you must be Cirilla. I've heard a lot about you two." The glint in those blue eyes Geralt perhaps also may recognize: it's the one that says this Pankratz is being nice and friendly for now as a way to lure you in under a sense of security, but soon she'll strike. "Having fun so far? Jas said this is your first Pride."
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As can only be expected, Jaskier's chatted with his sister quite a lot about his horse ranch acquaintance and said horse rancher's daughter. This could be either good or bad, considering the musician's gossipy tendencies, and Geralt isn't sure which yet. She's like Yen in that regard, waiting for the perfect moment to drop whatever information she has. Geralt will simply have to wait and see what she plans on doing, and then mitigate the damage when it comes.
"Been fine," Geralt says, and thankfully he doesn't have to carry the conversation far past that, because Ciri is more than happy to take over for him. She excitedly tells Elizabeth about the things they've gone to see today, and about how much she's looking forward to Jaskier's show, and probably goes off on a bit of a tangent about the musician's discography. Probably a longer one than Elizabeth needs to hear, considering that she's his sister and knows all of this stuff already. But Geralt lets her talk, because it's good to see her excited about something and he doesn't see the harm in letting Ciri tug the backpack off of his shoulder so that she can show Elizabeth all of the buttons and stickers that she'd gotten.
And there's also that part about not having to carry the conversation. The less that Geralt's forced to talk, the better for everyone.
Things continue in this vein for a bit, until the lights dim, signaling that the show is about to start. Geralt taps Ciri's elbow to get her attention, and she stops in the middle of whatever she was talking about.
"Jaskier's about to go on."
Which is a good distraction from talking Elizabeth's ear off. You're welcome, lady.
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So Lizzie chats along, occasionally throwing questions at Geralt as well and not getting much in return. How is her brother crushing on this bloke again? He's obviously not a bad guy, don't get her wrong, but they seem to be polar opposites. The kind of man Jaskier would want for a fuck or two, not for... whatever is going through his mind right now. It worries her, she must admit.
Their chat is interrupted when Jaskier finally appears on the stage, and his looks today sure kill Lambert's Braveheart joke. The celtic cape and the tight pants are still there, but his make-up, instead of being traditional, comes in the way of a rainbow to go with the date. The pride motif doesn't stop there, though, under his cape he's wearing very specific colors as well. His guitar though... he leaves it against a speaker, surprising everyone except Lizzie, who already knows what's going on. Jaskier takes the mic off the stand and as recorded music starts playing behind him (another anomaly) he starts a rendition of Don't rain on my parade.
"He's aware it's mostly young people that know him," Lizzie explains to Geralt and Ciri. "And today it's about inclusion. So he'll do a mix of his own songs and classic 'gay anthems' so everyone feels welcome."
Don't rain on my parade fades away into Love Run, and when his song is done, then he finally talks to the public with the most excited of grins on his face.
"I've been going to Pride since I started college." A nicer, sneaky way to say since I left my family. And the tone of his voice carries that weight in it: it's not a performer saying hi, it's a queer person sharing his experience. "But this is the first year I'm attending Pride -AND spending my birthday too!- away from my hometown. Ah!" He puts a finger up. "That doesn't equal spending it away from family, however! Because I'd like to think of us as a big family that takes care of each other. We've got each other's backs, isn't that right?" Everyone goes aww, and suddenly Jaskier smirks. "Also because my sister is here. Say hi, sis!"
While everyone laughs at Jaskier's trick, Lizzie puts up her arm and waves, making it easy for her brother to find her in the crowd... next to his crush and the daughter. Jaskier's eyes widen for a moment before his face softens with genuine delight, and he thanks all the gods he doesn't believe in that people will think he's reacting to Elizabeth.
"Make sure not to corrupt her with your bacon ways, alright?" More laughter from the public. "I'm Jaskier, I'm proudly bisexual, I'm here to tell all of you that you matter... and this is Defying Gravity."
Folk music rarely allows him to show how high his voice can go, so Jaskier has fun with this one. Just like Elizabeth explained before, he alternates his own songs with covers, trying to attract a public as varied as possible. When the show ends and he's about to say his goodbyes, the crowd starts singing happy birthday for him, making him feel more emotional than he already is. Lizzie sings along, obviously, while she searches for something in her purse: a black marker that she hands to Ciri.
"The fans have prepared a surprise for him," she explains when the singing is done and points behind them where a bunch of fans are crouching next to a huge pride flag that has a buttercup painted on the center. "Why don't you write something for him too?"
Cirilla jumps at the opportunity and once she's out of sight, Lizzie turns to Geralt, determined to get a word or two nailed to this man's brain. It won't be long before Jaskier is done taking pictures with all his fans, so she's gotta be fast.
"This probably isn't news for you, but my brother is a very social person. He needs people, and he likes being needed in return. That's why he gets attached to friends and acquaintances rather quickly." She sounds fond but also a bit exasperated by Jaskier's antics. "He likes it here, I can tell. He likes the city, he likes his new apartment, he likes Priscilla and Essi... and he likes you, for whatever reason. No offense." She shrugs with one shoulder - she doesn't think it would be fair to sugarcoat it. Geralt seems to be a smart man, he must know how different he and Jaskier are. "He's put his trust in you, regardless if you asked for it or not. I know Jas can be a bit of a nuisance sometimes, but he's also loyal to a fault. I won't ask you to take care of him - he can take care of himself. But I will ask you not to play games with him, alright?"