"Hm," Geralt says in reply, as though that answers anything. It's a guess, mostly, but an educated one-- he thinks he remembers the melody from music that he'd heard Ciri playing in her room before, and it doesn't sound like the unbearably repetitive Top 40 radio music. What really tips him off, though, is the familiarity that Jaskier has with it, the ease with which he sings it. He knows the song inside and out.
It isn't important, though, because Jaskier is enthralled by the field of flowers that stretches out in front of them. He quotes something that's probably poetry-- he seems like the type-- and identifies one of the many kinds of flowers that are blossoming near the path. Buttercups, bursting from the earth in clusters of brilliant yellow. The musician stops Pegasus at the side of the path and dismounts, and Geralt gives a gentle tug on the reins to stop Roach, too. Can't leave the guy behind.
He watches with bemusement as Jaskier picks buttercups and sticks one of them behind his ear, saving the other ones for braiding into Pegasus' long mane. He's surprisingly efficient at braiding, and it doesn't take him long at all to start weaving the flowers into the horse's hair.
"Should be fine," he says. "Horses don't usually eat buttercups. Tastes bad."
Which is good, because they're poisonous, too. Only horses in overgrazed pasture with nothing else to eat would resort to eating buttercups. The point of this trail ride isn't really for Jaskier to get off of the damn horse and braid his hair like they're middle school girls at a sleepover, but Jaskier's also paying for this time. So if he wants to spend his hard-earned YouTube money on standing around in a meadow, picking buttercups, that's his prerogative. It's all the same to Geralt.
No reply, huh? (Because that grunt can't be called a reply.) Then it was either a lucky guess or he got it from his daughter, Jaskier thinks. Not so impressing after all, what a disappointment. For a moment there he thought they could have a proper chat about music. Geralt doesn't take the opportunity to insult him again either, though, and Jaskier is more confused than ever.
What is the deal with this guy anyway?
"I'd image they don't - they are poisonous after all. And you know better, don't you, boy?"
It's what made him choose buttercups over dandelions when choosing his name, a little extra fact that always takes everyone by surprise. As romantic and pretty as having a flower name is, Jaskier likes that extra layer of meaning behind it - he's not only softness and poetry, he's also got a silver tongue to go with it.
Geralt doesn't need to worry, though, Jaskier only braids a couple more flowers in Pegasus' mane before he's ready to go. While wouldn't mind staying here and write and just enjoy the sunset, he does want to finish the trip through the trails. A picture of his braiding work later, Jaskier is back on the horse, one last buttercup in his hand...
Which he puts behind Geralt's ear when he comes close enough to lean in and reach it. It's a quick moment, a mere brush of skin, a better look into yellow eyes (oh, how dare he have such eyes) before he pulls back - and in seconds he's gone, taking Pegasus deeper into the flower bed as he recites a new poem, no interruptions this time.
"The warm sun kissed the Earth to consecrate thy birth, and from his close embrace thy radiant face sprang into sight, a blossoming delight." He takes two more pics, one of the flowers and one selfie, before moving along. "I could recite poetry to this sight all day long. Your daughter is incredibly lucky to have such beauty as her own garden."
Jaskier finishes braiding up Pegasus' mane, and it's... silly, honestly. The flowers are just going to wilt and he'll have to brush them out of his mane by the end of the day. Braids, at least, are practical enough-- it's a good way to keep the mane tidy and free of tangles-- but all of the practicality is undone by the addition of the flowers. It's frivolous, which Geralt thinks probably describes Jaskier in general.
Frivolous.
The musician saddles up again once he's done, walking Pegasus up next to Roach, and Geralt has turned his head to ask him if he's finally ready to keep going when Jaskier's hand reaches out. Geralt jerks back, unused to hands right by his face, but when all's said and done, there's just a buttercup tucked behind his ear. Jaskier's fingers had brushed his cheek when he was pulling back, and the place he touched feels like it's been burned.
Jaskier spurs Pegasus further into the flowers, trotting off among the brightly colored blossoms. Geralt curses under his breath and follows, telling his horse to 'Come on, Roach' as he goes after him. He usually sticks to the trails for a reason-- Jaskier doesn't know where the hell he's going, but if he stuck to the path, it would at least eventually take him back to the ranch. Without someone to guide him, Geralt's fairly certain that he'd wander off into whatever part of nature looked prettiest, and then he'd probably die there or something. Like the city boy he is.
"It's not a garden," he replies, because they're at the foothills of the fucking mountains, not his grandmother's backyard. Or, more likely, his grandmother's cultivated English estate tea garden, considering his poncy rich boy background. Probably doesn't even realize that there are mountain lions and bears and goddamn coyotes out here.
He ought to tell Jaskier to get the fuck back to the trail, but he does know the way through this meadow, and they can catch the trail once they get down through this one and past the stream. It'll technically even cut some time off of their ride, to make up for what Jaskier spent messing around with flowers.
"Stay with me and don't wander off," he says, trotting ahead with Roach. The meadow sloped slightly upwards, a steady but even grade towards the mountains; it leveled off a bit after maybe another twenty minutes of riding, the wildflowers tapering off to tall grasses the closer they got to the stream. This time of year, the water's low and calm enough to easily walk the horses through. As they walk up the banks, the horses step through cattails, through the long, lace-shaped leaves and dusty-pink flowers of rose milkweed. The chokeberry bushes are practically dripping with heavy clusters of delicate white flowers-- might be a lot of berries this summer, if the animals don't get to them first.
They make it back to the ranch just before it starts getting truly dark-- the sun's still sinking low, but it's not quite so late that the horses would have trouble seeing where they're stepping. They rub down the horses and get them put away in their stalls, and Pegasus has been worked hard today, so Geralt gives him a little extra oats for his dinner. Just as a treat, for being good for the city boy.
Once Jaskier gets his things, Geralt walks him back up to the main road, where his ride can pick him up. He's going the same way, and it's best to make sure he doesn't get lost.
"We'll say it's seventy," he says, which is low-balling it, but it's fine. "Call it a first-time discount."
"It's called a metaphor, Geralt." He says with an eyeroll and a huff. His poetry is wasted on this man, isn't it? He'll have to ask the daughter some time if she considers this beauty her own personal garden, see what happens. "Yeah, yeah, I'll be a good boy, Mr Cantankerous Cowboy."
His tone is mocking, but turns out, he actually keeps his word. Seeing as Geralt obviously isn't interested in chitchatting, Jaskier hums or sings the rest of the ride, only stopping to take the occasional picture or to talk to Pegasus himself. There's a comment here and there for Roach, as well. The place is absolutely beautiful, and it keeps Jaskier's attention enough not to be an annoying brat. The colors, the sounds, the aromas... it's the relaxing time he needed, and he can already fill inspiration coming to him with its needy claws that won't let go of his brain until he gets home and writes it all down.
He loves it. Hopefully one day he can arrange something to work here, just him, his guitar and a picnic blanket.
The buttercup is still behind his ear when they make it back to the ranch, and he plans to keep it there on the ride home (maybe he could press it inside one of his poetry books). Rubbing down the horses is quite nice and not something he used to do a lot when he was a child - it helps seeing the horse as an actual animal and companion and not just a ride he just got off from, bonding with him. Jaskier makes sure to give him some last nice parting words and a good pat on his neck together with a thank you, I'll see you soon. Others would probably try out different horses, but honestly, Jaskier is already sold on this one. He's made a friend today, and he's loyal to his friends until the end.
As soon as he picks his things up, Jaskier asks for an Uber before going to Geralt, knowing he'll have a small wait ahead of him. What he doesn't see coming, however, it's that price. Both his eyebrows quickly go up, disbelief written all over his face.
"What do I look like, a charity case?" Shaking his head, Jaskier reaches into his bag for his wallet (which is, of course, as extra as he is) and grabs two 100s. He folds them together, though, to hide one with the other, before handing them to Geralt. "Keep the change." As he closes his wallet, a little bright thing calls his attention: a transparent yellow pick. Grinning with an idea forming in his head, he hands it to Geralt as well. "And this is for your daughter. A thank you for her reccomendation."
A pause as Jaskier gives the man a look over. He's still annoyed by the comment about his voice, and yet... his curiosity (and attraction, obviously) remains. There's a mystery here and he wants to unravel it (as well as unraveling certain pair of pants).
"Old or not, you do have a phone, right?" He hands Geralt his own, the new contact screen open. "Give me your number so I can plan my visits in the future. That way I won't be around your daughter, too, just like I promised." It's a pity because he does like meeting the fans and getting attention, although on the other hand, it'd be nice to keep this as a calm, secret spot away from everything. He should leave it there, try to work things up through a couple of messages maybe, but he still can't stop his mouth from asking- "Do you have a favorite song?"
Apparently, Geralt's rate is too low for this poncy asshole, and he hands Geralt what appears to be a hundred-- a thirty dollar tip on top of a seventy dollar charge is too much goddamn tip. Geralt frowns when he takes the bill from him, but decides against arguing, ultimately. It's Jaskier's money, he can do whatever he wants with it, including throw it at a ranch dad that he just met today. He pockets the money and is distracted from thinking any more about it-- or from opening up the folded bill and seeing the other hundred hidden inside it-- by this musical otter asking him for his number.
And this is more of that... odd behavior, the kind of thing that he would assume is flirting if Jaskier had been a woman. Geralt doesn't usually give out his private number, not when he has a landline for the business; he ought to tell Jaskier to call that, like everyone else. It's not like he's special just because Pegasus likes him and he's odd and rides well and Geralt took him up for a private trail ride.
Geralt takes the phone from him with a huff and enters in his name and number. This is purely for Ciri's benefit, he thinks-- it's just to look out for her and make sure that she's kept well away from strange men. And, also, it's probably not great for his daughter to harass one of his customers, even if he is YouTube famous or whatever. Then, just as he hands the phone back, Jaskier asks him about his favorite song.
He considers the question for a moment, and replies, "Yeah."
Then he turns, gives him the kind of curt good-bye that he usually does when he leaves a conversation, and heads right back down to the barn to finish up his work for the day. He'd answered the musician's question, anyway-- he'd only asked if Geralt has a favorite song, not what that song is. Teach him to be specific.
Later that night, Ciri points out that he has a buttercup in his hair. After a bit of prodding, Geralt tells her why, and she's furious that he didn't let her know that the musician was there. After he had gone to bed, his daughter still pouting but a little mollified by the pick that the musician had left for her, he thought about Jaskier's hands and his carefree laugh and Geralt could still feel the spot where his fingers brushed his face.
A few days after the musician left, Geralt finally caves to the pressure and gets a damn smartphone. It has no buttons and it's got too many colorful icons and he barely knows how to work it, but at least he's able to keep the same phone number so he doesn't have to memorize a new one. He transfers all his contacts over, including Jaskier's. Would've been a convenient time to 'lose' it if he wanted to, but...
He keeps it. It's fine.
With Ciri's help, he sets up an Insta-whatsit, under the name KaerMorhenRanch. She helps him take a few nice scenic shots of the barn and grounds for the first posts, and also snaps one of him tacking up Roach. He's lifting the saddle onto her back, the muscles in his arms filling out the sleeves of his t-shirt. He thinks it isn't a particularly good one to post, since Roach isn't even entirely in the frame, but Ciri insists that it'll do well.
It does well. More people start following the Ranch. People also start leaving strange comments, sometimes just a series of incomprehensible emojis, but Geralt ignores that.
Geralt-- or the Ranch, rather-- starts following Jaskier. It's just so that he can scroll back through this guy's feed or whatever and see the kind of stuff that he posts, whether it's appropriate for his daughter to be watching. Ciri huffs when she realizes, still a little upset at him about the whole not telling her that her favorite musician was at the Ranch thing, but Geralt is undeterred. He spends an evening scrolling through all of the posts that Jaskier made, watching a few of his videos. It seems fine-- he swears a little, but there's nothing terribly inappropriate. And what fourteen-year-old hasn't heard fuck by now?
He finds the blond girl from Jaskier's lock screen in a few other photos, and reading the captions tells him that she's his sister. That's... well. That should be nothing, it shouldn't matter at all, but it does, kind of? Geralt decides not to think about it. Further back, he finds a picture of Jaskier with his shirt hiked up, revealing a colorful musical tattoo; a picture of him wearing a shirt saying things about phases of the moon; a series of posts from when he went to a Pride parade in London. He looks brilliantly happy, dressed in bright colors and grinning cheerfully at the camera, flags painted on his cheeks. He recognizes the colors of one of them from the sticker on his guitar case, and that's... another thing that shouldn't matter. Jaskier is a customer, his personal life isn't Geralt's business.
Jaskier's next cover that he puts up on his YouTube account-- because Geralt follows him there now, too, but from a more discreet gmail account-- is Stacey's Mom. Against his better judgement, Geralt posts a comment.
whitewolf 1 minute ago cougars love a babyface
Is it immature? Yes. But who's going to judge him for one little immature comment?
Geralt really shouldn't enjoy all of this, though-- the YouTube channel, the Instagram, the text messages-- as much as he does in the following days, weeks. The messages should be all to the point, purely business, just Jaskier asking Geralt when Pegasus is available or when he could go up on the trails. It shouldn't be the musician asking him what he's doing and Geralt sending him back a picture of his boots immediately after Roach had shit on them. It's too friendly, too familiar.
He does it anyway.
got the afternoon free if you want to go up on the trail
Jaskier is left with his phone on his hand, staring at the retrieving silhouette of Geralt on the road, mouth hanging open in shock. Did he just seriously...? This asshole! The nerve! The scandal! Puffing up like a blowfish, Jaskier yells one word at him, an insult in Polish that his grandmother taught him.
"Skurwysyn!"
Let the bastard guess what it means, hmph.
Funnily enough, Jaskier returns to his apartment feeling invigorated. Geralt's mean words aside, he's gotten exactly what he wanted: a day to relax, let the stress behind for an afternoon. He also got to look at a hot guy plus his number, which is a bonus. Even negative emotions are still emotions, and Jaskier is an emotional person - also an artist. He embraces all his feelings, welcomes them and makes them inspiration. Even his frustration at the man is better than being tired, which is the most blank and boring feeling.
He saves the little buttercup between the pages of a poetry book (I know you're bad for me and that I should go on without you, the poem says - he knows his subconscious knows exactly what it is doing when it chooses that one) and his next cover is Stacy's Mom. His sister tells him she's already buying wine for when this crush crashes and burns.
Sunday is spent finishing unpacking, but his mood is much better, especially when ranch daughter comments on his photos and thanks her for the pick and the promotion. He's glad to have made a fan happy with such a small gesture.
When Monday comes, he has the energy to go out and do some networking. It's a busy but very satisfying week. He gets to know the bars, the owners, puts out some signs for private music classes, walks in every music shop he can find. He flirts, he winks, he discusses music - he makes contacts. And friends! His hitting on a lovely blonde called Priscilla doesn't work as far as flirting in the Folk Music section goes, but they end up chatting anyway, and she introduces him to her friend Essi as well. They both recognize him and are happy to include him next time they go out - they're his kind of people, always eager to make new pals.
Come the weekend, Jaskier finally has dancing, drinking and an one night stand back in his life. Things are looking up.
During that whole time, though, he doesn't stop texting Geralt. The man is hard to talk to, but luckily for him, Jaskier is great at keeping one-sided conversations. The fact Geralt replies at all is a good sign, he decides - if the guy really didn't stand him, he would ignore him or even block him. Jaskier sends pictures, youtube links to music, random comments about his day, some ranting about the mother of the new kid he gets to teach guitar to, questions about setting up a bird feeder on his balcony (you know animals, right, Geralt?) or about markets in the city. It gets easier to chat with the man as day passes, and Jaskier is slowly learning he isn't actually mean, just a little shit.
Which he can't complain about, really, considering he's a brat.
Geralt has a very particular sense of humor, dry and sarcastic, and while there's a bunch of 'normal people topics' he doesn't give a damn about, when a subject does interest him (see: horses) he can be very eloquent. He's a secret softie, Jaskier is starting to read between the lines, especially for his daughter - who, by the way, has been nothing by a darling on social media, thanking Jaskier for the pick and the promotion. Speaking of social media...
Mr Old Time Ranch DILF gives in and buys a phone, also gets an Instagram. Jaskier teases him for it, feeling like they're slowly becoming friends (his new visits to the ranch as successful and fun as the first one, now he's even being charged properly! hooray!) that enjoy each other's company so he's earned the right to do so. He makes sure to be his first follower -not counting the daughter- and goes to all the ranch pictures he's already uploaded and makes sure to tag the business account.
He also masturbates to a picture of Geralt that shows off his muscles. Sue him.
The biggest surprise is, Geralt follows him back. So he HAS to know Jaskier is bisexual by now, right? He couldn't possibly have missed it. And yet there's no word from him in that matter. While Jaskier has learned that Geralt is like skittish deer (best approached carefully and slowly), it only means he has tuned down the flirting a little not to be overwhelming, it hasn't gone completely away. Yet Geralt doesn't flirt back, nor does he turn him down. It's just... there. Truly a mysterious man, and Jaskier wants to uncover the mystery even more now than the day they met, because Geralt is interesting and nice and Jaskier wants him around.
Thankfully, Destiny is slowly giving Jaskier the things he wants. First, he finally finds his first gig in the city, which has him doing a cute little dance around the apartment. He's already considering calling his new friends to go celebrate, but then second comes: Geralt tells him to visit the ranch. Woah.
Jaskier can't help to stare at the screen for a moment, smiling yet feeling torn - should he read too much into this? It could be simply a business thing, Jaskier always tries to leave a tip and makes good promotion with his pictures. On the other hand... well, he isn't an expert on Geralt, but he doesn't think this guy is the kind to make these kinds of offers. It does feel special. It may not be a date but... it's a sign, right? Geralt wants, at least, to hang out. Jaskier allows his grin to grow as he replies.
aww missing me already? 😏😊 I'd love to! would it possible to stay longer this time? I'd love to watch the sunset as well 🌞 we could have picnic! 🥂
Jaskier is a surprisingly good customer-- he's courteous to the other patrons, treats the horses well. He seems to like Pegasus and the horse likes him in return, which is about as good of a recommendation as Geralt can get for anyone. He's... fine. He sends Geralt text messages about stupid things that happen during his day, sometimes even the occasional YouTube video about something silly. Geralt occasionally responds when he thinks the message merits it, but even when he doesn't reply, he reads them all.
His therapist says that this is how people make friends. Geralt doesn't exactly agree with him, but he doesn't hate the musician's presence around the barn. That's... enough, probably. He wouldn't call them friends, but he's... not bad. Acceptable.
figured i should have you down when you can't bother anyone else get here around 3 if you want a picnic, bring something that works with fruit
Which isn't dissuading the picnic, really. It just means that Jaskier has to take the initiative, Geralt will go along with it.
It's getting into summer, and Geralt... well, usually he'd go up and pick wild berries with Ciri, but she's at her mother's for the next few weeks. So there's a lot of berries that need to be gathered or else they'll just get eaten by birds, and he might as well take Jaskier up to help, right? And it's not like he'll get nothing out of it, anyway, he'll get all the berries that he can carry home. He can make jam or something.
He's tacking up Roach when the musician arrives, lifting the saddle onto her back and tightening up the girth, his biceps straining against the confines of his shirt. He has baskets ready to attach to the saddle, to take up with them when they go up. Water and snacks in the saddlebags, though not anything particularly fancy-- nuts and trail mix, the kind of stuff that you pack in case someone starts getting hypoglycemic during a ride. Not exactly the stuff of romantic platonic picnics.
He looks over his shoulder at Jaskier, then returns his attention to Roach.
"Pegasus could use the exercise," he says, which isn't much of a greeting, admittedly. But it's easy to talk about horses. "Had a lesson canceled."
it's okay, Geralt, no need to make up excuses to see me 😉 see you at three then! ✌
That's a yes on the picnic, then, and Geralt is even providing dessert. Jaskier grins widely at his screen - could this mean something? He won't let his hopes go up, not yet, but it's good to see things are progressing. This is another point on the 'he wants us to hang out' column.
After a nice shower, Jaskier chooses more casual, lighter clothes to fit the summer heat and the informality of a picnic. He ends up with a silly yet very cute t-shirt under an open red flannel shirt, his sunglasses hanging on the shirt's pocket, tight jeans as always. He already has a bottle of fine wine at home, so he puts it, a couple of glasses and a simple yellow tablecloth in his tote bag, which gets a little heavier when a box of finger sandwiches joins the previous items later. The guitar also comes, of course, can't leave his baby at home!
When he makes it to the ranch, he can't help staying against the door of the stables at first, admiring... well. The view. Geralt's muscles always flex just right whenever he's tacking up Roach - who cares about the trail, really, Jaskier could stay here and just watch ranch DILF tack up horses all day long.
(And maybe he could be tacked up for a ride too--)
Geralt has other plans though. Indeed, there's no greeting, but Jaskier doesn't mind. On the contrary, it makes him feel like a friend. There's no performative business welcome, just normal conversation, as if they had just been texting two seconds ago. Geralt probably doesn't mean it that way, Jaskier suspects - if there's something he's learned about the man in their interactions so far, it's that he has some issues socializing. But precisely because of that, he doubts any client can just show up in the stables like this. Another good sign.
"My trusted stallion, abandoned!" Jaskier exclaims with a hand on his chest. But being dramatic doesn't stop him from leaving aside his things for a moment to start working on his tacking up as well. "Don't worry, my new friend, you can always count on me. We shall have a lovely ride together, and you and Roach can graze while Geralt and I have our little picnic. Right, Geralt?" He turns to the man with his head tilted. "What was it you mentioned about fruit anyway? Can we share those with the horses?"
Jaskier has his dramatic moment, talking to Pegasus as though the animal could actually understand him, hand clasped to his chest. Geralt huffs as he finishes tightening up the girth, ignoring the way that Roach smacks him with her tail to show her displeasure. Too bad, horse-- the girth is mandatory, Geralt's not riding bareback all the way up the damn trail just because his horse doesn't like a strap around her belly.
The musician eventually quits his theatrics and gets around to tacking up, which is good because Geralt doesn't plan on waiting around all day. He even asks a question that's actually thoughtful and relevant, which is really a first. Geralt might think that he's learning, but he knows Jaskier well enough by this point to know he's not.
Might as well share the whole purpose of this outing, anyway. And the reason why he wants another pair of hands along.
"Fruit's fine, but only a little. Too much sugar."
It would be bad for their teeth, just like for people. But people could goddamn brush and go to a dentist, and Geralt didn't care about Jaskier's dental hygiene. He could eat sugar 'til his teeth all fall out of his head if he wants to. Geralt takes Roach's bridle and starts leading her out of the barn, assuming that Jaskier will follow.
"Wild berries grow well up around the mountain," he says. "Should be getting ripe right around now. We'll want to get at it before the animals do."
As tempting as the bounty is to humans, it's just as much to animals. But there's usually plenty to go around; when he'd brought Ciri up last year, they'd been able to eat their fill and still gather all the berries that they could carry down. This year-- well, they'd probably get less, because Geralt's pretty certain that his daughter could carry more weight than this whole-ass adult man.
With that explanation, he swings himself into the saddle and starts heading up the trail, along the scenic route that Jaskier might recognize from his last excursion up into the hills.
Only a little, Jaskier mumbles, not happy about the answer. So he whispers to Pegasus that he'll save the juiciest fruit he finds for him before picking up his stuff again and following Geralt out of the barn, just like the man assumes.
And following him he does... at first. After hearing Geralt's explanation, Jaskier can't help freezing, staring at the guy ahead of him with wide eyes. He wants to believe Geralt is slowly accepting the fact they're becoming friends, that's why he got the message, right? But this? Feels like so much more. He could've picked the berries with anyone - his daughter, especially. Alone, even, just he and his horse against nature. Isn't that what Geralt likes?
Geralt getting on the horse and riding away is what makes him snap out of it. Jaskier hurries to get on Pegasus as well, making his horse going a bit faster than a simple trot to catch up with his friend, side by side, and look directly at his face when he asks his question. Because what the fuck does it mean.
"Sooooo, let me see if I'm getting this right. We're having a picnic and going berry picking together? You saved this little activity to do with me, your new friend?" Once again, he puts a hand on his chest. "Geralt, I'm touched! You do care!"
A little overdramatic, probably, but he has to compensate somehow. Because what he's actually dying to ask right now is is this a date?.
Geralt hears Pegasus trot to catch up to him, which is a little odd-- had Jaskier just forgotten to get on the damn horse? They aren't going to walk the horses up the mountain, after all. The idea that his explanation caused such a dramatic response in the musician hasn't occurred to him, but it probably should just because Jaskier reacts dramatically to everything.
Sometimes, berry picking is just berry picking, and you shouldn't read too much into it.
(Sometimes, as a certain discredited Austrian psychologist might have said, a cigar is just a cigar. But sometimes it's a cock.)
"Friend is a strong word," he replies to Jaskier's histrionics. He's making a lot out of this, and out of their... acquaintance. Geralt had mentioned the other man during his therapy session, just in passing, and his therapist had made a whole deal about it, too. Something about how this is how people make friends, but she'd dropped the subject after Geralt had insisted that they aren't friends, he's just a customer who has his private phone number and hangs around the ranch a lot and sometimes sends him cat videos. As not-friends do.
"But, yes, we're going to pick berries. I would take Ciri, but she's at her mother's."
And he could have done it himself, but... well, he can get more with another pair of hands. Eskel might have agreed to help him, but he's been busy, and Geralt wouldn't have even bothered to ask Lambert. So, strange hipster musician it is.
It's a good day for it, and a good day for a ride, at least-- warm but not oppressively hot, with enough big, puffy cumulus clouds overhead to provide occasional relief from the sun. Jaskier will get plenty of that natural beauty or whatever it is that he comes out here for.
Welp. That sure is disappointing. Not the fact that isn't a date-- well, okay, that's a little disappointing as well, but it's not like Jaskier had big hopes in that area. No, what is disappointing is the fact that Geralt doesn't even want to accept the word friend. Jaskier doesn't know the man extremely well yet, but he's at least gathered he isn't the most social of blokes, that's for sure. He didn't expect him, however, to be this far in the antisocial scale. Especially considering their current situation... huh, he should use that.
"Oh, really? We're not using the word friends now?"
The times they've done trail riding so far, Jaskier had followed Geralt around. This is a wake-up all, though, so he doesn't return to his usual spot, he stays riding side by side, the dark tones of Geralt and Roach against the light colors of Pegasus and him. It's poetic, really, and he'll appreciate it better later when isn't being completed offended by this asshole. Knowing to trust his lovely white partner by now, Jaskier grabs the reins with only one hand in order to use the other one to gesture between them, indicating their relationship. Obviously.
"So you usually just chat with any client of yours through texts, send them pictures of what your horse did to your boots and save for them special activities you'd usually do with your precious daughter?" When Geralt glares at him as an answer, Jaskier snorts and goes back to looking at the natural beauty around them, keeping an incredibly smug look on his face. "Yeah, that's what I thought." But after a short pause, he softens into a kind smile. "But thank you. It sounds like fun."
And he means it. Date illusions aside, he does enjoy Geralt's company, even as a friend. If the man just happens to need a little pushing to get there, well, Jaskier will gladly be that pusher.
The weather is perfect for a picnic and a nice ride, and Jaskier can't wait to sit down, relax, drink some wine and take a couple of pictures. Maybe one with Geralt? If he promises not to post it to his social media, maybe he can get him to agree to the idea instead of having to snap one before the guy growls at him.
Something else is in his mind at this very moment, though. Something Geralt said. Jaskier glances at him a couple of times before finally deciding to just go for it, to hell with precautions.
"You don't mention her much - Ciri's mother, I mean. Are you divorced, Geralt?"
A nice way of asking or is she the consequences of a one night stand without protection.
Jaskier insinuates that Geralt's behavior towards him has been less acquaintance-like and more friendship-like and he shoots him an irritated glare. His therapist had said something similar, and, really, everyone can just get the fuck off his dick about what he calls his... whatever the fuck this is. He doesn't know, he just doesn't want to analyze it. Jaskier is just the asshole that rides his horses, okay?
Geralt doesn't make any verbal reply to Jaskier's accusations of friendship, instead just grumbling and squeezing Roach into a faster trot.
There are a few blessed minutes of quiet, where the only sounds are the trilling birdsong in the trees and the sound of wind through foliage. It really is a lovely day for a ride, and better when he can actually fucking enjoy it, when he can focus on the trail ahead of him and pretend that it's just him and Roach, making their way up to the meadows--
Jaskier speaks. Geralt beseeches the uncaring gods for strength.
"If I was divorced, I'd be getting alimony," he says, because gods know that Yen makes more than he does every year. Probably several times over, he never asked but she's got that fancy brownstone in the city that she lives in, and all those designer clothes. Geralt sure as fuck didn't buy them for her.
He looks sidelong at the musician, as though trying to discern why he'd suddenly have an interest in his... ex-girlfriend? Baby mama? Yen would kill him for even thinking that term.
"She'd eat you alive."
Also, he's not setting up one of his customers with his daughter's mother. Both because Yen doesn't need his help with her love life, and also because she would eat this musical otter for breakfast and move on to another man by lunch. Geralt's not dealing with the fallout from that.
Roach is squeezed into a faster trot and so Pegasus gets the same treatment - there's no way Jaskier is letting Geralt get away with this! He wouldn't allow it in any outing, but especially not today when it was Geralt himself that invited him to come. The alimony comment makes him laugh, but next one leaves him confused.
She'd eat you alive? What does that even mean? Frowning, Jaskier tilts his head at Geralt, trying to figure out where that random statement even comes from. He's asking about Geralt's relationship with his ex as conversation, not trying to set-up some sort of meeting... oh. No fucking way.
"...bloody hell. You think I want to date her? What the fuck, Geralt!"
Jaskier throws his free hand in the air, obviously exasperated. He knows he's a bit of a slut (a bit?) and he isn't sure if Geralt has caught up on that yet, but still: rude. He's not that constantly horny, he can still have basic conversations! (No, really.)
"First of all, I don't need your help to find dates. I've already had a taste of American meat, thank you very much. But most importantly: what the fuck!" Has he already said that? Oh well, it deserves to be repeated. "How can you think I'm seriously asking you to set me up with your ex! I'm just trying to learn more about you, Geralt. You know, as friends do."
Geralt shrugs one shoulder at Jaskier's offense. Nothing to be so pissy about, though, most people want to date Yen once they've seen her. She's beautiful-- truly, heart-stoppingly beautiful, the kind of beauty that opens doors and influences people. She'd leveraged it as she leverages everything in her life, with one great exception. If Jaskier saw her, Geralt wouldn't have been surprised or even really blamed him for wanting to get close to her. She's like gravity. Geralt felt the pull of it when they were young, still feels the tug in his chest even now.
Then Jaskier opens his mouth again and he's reminded of all the ways that Yen would probably hate him. That's probably for the best. The musician even says the words American meat and Geralt's fairly certain that he hates him for that, too. The glare that he levels at him would certainly indicate as such.
"Hm." He knows that Jaskier hates it when he only grunts in reply-- it'd be a lie if he said that reaction isn't part of why he does it. And, really, who's Jaskier trying to fool? To learn more about you, what a load of shit. People want to learn about him because he looks a certain way, like something they want, and then they find out about the ex-con thing and that his grunts and general lack of communication aren't just him trying to be mysterious or some horseshit, he really just is like that, and their desire to learn abruptly cuts off.
"Friend's still a strong word."
Geralt doesn't really have friends. He has brothers, and a daughter, and an ex that he's on reasonably good terms with, barring a couple of occasions in the past when he'd been trying to get his shit together and hadn't quite let go of the idea that Yen might be the answer to everything. He doesn't need friends. He's only just figured out how to manage the relationships that he already has.
But they're nearing the meadows, and that will be the perfect opportunity to switch from this nightmare conversation into the blissful distraction of physical labor. Can't talk when you're keeping your hands busy with berry-picking, right?
Indeed, Jaskier absolutely loathes that damn grunt, and Geralt gets exactly the reaction he's looking for: a frustrated groan, which only gets worse when he denies the word friend again. He's been expecting Geralt to be kinda dense, but not this dense. It's a whole new record. Luckily for Geralt (in Jaskier's eyes anyway), this musical otter doesn't give up easily.
"I believe we just went over the facts, Mister Loner, and the only obvious conclusion to this-" He points between them. "-is friendship."
Geralt is dismissive of this once again, and Jaskier is ready to start puffing up like a blowfish, but the meadows soon come into view and with them the berry bushes. There's a bigger variety than he expected: strawberries, blueberries, honeyberries, and even salmonberries. It's a wonderful party of colors, and of course he needs to take a picture before they get down to business.
The horses are left grazing and for once, Jaskier stays silent while Geralt teaches him the basics. It can be tempting to stay in constant motion, but it's better and more efficient to stay in one spot, taking the time to really look under leaves or at the tops and bottoms of bushes before moving on. Will save him energy, he says, as if Jaskier wasn't a constant ball of it. No need to pick an entire cluster, only choose the ripe berries from the group, they should easily fall off the stems. Avoid berries from a broken branch, and go to the top of bushes for the sweetest fruit since they're usually sun-ripened.
Pretty simple instructions, Jaskier thinks, and he's very pleased by this turn of events. Because if he doesn't have to pay tons of attention to little details, then it means he can continue to chat with Mr DILF while they work. No, Geralt, physical labor won't shut the blabbermouth up. Sorry.
"What do you have against the word friends anyway?" He asks while working on a decent pile of honeyberries and being internally grateful he decided to take his hat from his tote bag and put it on before starting. The sun is definitely warming them pretty heavily as they stand next to the bushes. "Does it ruin your Brooding Lone Wolf image or something? Because let me tell you, mate, that shipped sailed and sunk the moment you started replying to my texts."
He already used that argument, he knows, but he can't let this go. There's something weird going on and he wants to reach the bottom of it! They day they met, he classified Geralt as a mystery, and he is now realizing how accurate that had been. Who invites someone to go berry picking if they are not friends and it's not a job obligation? It doesn't make sense.
"Is your ex a touchy topic I shouldn't have gone into? If so, sorry. But you can just tell me so."
While waiting for an answer, Jaskier gives in to temptation and picks one of the strawberries in his basket to nibble on it. It's sweet and juicy, simply delicious, and he hums with lips around the fruit to show his appreciation of it.
While the horses enjoy their grazing time in the meadow, Geralt shows Jaskier the berry-picking ropes. He is, at least, paying attention, and it seems more or less like most of the information is retained in his flighty head. Not that it's exactly hard, so the bar isn't set very high, but Geralt is at least fairly certain that he won't fuck anything up too badly and pick bad berries or unripe ones or something.
If only it meant that he would shut up for a little while.
While Geralt digs his way through the tangled mass of a blueberry bush, searching for the best berries while also trying to avoid getting stung by bees, Jaskier continues to chatter. It's a wonder that the man doesn't swallow a bug with how much he has his damn mouth open, though Geralt almost wishes that he would-- it would teach him a valuable lesson.
Geralt only grunts in response to the friends question, not deigning it with a verbal reply. He knew that he shouldn't have given the musician his personal phone number, and now it's coming back to bite him right in the ass. If he'd just told the guy to call him on the landline, they would've been able to avoid this whole stupid friends business. And, besides, responding once or twice to a cat meme with 'cute' or, on one occasion, 'what the fuck am i looking at' does not a friendship make.
He emerges briefly from the blueberry bush to swat a few bees off of his arms. He's been stung once or twice in the process, and uses the edge of his thumbnail to scrape the stingers out of his skin. Jaskier asks about Yen, but not for information about her-- just to know if she's something he can't talk about.
"There's nothing to go into," he replies. "She's Ciri's mother. That's it."
It's at that point that Geralt looks up, just in time to see Jaskier snacking on some of the wild strawberries. The strawberries have done well this year, full and ripe and sweet, and when he bites into the flesh, his lips are wet and shiny with juice. Geralt has the sudden odd urge to find out what the strawberries taste like, and realizes probably a moment too late that he's staring at Jaskier's mouth. He turns away, back to the bush, and goes back to his blueberry hunt out of the need to have his hands doing something. Otherwise, he isn't... entirely sure what he might do with them.
Yeah, that absolutely sounds like touchy topic he shouldn't go into to Jaskier. He turns to Geralt to apologize and change the subject, only to find him... staring? Not at his eyes, though, he's not glaring at him for his comments. He follows the direction of Geralt's gaze to check and--
No fucking way.
Is this really happening? Is he reading this correctly? Is it actual progress? Eager to test his theory and with his heart beating a little faster than usual, Jaskier finishes the rest of the strawberry in one bite, then proceeds to very slowly lick his lips while trying to make eye contact.
Geralt just turns and leaves.
Bollocks. Has he made him uncomfortable? But is it in a good way or a bad way? Why is this guy so hard to read, for fuck's sake! Thankfully Jaskier is nothing but stubborn, so he quickly follows Geralt into the bushes, grabbing a couple of honeyberries on the way. He doesn't go back to picking yet - in fact he hurries to end up ahead of Geralt on the path, walking backwards so there's no way Mr DILF can miss his little show.
"You know, Geralt..." This grin? Could put Cheshire's to shame. "You still haven't told me your favorite song."
A bit of a lame question, really. His quest to get to know Geralt better isn't over yet, but right now his goal has changed: conversation is just an excuse to stay in front of the man, blue eyes locked on golden as he takes the honeyberry to his mouth and fucking suckles. After two seconds though, he bites on it, pretending it was an accidental brush of his teeth when it fact he knows exactly what he is doing: letting the berry juice drip down the corner of his mouth.
"Oops." He says after swallowing the berry with a quick swipe of this tongue. A thumb reaches up to clean the juice drip on his face and, of course, he sucks it clean then, letting go of it with an audible pop.
Jaskier skips ahead of him on the path, turning to walk backwards so that he's facing Geralt. There's a part of him that vindictively hopes that he'll trip, just to teach him a lesson about being purposefully annoying. No luck-- the musician is unfortunately sure-footed as he goes.
And he's got a handful of honeyberries, ones that have been on the bush for long enough that they're almost overripe, plump and practically popping with juice. Jaskier asks him a question but Geralt barely even registers the words, because he has taken one of the berries to his lips and is practically fellating it. He has a clever mouth, and that would make sense in the sort of abstract academic way of assuming that being a vocalist would require skill in mouth-related subjects. It's far different to see it demonstrated in this way, like the difference between knowing someone's good at tongue-twisters and watching them tie a knot in a cherry stem with their tongue.
It still shouldn't matter, because Jaskier is a man and the oral dexterity of men isn't something that's in Geralt's purview. Jaskier's oral dexterity is extremely distracting.
"Hm."
That doesn't answer the question and there's maybe a bit of a choked edge to that grunt, but Geralt smoothly and effectively covers that up by walking off the path and directly into the dense foliage that grows next to it, going into it far enough that the path was out of sight. Because pushing his way into the middle of a bunch of berry bushes until he can't see Jaskier anymore is a completely reasonable response to this situation.
There are berries all around him. He starts picking them, and it's a relief to have something to do with his hands that does not, in any way, involve a foppish musician who can't seem to do his shirt up all the way.
Geralt takes out his phone and types a short message to Lambert. He needs to get laid, apparently fucking yesterday, and Lambert might be a shit wingman but every other man in the bar looks better by comparison, so his presence isn't entirely unhelpful. So he'll just pick some woman up at the bar, fuck her until he stops feeling weird, and then everything would be fine. Totally solid plan.
Oh, great, another grunt. Jaskier thinks something is a bit different about this particular one, but he can't tell for sure, he's still learning to read this wall in a man's body. There definitely is staring at his mouth, no doubts about that - but once again, Geralt shows no reaction other than leaving. Ignoring the show because it annoys him or because it was having an effect on him and he doesn't want to admit it?
AND WHY IS THIS MAN SO HARD TO READ! Never has Jaskier had this much trouble flirting.
Ignoring the berries for now, Jaskier hurries down the path once more, blue eyes fixed on the man ahead of him with all the determination of the world (although the pouting kills the determined face, to be fair). Which only serves to fullfil Geralt's prophecy: Jaskier doesn't see the rock before he steps on it and, obviously, trips...
Just as Geralt is turning around...
Taking him down with him on the dirt.
Baskets and berries fly and land all over the grass as Jaskier squeals in surprise, expecting his clothes to get ruined and his face to get smashed... but no pain comes. In fact, he feels... comfy? Jaskier blinks a couple of times as his mind chases confusion away, and his eyes can only widen when he realizes what -or more exactly who- has cushioned his fall.
"...oops."
He should say something else. Apologize - move away, even. But see, he's a little-- ah. Distracted at the moment. His hands are finally getting to confirm how hard those abs are, and his chin is finding out that chest is indeed as cozy as it looks. Geralt feels as amazing as he looks, and Jaskier has to pray to a god he doesn't believe in for a little miracle and not get a boner out of this.
Things that Geralt is not prepared for-- an uncoordinated otter to come barreling through the underbrush, then promptly trip and fall with his entire weight onto Geralt's chest. If he had been able to anticipate him or had better footing, he would've been able to catch him, but he's caught unprepared and Jaskier's weight takes him to the ground. It isn't exactly a pretty landing, either, Geralt lands hard and has another body right on top of him. For a few seconds, he's sucking wind, all of the breath knocked out of his lungs.
Oops, Jaskier says, like this is all just a harmless little accident and Geralt isn't going to have a goose egg on the back of his head. Meanwhile, his face is right between Geralt's tits and his hands are getting a little fresh with his torso. Most people would get off after falling on someone, but not Jaskier-- apparently, he takes the opportunity to get a good feel of people's abs. Well, too bad for him, there are no soft curves or big breasts for him to feel up, just hard muscle.
Geralt grabs the musician by the back of the collar of his shirt and pulls him off, since he seems a bit disinclined to do it himself.
"Jaskier," he says, his voice dipping into that nearly growling range that usually sends folks running in the opposite direction. "Stay on the path if you're just going to fall all over yourself."
Then he gets up and retrieves the fallen basket, trying to salvage as much of the berries as possible.
Jaskier starts to apologize, but a (kinda pathetic) squeal leaves his lips instead. Geralt is grabbing him by his shirt and--
-oh.
Ooooooh.
Fuck.
It's not easy to embarrass Jaskier - the man is quite shameless. And to be fair, it's not quite embarrassment that gets his cheeks red and his throat dry. No, it's the fact that Geralt is as strong as he looks. It's the fact he can move him as if he weighed nothing at all. It's the fact his name is said with that growl that sends a shiver down his spine, the fact he just got to feel his boobs, plus the summer sun above them, it's--
It's... a very bad case of blue balls.
Double fuck.
Geralt continues to work, but Jaskier needs a moment. Face flushed and mouth hanging open, he stays sitting on the ground, trying to put himself together. When he finally moves, it's to take off his hat and fan himself with it. Honestly, the fact he doesn't have a boner right now is a huge fucking miracle - and experience, probably, because Jaskier is used to finding pretty people everywhere. He has been training his body since his hormones brought puberty home.
And yet... this DILF is going to be the end of him.
For a moment he considers the option of opening the bottle of wine in his tote bag, but that would only make him more pathetic. So the hat returns to his head before Jaskier crawls until he's next to Geralt and starts helping him pick up the fallen berries.
"I'm sorry," he offers with a much calmer voice. There's no dramatics, just honesty. He knows when his flirting fucks up, and this definitely counts as fucking up. "I didn't mean to make a mess of things. I just-" Really like you. "-I'm really excited to be here. I always am, but especially today because you invited me. It's nice."
It's fantastic, amazing, it makes him smile! But gotta take it a bit slower, he's already pushed Geralt enough for today.
Geralt moves Jaskier and he can feel the shiver run through the musician's body when he puts his hands on him. He tries to avoid touching people in general unless it's absolutely necessary; he looks strong and is somehow even stronger than he looks, and that fact tends to make people uncomfortable. Jaskier even needs a moment, after Geralt has turned back to the fallen berries, to compose himself, probably after having the realization of how much strength Geralt has and what that strength could do.
It's fine; he's used to that kind of reaction. He knows what he looks like. Between his muscles and his strange hair and what could be charitably called a resting bitch face, it's not surprising that most normal people look at him and think he's a brute. It's not surprising that Jaskier does. It doesn't bother him.
After a few moments, Jaskier returns to his side to help pick up the berries, his ridiculous hat back in place on his head and voice calm again. He apologizes, which at least does a little to soothe the fact that Geralt's dusty and will probably have to pick at least one tick out of his hair at this rate. Geralt's skeptical about the excited to be here part, because who would really be that excited to go up a mountain with a weird horse man and do physical labor? But Geralt had-- something. Not wanted to do this alone, maybe. The past few years that he'd come up here, it had been with Ciri, and even if he does wish that she could be here with him now, Yen had wanted to take her on a trip. Who was he to deny her that?
"Hm."
Most of the berries are still fine and can go back in the basket. Jaskier will, if nothing else, at least get something out of this venture-- more berries than he'll likely know what to do with.
"Just be more careful. I don't want to have to drag you back down the mountain if you break an ankle."
Oh, look, what is that? Ah yes, the echoes of yet another grunt. Jaskier can't help sighing - never has connecting with someone been so hard. He can already picture it: he's gonna tell his sister about his day later, and she's gonna reply for the hundredth time why do you keep on bothering?.
What can he say? He likes a challenge. There's also the fact that, while being incredibly frustrating, Geralt is also... well, honest. Jaskier knows that what he sees it's what he gets, there's no trying to navigate second meanings behind words and actions. It's refreshing, really.
Like right now - Geralt should be mad at him. And yet...
"But you'd do it anyway. My hero!"
He playfully nudges Geralt before going back to picking up berries from the ground. There's a lot of them, and they still have some bushes to go - what the hell is he going to do with so many berries? He isn't sure, but he isn't going to say no to such a gift from Geralt, even if technically he doesn't see it as such.
"Speaking of invitations and being excited..." His voice picks up enthusiasm again - and pride as well. "I've finally gotten my first gig in the city. Next Saturday! It's at night, a place for adults, so at least half of my fans can't come." He sounds amused by that, but it's also his way of subtly letting Geralt know that isn't about Cirilla. "I'd love it if you could come."
And he means it. Hopefully Geralt can see that was well.
That's definitely another grunt, because while he's not wrong-- Geralt would carry him down the goddamn mountain if he had to, even if he wouldn't like it-- he doesn't like that Jaskier has him pegged so well. He would have to, he couldn't just leave him with a broken ankle or something on the mountain, the idiot would get eaten by a coyote or a mountain lion before the night was up. And Geralt's not going back to prison for that kind of stupidity.
Thankfully, Jaskier changes the subject all on his own, going from Geralt's unfortunate weakness for a sob story to the first gig that he's gotten in the city. Apparently he'd managed to score a spot at a bar, someplace that someone like Ciri couldn't go to. Which must have been a bit of a hindrance, considering that his target audience is generally too young to drink, and therefore couldn't go into the venue. Not exactly the best choice. Geralt huffs-- figures, that this guy would end up getting a gig at a place where half his audience couldn't even go in, but who could blame him for taking something that paid?
"Trying to pad out your audience?" he asks, because why else would Jaskier ask him to come? He's probably telling literally everyone he knows, just on the off-chance that someone would take pity and show up.
But-- next Saturday. Geralt knows that he doesn't have anything going on, and his brothers have been up his ass about not doing social things. And by the time that Saturday rolls around, he'll have already gotten laid and gotten over whatever this particular bullshit is, so everything will be fine. He'll pick up some woman, fuck her until he feels normal again, and then he'll go to Jaskier's damn show because of perfectly normal non-friendship reasons.
"Farrier might be coming that day, I'll have to see."
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It isn't important, though, because Jaskier is enthralled by the field of flowers that stretches out in front of them. He quotes something that's probably poetry-- he seems like the type-- and identifies one of the many kinds of flowers that are blossoming near the path. Buttercups, bursting from the earth in clusters of brilliant yellow. The musician stops Pegasus at the side of the path and dismounts, and Geralt gives a gentle tug on the reins to stop Roach, too. Can't leave the guy behind.
He watches with bemusement as Jaskier picks buttercups and sticks one of them behind his ear, saving the other ones for braiding into Pegasus' long mane. He's surprisingly efficient at braiding, and it doesn't take him long at all to start weaving the flowers into the horse's hair.
"Should be fine," he says. "Horses don't usually eat buttercups. Tastes bad."
Which is good, because they're poisonous, too. Only horses in overgrazed pasture with nothing else to eat would resort to eating buttercups. The point of this trail ride isn't really for Jaskier to get off of the damn horse and braid his hair like they're middle school girls at a sleepover, but Jaskier's also paying for this time. So if he wants to spend his hard-earned YouTube money on standing around in a meadow, picking buttercups, that's his prerogative. It's all the same to Geralt.
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What is the deal with this guy anyway?
"I'd image they don't - they are poisonous after all. And you know better, don't you, boy?"
It's what made him choose buttercups over dandelions when choosing his name, a little extra fact that always takes everyone by surprise. As romantic and pretty as having a flower name is, Jaskier likes that extra layer of meaning behind it - he's not only softness and poetry, he's also got a silver tongue to go with it.
Geralt doesn't need to worry, though, Jaskier only braids a couple more flowers in Pegasus' mane before he's ready to go. While wouldn't mind staying here and write and just enjoy the sunset, he does want to finish the trip through the trails. A picture of his braiding work later, Jaskier is back on the horse, one last buttercup in his hand...
Which he puts behind Geralt's ear when he comes close enough to lean in and reach it. It's a quick moment, a mere brush of skin, a better look into yellow eyes (oh, how dare he have such eyes) before he pulls back - and in seconds he's gone, taking Pegasus deeper into the flower bed as he recites a new poem, no interruptions this time.
"The warm sun kissed the Earth to consecrate thy birth, and from his close embrace thy radiant face sprang into sight, a blossoming delight." He takes two more pics, one of the flowers and one selfie, before moving along. "I could recite poetry to this sight all day long. Your daughter is incredibly lucky to have such beauty as her own garden."
no subject
Frivolous.
The musician saddles up again once he's done, walking Pegasus up next to Roach, and Geralt has turned his head to ask him if he's finally ready to keep going when Jaskier's hand reaches out. Geralt jerks back, unused to hands right by his face, but when all's said and done, there's just a buttercup tucked behind his ear. Jaskier's fingers had brushed his cheek when he was pulling back, and the place he touched feels like it's been burned.
Jaskier spurs Pegasus further into the flowers, trotting off among the brightly colored blossoms. Geralt curses under his breath and follows, telling his horse to 'Come on, Roach' as he goes after him. He usually sticks to the trails for a reason-- Jaskier doesn't know where the hell he's going, but if he stuck to the path, it would at least eventually take him back to the ranch. Without someone to guide him, Geralt's fairly certain that he'd wander off into whatever part of nature looked prettiest, and then he'd probably die there or something. Like the city boy he is.
"It's not a garden," he replies, because they're at the foothills of the fucking mountains, not his grandmother's backyard. Or, more likely, his grandmother's cultivated English estate tea garden, considering his poncy rich boy background. Probably doesn't even realize that there are mountain lions and bears and goddamn coyotes out here.
He ought to tell Jaskier to get the fuck back to the trail, but he does know the way through this meadow, and they can catch the trail once they get down through this one and past the stream. It'll technically even cut some time off of their ride, to make up for what Jaskier spent messing around with flowers.
"Stay with me and don't wander off," he says, trotting ahead with Roach. The meadow sloped slightly upwards, a steady but even grade towards the mountains; it leveled off a bit after maybe another twenty minutes of riding, the wildflowers tapering off to tall grasses the closer they got to the stream. This time of year, the water's low and calm enough to easily walk the horses through. As they walk up the banks, the horses step through cattails, through the long, lace-shaped leaves and dusty-pink flowers of rose milkweed. The chokeberry bushes are practically dripping with heavy clusters of delicate white flowers-- might be a lot of berries this summer, if the animals don't get to them first.
They make it back to the ranch just before it starts getting truly dark-- the sun's still sinking low, but it's not quite so late that the horses would have trouble seeing where they're stepping. They rub down the horses and get them put away in their stalls, and Pegasus has been worked hard today, so Geralt gives him a little extra oats for his dinner. Just as a treat, for being good for the city boy.
Once Jaskier gets his things, Geralt walks him back up to the main road, where his ride can pick him up. He's going the same way, and it's best to make sure he doesn't get lost.
"We'll say it's seventy," he says, which is low-balling it, but it's fine. "Call it a first-time discount."
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His tone is mocking, but turns out, he actually keeps his word. Seeing as Geralt obviously isn't interested in chitchatting, Jaskier hums or sings the rest of the ride, only stopping to take the occasional picture or to talk to Pegasus himself. There's a comment here and there for Roach, as well. The place is absolutely beautiful, and it keeps Jaskier's attention enough not to be an annoying brat. The colors, the sounds, the aromas... it's the relaxing time he needed, and he can already fill inspiration coming to him with its needy claws that won't let go of his brain until he gets home and writes it all down.
He loves it. Hopefully one day he can arrange something to work here, just him, his guitar and a picnic blanket.
The buttercup is still behind his ear when they make it back to the ranch, and he plans to keep it there on the ride home (maybe he could press it inside one of his poetry books). Rubbing down the horses is quite nice and not something he used to do a lot when he was a child - it helps seeing the horse as an actual animal and companion and not just a ride he just got off from, bonding with him. Jaskier makes sure to give him some last nice parting words and a good pat on his neck together with a thank you, I'll see you soon. Others would probably try out different horses, but honestly, Jaskier is already sold on this one. He's made a friend today, and he's loyal to his friends until the end.
As soon as he picks his things up, Jaskier asks for an Uber before going to Geralt, knowing he'll have a small wait ahead of him. What he doesn't see coming, however, it's that price. Both his eyebrows quickly go up, disbelief written all over his face.
"What do I look like, a charity case?" Shaking his head, Jaskier reaches into his bag for his wallet (which is, of course, as extra as he is) and grabs two 100s. He folds them together, though, to hide one with the other, before handing them to Geralt. "Keep the change." As he closes his wallet, a little bright thing calls his attention: a transparent yellow pick. Grinning with an idea forming in his head, he hands it to Geralt as well. "And this is for your daughter. A thank you for her reccomendation."
A pause as Jaskier gives the man a look over. He's still annoyed by the comment about his voice, and yet... his curiosity (and attraction, obviously) remains. There's a mystery here and he wants to unravel it (as well as unraveling certain pair of pants).
"Old or not, you do have a phone, right?" He hands Geralt his own, the new contact screen open. "Give me your number so I can plan my visits in the future. That way I won't be around your daughter, too, just like I promised." It's a pity because he does like meeting the fans and getting attention, although on the other hand, it'd be nice to keep this as a calm, secret spot away from everything. He should leave it there, try to work things up through a couple of messages maybe, but he still can't stop his mouth from asking- "Do you have a favorite song?"
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And this is more of that... odd behavior, the kind of thing that he would assume is flirting if Jaskier had been a woman. Geralt doesn't usually give out his private number, not when he has a landline for the business; he ought to tell Jaskier to call that, like everyone else. It's not like he's special just because Pegasus likes him and he's odd and rides well and Geralt took him up for a private trail ride.
Geralt takes the phone from him with a huff and enters in his name and number. This is purely for Ciri's benefit, he thinks-- it's just to look out for her and make sure that she's kept well away from strange men. And, also, it's probably not great for his daughter to harass one of his customers, even if he is YouTube famous or whatever. Then, just as he hands the phone back, Jaskier asks him about his favorite song.
He considers the question for a moment, and replies, "Yeah."
Then he turns, gives him the kind of curt good-bye that he usually does when he leaves a conversation, and heads right back down to the barn to finish up his work for the day. He'd answered the musician's question, anyway-- he'd only asked if Geralt has a favorite song, not what that song is. Teach him to be specific.
Later that night, Ciri points out that he has a buttercup in his hair. After a bit of prodding, Geralt tells her why, and she's furious that he didn't let her know that the musician was there. After he had gone to bed, his daughter still pouting but a little mollified by the pick that the musician had left for her, he thought about Jaskier's hands and his carefree laugh and Geralt could still feel the spot where his fingers brushed his face.
A few days after the musician left, Geralt finally caves to the pressure and gets a damn smartphone. It has no buttons and it's got too many colorful icons and he barely knows how to work it, but at least he's able to keep the same phone number so he doesn't have to memorize a new one. He transfers all his contacts over, including Jaskier's. Would've been a convenient time to 'lose' it if he wanted to, but...
He keeps it. It's fine.
With Ciri's help, he sets up an Insta-whatsit, under the name KaerMorhenRanch. She helps him take a few nice scenic shots of the barn and grounds for the first posts, and also snaps one of him tacking up Roach. He's lifting the saddle onto her back, the muscles in his arms filling out the sleeves of his t-shirt. He thinks it isn't a particularly good one to post, since Roach isn't even entirely in the frame, but Ciri insists that it'll do well.
It does well. More people start following the Ranch. People also start leaving strange comments, sometimes just a series of incomprehensible emojis, but Geralt ignores that.
Geralt-- or the Ranch, rather-- starts following Jaskier. It's just so that he can scroll back through this guy's feed or whatever and see the kind of stuff that he posts, whether it's appropriate for his daughter to be watching. Ciri huffs when she realizes, still a little upset at him about the whole not telling her that her favorite musician was at the Ranch thing, but Geralt is undeterred. He spends an evening scrolling through all of the posts that Jaskier made, watching a few of his videos. It seems fine-- he swears a little, but there's nothing terribly inappropriate. And what fourteen-year-old hasn't heard fuck by now?
He finds the blond girl from Jaskier's lock screen in a few other photos, and reading the captions tells him that she's his sister. That's... well. That should be nothing, it shouldn't matter at all, but it does, kind of? Geralt decides not to think about it. Further back, he finds a picture of Jaskier with his shirt hiked up, revealing a colorful musical tattoo; a picture of him wearing a shirt saying things about phases of the moon; a series of posts from when he went to a Pride parade in London. He looks brilliantly happy, dressed in bright colors and grinning cheerfully at the camera, flags painted on his cheeks. He recognizes the colors of one of them from the sticker on his guitar case, and that's... another thing that shouldn't matter. Jaskier is a customer, his personal life isn't Geralt's business.
Jaskier's next cover that he puts up on his YouTube account-- because Geralt follows him there now, too, but from a more discreet gmail account-- is Stacey's Mom. Against his better judgement, Geralt posts a comment.
whitewolf 1 minute ago
cougars love a babyface
Is it immature? Yes. But who's going to judge him for one little immature comment?
Geralt really shouldn't enjoy all of this, though-- the YouTube channel, the Instagram, the text messages-- as much as he does in the following days, weeks. The messages should be all to the point, purely business, just Jaskier asking Geralt when Pegasus is available or when he could go up on the trails. It shouldn't be the musician asking him what he's doing and Geralt sending him back a picture of his boots immediately after Roach had shit on them. It's too friendly, too familiar.
He does it anyway.
got the afternoon free if you want to go up on the trail
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"Skurwysyn!"
Let the bastard guess what it means, hmph.
Funnily enough, Jaskier returns to his apartment feeling invigorated. Geralt's mean words aside, he's gotten exactly what he wanted: a day to relax, let the stress behind for an afternoon. He also got to look at a hot guy plus his number, which is a bonus. Even negative emotions are still emotions, and Jaskier is an emotional person - also an artist. He embraces all his feelings, welcomes them and makes them inspiration. Even his frustration at the man is better than being tired, which is the most blank and boring feeling.
He saves the little buttercup between the pages of a poetry book (I know you're bad for me and that I should go on without you, the poem says - he knows his subconscious knows exactly what it is doing when it chooses that one) and his next cover is Stacy's Mom. His sister tells him she's already buying wine for when this crush crashes and burns.
Sunday is spent finishing unpacking, but his mood is much better, especially when ranch daughter comments on his photos and thanks her for the pick and the promotion. He's glad to have made a fan happy with such a small gesture.
When Monday comes, he has the energy to go out and do some networking. It's a busy but very satisfying week. He gets to know the bars, the owners, puts out some signs for private music classes, walks in every music shop he can find. He flirts, he winks, he discusses music - he makes contacts. And friends! His hitting on a lovely blonde called Priscilla doesn't work as far as flirting in the Folk Music section goes, but they end up chatting anyway, and she introduces him to her friend Essi as well. They both recognize him and are happy to include him next time they go out - they're his kind of people, always eager to make new pals.
Come the weekend, Jaskier finally has dancing, drinking and an one night stand back in his life. Things are looking up.
During that whole time, though, he doesn't stop texting Geralt. The man is hard to talk to, but luckily for him, Jaskier is great at keeping one-sided conversations. The fact Geralt replies at all is a good sign, he decides - if the guy really didn't stand him, he would ignore him or even block him. Jaskier sends pictures, youtube links to music, random comments about his day, some ranting about the mother of the new kid he gets to teach guitar to, questions about setting up a bird feeder on his balcony (you know animals, right, Geralt?) or about markets in the city. It gets easier to chat with the man as day passes, and Jaskier is slowly learning he isn't actually mean, just a little shit.
Which he can't complain about, really, considering he's a brat.
Geralt has a very particular sense of humor, dry and sarcastic, and while there's a bunch of 'normal people topics' he doesn't give a damn about, when a subject does interest him (see: horses) he can be very eloquent. He's a secret softie, Jaskier is starting to read between the lines, especially for his daughter - who, by the way, has been nothing by a darling on social media, thanking Jaskier for the pick and the promotion. Speaking of social media...
Mr Old Time Ranch DILF gives in and buys a phone, also gets an Instagram. Jaskier teases him for it, feeling like they're slowly becoming friends (his new visits to the ranch as successful and fun as the first one, now he's even being charged properly! hooray!) that enjoy each other's company so he's earned the right to do so. He makes sure to be his first follower -not counting the daughter- and goes to all the ranch pictures he's already uploaded and makes sure to tag the business account.
He also masturbates to a picture of Geralt that shows off his muscles. Sue him.
The biggest surprise is, Geralt follows him back. So he HAS to know Jaskier is bisexual by now, right? He couldn't possibly have missed it. And yet there's no word from him in that matter. While Jaskier has learned that Geralt is like skittish deer (best approached carefully and slowly), it only means he has tuned down the flirting a little not to be overwhelming, it hasn't gone completely away. Yet Geralt doesn't flirt back, nor does he turn him down. It's just... there. Truly a mysterious man, and Jaskier wants to uncover the mystery even more now than the day they met, because Geralt is interesting and nice and Jaskier wants him around.
Thankfully, Destiny is slowly giving Jaskier the things he wants. First, he finally finds his first gig in the city, which has him doing a cute little dance around the apartment. He's already considering calling his new friends to go celebrate, but then second comes: Geralt tells him to visit the ranch. Woah.
Jaskier can't help to stare at the screen for a moment, smiling yet feeling torn - should he read too much into this? It could be simply a business thing, Jaskier always tries to leave a tip and makes good promotion with his pictures. On the other hand... well, he isn't an expert on Geralt, but he doesn't think this guy is the kind to make these kinds of offers. It does feel special. It may not be a date but... it's a sign, right? Geralt wants, at least, to hang out. Jaskier allows his grin to grow as he replies.
aww missing me already? 😏😊
I'd love to!
would it possible to stay longer this time? I'd love to watch the sunset as well 🌞
we could have picnic! 🥂
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His therapist says that this is how people make friends. Geralt doesn't exactly agree with him, but he doesn't hate the musician's presence around the barn. That's... enough, probably. He wouldn't call them friends, but he's... not bad. Acceptable.
figured i should have you down when you can't bother anyone else
get here around 3
if you want a picnic, bring something that works with fruit
Which isn't dissuading the picnic, really. It just means that Jaskier has to take the initiative, Geralt will go along with it.
It's getting into summer, and Geralt... well, usually he'd go up and pick wild berries with Ciri, but she's at her mother's for the next few weeks. So there's a lot of berries that need to be gathered or else they'll just get eaten by birds, and he might as well take Jaskier up to help, right? And it's not like he'll get nothing out of it, anyway, he'll get all the berries that he can carry home. He can make jam or something.
He's tacking up Roach when the musician arrives, lifting the saddle onto her back and tightening up the girth, his biceps straining against the confines of his shirt. He has baskets ready to attach to the saddle, to take up with them when they go up. Water and snacks in the saddlebags, though not anything particularly fancy-- nuts and trail mix, the kind of stuff that you pack in case someone starts getting hypoglycemic during a ride. Not exactly the stuff of
romanticplatonic picnics.He looks over his shoulder at Jaskier, then returns his attention to Roach.
"Pegasus could use the exercise," he says, which isn't much of a greeting, admittedly. But it's easy to talk about horses. "Had a lesson canceled."
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see you at three then! ✌
That's a yes on the picnic, then, and Geralt is even providing dessert. Jaskier grins widely at his screen - could this mean something? He won't let his hopes go up, not yet, but it's good to see things are progressing. This is another point on the 'he wants us to hang out' column.
After a nice shower, Jaskier chooses more casual, lighter clothes to fit the summer heat and the informality of a picnic. He ends up with a silly yet very cute t-shirt under an open red flannel shirt, his sunglasses hanging on the shirt's pocket, tight jeans as always. He already has a bottle of fine wine at home, so he puts it, a couple of glasses and a simple yellow tablecloth in his tote bag, which gets a little heavier when a box of finger sandwiches joins the previous items later. The guitar also comes, of course, can't leave his baby at home!
When he makes it to the ranch, he can't help staying against the door of the stables at first, admiring... well. The view. Geralt's muscles always flex just right whenever he's tacking up Roach - who cares about the trail, really, Jaskier could stay here and just watch ranch DILF tack up horses all day long.
(And maybe he could be tacked up for a ride too--)
Geralt has other plans though. Indeed, there's no greeting, but Jaskier doesn't mind. On the contrary, it makes him feel like a friend. There's no performative business welcome, just normal conversation, as if they had just been texting two seconds ago. Geralt probably doesn't mean it that way, Jaskier suspects - if there's something he's learned about the man in their interactions so far, it's that he has some issues socializing. But precisely because of that, he doubts any client can just show up in the stables like this. Another good sign.
"My trusted stallion, abandoned!" Jaskier exclaims with a hand on his chest. But being dramatic doesn't stop him from leaving aside his things for a moment to start working on his tacking up as well. "Don't worry, my new friend, you can always count on me. We shall have a lovely ride together, and you and Roach can graze while Geralt and I have our little picnic. Right, Geralt?" He turns to the man with his head tilted. "What was it you mentioned about fruit anyway? Can we share those with the horses?"
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Jaskier has his dramatic moment, talking to Pegasus as though the animal could actually understand him, hand clasped to his chest. Geralt huffs as he finishes tightening up the girth, ignoring the way that Roach smacks him with her tail to show her displeasure. Too bad, horse-- the girth is mandatory, Geralt's not riding bareback all the way up the damn trail just because his horse doesn't like a strap around her belly.
The musician eventually quits his theatrics and gets around to tacking up, which is good because Geralt doesn't plan on waiting around all day. He even asks a question that's actually thoughtful and relevant, which is really a first. Geralt might think that he's learning, but he knows Jaskier well enough by this point to know he's not.
Might as well share the whole purpose of this outing, anyway. And the reason why he wants another pair of hands along.
"Fruit's fine, but only a little. Too much sugar."
It would be bad for their teeth, just like for people. But people could goddamn brush and go to a dentist, and Geralt didn't care about Jaskier's dental hygiene. He could eat sugar 'til his teeth all fall out of his head if he wants to. Geralt takes Roach's bridle and starts leading her out of the barn, assuming that Jaskier will follow.
"Wild berries grow well up around the mountain," he says. "Should be getting ripe right around now. We'll want to get at it before the animals do."
As tempting as the bounty is to humans, it's just as much to animals. But there's usually plenty to go around; when he'd brought Ciri up last year, they'd been able to eat their fill and still gather all the berries that they could carry down. This year-- well, they'd probably get less, because Geralt's pretty certain that his daughter could carry more weight than this whole-ass adult man.
With that explanation, he swings himself into the saddle and starts heading up the trail, along the scenic route that Jaskier might recognize from his last excursion up into the hills.
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And following him he does... at first. After hearing Geralt's explanation, Jaskier can't help freezing, staring at the guy ahead of him with wide eyes. He wants to believe Geralt is slowly accepting the fact they're becoming friends, that's why he got the message, right? But this? Feels like so much more. He could've picked the berries with anyone - his daughter, especially. Alone, even, just he and his horse against nature. Isn't that what Geralt likes?
Geralt getting on the horse and riding away is what makes him snap out of it. Jaskier hurries to get on Pegasus as well, making his horse going a bit faster than a simple trot to catch up with his friend, side by side, and look directly at his face when he asks his question. Because what the fuck does it mean.
"Sooooo, let me see if I'm getting this right. We're having a picnic and going berry picking together? You saved this little activity to do with me, your new friend?" Once again, he puts a hand on his chest. "Geralt, I'm touched! You do care!"
A little overdramatic, probably, but he has to compensate somehow. Because what he's actually dying to ask right now is is this a date?.
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Sometimes, berry picking is just berry picking, and you shouldn't read too much into it.
(Sometimes, as a certain discredited Austrian psychologist might have said, a cigar is just a cigar. But sometimes it's a cock.)
"Friend is a strong word," he replies to Jaskier's histrionics. He's making a lot out of this, and out of their... acquaintance. Geralt had mentioned the other man during his therapy session, just in passing, and his therapist had made a whole deal about it, too. Something about how this is how people make friends, but she'd dropped the subject after Geralt had insisted that they aren't friends, he's just a customer who has his private phone number and hangs around the ranch a lot and sometimes sends him cat videos. As not-friends do.
"But, yes, we're going to pick berries. I would take Ciri, but she's at her mother's."
And he could have done it himself, but... well, he can get more with another pair of hands. Eskel might have agreed to help him, but he's been busy, and Geralt wouldn't have even bothered to ask Lambert. So, strange hipster musician it is.
It's a good day for it, and a good day for a ride, at least-- warm but not oppressively hot, with enough big, puffy cumulus clouds overhead to provide occasional relief from the sun. Jaskier will get plenty of that natural beauty or whatever it is that he comes out here for.
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"Oh, really? We're not using the word friends now?"
The times they've done trail riding so far, Jaskier had followed Geralt around. This is a wake-up all, though, so he doesn't return to his usual spot, he stays riding side by side, the dark tones of Geralt and Roach against the light colors of Pegasus and him. It's poetic, really, and he'll appreciate it better later when isn't being completed offended by this asshole. Knowing to trust his lovely white partner by now, Jaskier grabs the reins with only one hand in order to use the other one to gesture between them, indicating their relationship. Obviously.
"So you usually just chat with any client of yours through texts, send them pictures of what your horse did to your boots and save for them special activities you'd usually do with your precious daughter?" When Geralt glares at him as an answer, Jaskier snorts and goes back to looking at the natural beauty around them, keeping an incredibly smug look on his face. "Yeah, that's what I thought." But after a short pause, he softens into a kind smile. "But thank you. It sounds like fun."
And he means it. Date illusions aside, he does enjoy Geralt's company, even as a friend. If the man just happens to need a little pushing to get there, well, Jaskier will gladly be that pusher.
The weather is perfect for a picnic and a nice ride, and Jaskier can't wait to sit down, relax, drink some wine and take a couple of pictures. Maybe one with Geralt? If he promises not to post it to his social media, maybe he can get him to agree to the idea instead of having to snap one before the guy growls at him.
Something else is in his mind at this very moment, though. Something Geralt said. Jaskier glances at him a couple of times before finally deciding to just go for it, to hell with precautions.
"You don't mention her much - Ciri's mother, I mean. Are you divorced, Geralt?"
A nice way of asking or is she the consequences of a one night stand without protection.
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Geralt doesn't make any verbal reply to Jaskier's accusations of friendship, instead just grumbling and squeezing Roach into a faster trot.
There are a few blessed minutes of quiet, where the only sounds are the trilling birdsong in the trees and the sound of wind through foliage. It really is a lovely day for a ride, and better when he can actually fucking enjoy it, when he can focus on the trail ahead of him and pretend that it's just him and Roach, making their way up to the meadows--
Jaskier speaks. Geralt beseeches the uncaring gods for strength.
"If I was divorced, I'd be getting alimony," he says, because gods know that Yen makes more than he does every year. Probably several times over, he never asked but she's got that fancy brownstone in the city that she lives in, and all those designer clothes. Geralt sure as fuck didn't buy them for her.
He looks sidelong at the musician, as though trying to discern why he'd suddenly have an interest in his... ex-girlfriend? Baby mama? Yen would kill him for even thinking that term.
"She'd eat you alive."
Also, he's not setting up one of his customers with his daughter's mother. Both because Yen doesn't need his help with her love life, and also because she would eat this musical otter for breakfast and move on to another man by lunch. Geralt's not dealing with the fallout from that.
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She'd eat you alive? What does that even mean? Frowning, Jaskier tilts his head at Geralt, trying to figure out where that random statement even comes from. He's asking about Geralt's relationship with his ex as conversation, not trying to set-up some sort of meeting... oh. No fucking way.
"...bloody hell. You think I want to date her? What the fuck, Geralt!"
Jaskier throws his free hand in the air, obviously exasperated. He knows he's a bit of a slut (a bit?) and he isn't sure if Geralt has caught up on that yet, but still: rude. He's not that constantly horny, he can still have basic conversations! (No, really.)
"First of all, I don't need your help to find dates. I've already had a taste of American meat, thank you very much. But most importantly: what the fuck!" Has he already said that? Oh well, it deserves to be repeated. "How can you think I'm seriously asking you to set me up with your ex! I'm just trying to learn more about you, Geralt. You know, as friends do."
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Then Jaskier opens his mouth again and he's reminded of all the ways that Yen would probably hate him. That's probably for the best. The musician even says the words American meat and Geralt's fairly certain that he hates him for that, too. The glare that he levels at him would certainly indicate as such.
"Hm." He knows that Jaskier hates it when he only grunts in reply-- it'd be a lie if he said that reaction isn't part of why he does it. And, really, who's Jaskier trying to fool? To learn more about you, what a load of shit. People want to learn about him because he looks a certain way, like something they want, and then they find out about the ex-con thing and that his grunts and general lack of communication aren't just him trying to be mysterious or some horseshit, he really just is like that, and their desire to learn abruptly cuts off.
"Friend's still a strong word."
Geralt doesn't really have friends. He has brothers, and a daughter, and an ex that he's on reasonably good terms with, barring a couple of occasions in the past when he'd been trying to get his shit together and hadn't quite let go of the idea that Yen might be the answer to everything. He doesn't need friends. He's only just figured out how to manage the relationships that he already has.
But they're nearing the meadows, and that will be the perfect opportunity to switch from this nightmare conversation into the blissful distraction of physical labor. Can't talk when you're keeping your hands busy with berry-picking, right?
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"I believe we just went over the facts, Mister Loner, and the only obvious conclusion to this-" He points between them. "-is friendship."
Geralt is dismissive of this once again, and Jaskier is ready to start puffing up like a blowfish, but the meadows soon come into view and with them the berry bushes. There's a bigger variety than he expected: strawberries, blueberries, honeyberries, and even salmonberries. It's a wonderful party of colors, and of course he needs to take a picture before they get down to business.
The horses are left grazing and for once, Jaskier stays silent while Geralt teaches him the basics. It can be tempting to stay in constant motion, but it's better and more efficient to stay in one spot, taking the time to really look under leaves or at the tops and bottoms of bushes before moving on. Will save him energy, he says, as if Jaskier wasn't a constant ball of it. No need to pick an entire cluster, only choose the ripe berries from the group, they should easily fall off the stems. Avoid berries from a broken branch, and go to the top of bushes for the sweetest fruit since they're usually sun-ripened.
Pretty simple instructions, Jaskier thinks, and he's very pleased by this turn of events. Because if he doesn't have to pay tons of attention to little details, then it means he can continue to chat with Mr DILF while they work. No, Geralt, physical labor won't shut the blabbermouth up. Sorry.
"What do you have against the word friends anyway?" He asks while working on a decent pile of honeyberries and being internally grateful he decided to take his hat from his tote bag and put it on before starting. The sun is definitely warming them pretty heavily as they stand next to the bushes. "Does it ruin your Brooding Lone Wolf image or something? Because let me tell you, mate, that shipped sailed and sunk the moment you started replying to my texts."
He already used that argument, he knows, but he can't let this go. There's something weird going on and he wants to reach the bottom of it! They day they met, he classified Geralt as a mystery, and he is now realizing how accurate that had been. Who invites someone to go berry picking if they are not friends and it's not a job obligation? It doesn't make sense.
"Is your ex a touchy topic I shouldn't have gone into? If so, sorry. But you can just tell me so."
While waiting for an answer, Jaskier gives in to temptation and picks one of the strawberries in his basket to nibble on it. It's sweet and juicy, simply delicious, and he hums with lips around the fruit to show his appreciation of it.
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If only it meant that he would shut up for a little while.
While Geralt digs his way through the tangled mass of a blueberry bush, searching for the best berries while also trying to avoid getting stung by bees, Jaskier continues to chatter. It's a wonder that the man doesn't swallow a bug with how much he has his damn mouth open, though Geralt almost wishes that he would-- it would teach him a valuable lesson.
Geralt only grunts in response to the friends question, not deigning it with a verbal reply. He knew that he shouldn't have given the musician his personal phone number, and now it's coming back to bite him right in the ass. If he'd just told the guy to call him on the landline, they would've been able to avoid this whole stupid friends business. And, besides, responding once or twice to a cat meme with 'cute' or, on one occasion, 'what the fuck am i looking at' does not a friendship make.
He emerges briefly from the blueberry bush to swat a few bees off of his arms. He's been stung once or twice in the process, and uses the edge of his thumbnail to scrape the stingers out of his skin. Jaskier asks about Yen, but not for information about her-- just to know if she's something he can't talk about.
"There's nothing to go into," he replies. "She's Ciri's mother. That's it."
It's at that point that Geralt looks up, just in time to see Jaskier snacking on some of the wild strawberries. The strawberries have done well this year, full and ripe and sweet, and when he bites into the flesh, his lips are wet and shiny with juice. Geralt has the sudden odd urge to find out what the strawberries taste like, and realizes probably a moment too late that he's staring at Jaskier's mouth. He turns away, back to the bush, and goes back to his blueberry hunt out of the need to have his hands doing something. Otherwise, he isn't... entirely sure what he might do with them.
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No fucking way.
Is this really happening? Is he reading this correctly? Is it actual progress? Eager to test his theory and with his heart beating a little faster than usual, Jaskier finishes the rest of the strawberry in one bite, then proceeds to very slowly lick his lips while trying to make eye contact.
Geralt just turns and leaves.
Bollocks. Has he made him uncomfortable? But is it in a good way or a bad way? Why is this guy so hard to read, for fuck's sake! Thankfully Jaskier is nothing but stubborn, so he quickly follows Geralt into the bushes, grabbing a couple of honeyberries on the way. He doesn't go back to picking yet - in fact he hurries to end up ahead of Geralt on the path, walking backwards so there's no way Mr DILF can miss his little show.
"You know, Geralt..." This grin? Could put Cheshire's to shame. "You still haven't told me your favorite song."
A bit of a lame question, really. His quest to get to know Geralt better isn't over yet, but right now his goal has changed: conversation is just an excuse to stay in front of the man, blue eyes locked on golden as he takes the honeyberry to his mouth and fucking suckles. After two seconds though, he bites on it, pretending it was an accidental brush of his teeth when it fact he knows exactly what he is doing: letting the berry juice drip down the corner of his mouth.
"Oops." He says after swallowing the berry with a quick swipe of this tongue. A thumb reaches up to clean the juice drip on his face and, of course, he sucks it clean then, letting go of it with an audible pop.
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And he's got a handful of honeyberries, ones that have been on the bush for long enough that they're almost overripe, plump and practically popping with juice. Jaskier asks him a question but Geralt barely even registers the words, because he has taken one of the berries to his lips and is practically fellating it. He has a clever mouth, and that would make sense in the sort of abstract academic way of assuming that being a vocalist would require skill in mouth-related subjects. It's far different to see it demonstrated in this way, like the difference between knowing someone's good at tongue-twisters and watching them tie a knot in a cherry stem with their tongue.
It still shouldn't matter, because Jaskier is a man and the oral dexterity of men isn't something that's in Geralt's purview. Jaskier's oral dexterity is extremely distracting.
"Hm."
That doesn't answer the question and there's maybe a bit of a choked edge to that grunt, but Geralt smoothly and effectively covers that up by walking off the path and directly into the dense foliage that grows next to it, going into it far enough that the path was out of sight. Because pushing his way into the middle of a bunch of berry bushes until he can't see Jaskier anymore is a completely reasonable response to this situation.
There are berries all around him. He starts picking them, and it's a relief to have something to do with his hands that does not, in any way, involve a foppish musician who can't seem to do his shirt up all the way.
Geralt takes out his phone and types a short message to Lambert. He needs to get laid, apparently fucking yesterday, and Lambert might be a shit wingman but every other man in the bar looks better by comparison, so his presence isn't entirely unhelpful. So he'll just pick some woman up at the bar, fuck her until he stops feeling weird, and then everything would be fine. Totally solid plan.
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AND WHY IS THIS MAN SO HARD TO READ! Never has Jaskier had this much trouble flirting.
Ignoring the berries for now, Jaskier hurries down the path once more, blue eyes fixed on the man ahead of him with all the determination of the world (although the pouting kills the determined face, to be fair). Which only serves to fullfil Geralt's prophecy: Jaskier doesn't see the rock before he steps on it and, obviously, trips...
Just as Geralt is turning around...
Taking him down with him on the dirt.
Baskets and berries fly and land all over the grass as Jaskier squeals in surprise, expecting his clothes to get ruined and his face to get smashed... but no pain comes. In fact, he feels... comfy? Jaskier blinks a couple of times as his mind chases confusion away, and his eyes can only widen when he realizes what -or more exactly who- has cushioned his fall.
"...oops."
He should say something else. Apologize - move away, even. But see, he's a little-- ah. Distracted at the moment. His hands are finally getting to confirm how hard those abs are, and his chin is finding out that chest is indeed as cozy as it looks. Geralt feels as amazing as he looks, and Jaskier has to pray to a god he doesn't believe in for a little miracle and not get a boner out of this.
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Oops, Jaskier says, like this is all just a harmless little accident and Geralt isn't going to have a goose egg on the back of his head. Meanwhile, his face is right between Geralt's tits and his hands are getting a little fresh with his torso. Most people would get off after falling on someone, but not Jaskier-- apparently, he takes the opportunity to get a good feel of people's abs. Well, too bad for him, there are no soft curves or big breasts for him to feel up, just hard muscle.
Geralt grabs the musician by the back of the collar of his shirt and pulls him off, since he seems a bit disinclined to do it himself.
"Jaskier," he says, his voice dipping into that nearly growling range that usually sends folks running in the opposite direction. "Stay on the path if you're just going to fall all over yourself."
Then he gets up and retrieves the fallen basket, trying to salvage as much of the berries as possible.
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-oh.
Ooooooh.
Fuck.
It's not easy to embarrass Jaskier - the man is quite shameless. And to be fair, it's not quite embarrassment that gets his cheeks red and his throat dry. No, it's the fact that Geralt is as strong as he looks. It's the fact he can move him as if he weighed nothing at all. It's the fact his name is said with that growl that sends a shiver down his spine, the fact he just got to feel his boobs, plus the summer sun above them, it's--
It's... a very bad case of blue balls.
Double fuck.
Geralt continues to work, but Jaskier needs a moment. Face flushed and mouth hanging open, he stays sitting on the ground, trying to put himself together. When he finally moves, it's to take off his hat and fan himself with it. Honestly, the fact he doesn't have a boner right now is a huge fucking miracle - and experience, probably, because Jaskier is used to finding pretty people everywhere. He has been training his body since his hormones brought puberty home.
And yet... this DILF is going to be the end of him.
For a moment he considers the option of opening the bottle of wine in his tote bag, but that would only make him more pathetic. So the hat returns to his head before Jaskier crawls until he's next to Geralt and starts helping him pick up the fallen berries.
"I'm sorry," he offers with a much calmer voice. There's no dramatics, just honesty. He knows when his flirting fucks up, and this definitely counts as fucking up. "I didn't mean to make a mess of things. I just-" Really like you. "-I'm really excited to be here. I always am, but especially today because you invited me. It's nice."
It's fantastic, amazing, it makes him smile! But gotta take it a bit slower, he's already pushed Geralt enough for today.
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It's fine; he's used to that kind of reaction. He knows what he looks like. Between his muscles and his strange hair and what could be charitably called a resting bitch face, it's not surprising that most normal people look at him and think he's a brute. It's not surprising that Jaskier does. It doesn't bother him.
After a few moments, Jaskier returns to his side to help pick up the berries, his ridiculous hat back in place on his head and voice calm again. He apologizes, which at least does a little to soothe the fact that Geralt's dusty and will probably have to pick at least one tick out of his hair at this rate. Geralt's skeptical about the excited to be here part, because who would really be that excited to go up a mountain with a weird horse man and do physical labor? But Geralt had-- something. Not wanted to do this alone, maybe. The past few years that he'd come up here, it had been with Ciri, and even if he does wish that she could be here with him now, Yen had wanted to take her on a trip. Who was he to deny her that?
"Hm."
Most of the berries are still fine and can go back in the basket. Jaskier will, if nothing else, at least get something out of this venture-- more berries than he'll likely know what to do with.
"Just be more careful. I don't want to have to drag you back down the mountain if you break an ankle."
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What can he say? He likes a challenge. There's also the fact that, while being incredibly frustrating, Geralt is also... well, honest. Jaskier knows that what he sees it's what he gets, there's no trying to navigate second meanings behind words and actions. It's refreshing, really.
Like right now - Geralt should be mad at him. And yet...
"But you'd do it anyway. My hero!"
He playfully nudges Geralt before going back to picking up berries from the ground. There's a lot of them, and they still have some bushes to go - what the hell is he going to do with so many berries? He isn't sure, but he isn't going to say no to such a gift from Geralt, even if technically he doesn't see it as such.
"Speaking of invitations and being excited..." His voice picks up enthusiasm again - and pride as well. "I've finally gotten my first gig in the city. Next Saturday! It's at night, a place for adults, so at least half of my fans can't come." He sounds amused by that, but it's also his way of subtly letting Geralt know that isn't about Cirilla. "I'd love it if you could come."
And he means it. Hopefully Geralt can see that was well.
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That's definitely another grunt, because while he's not wrong-- Geralt would carry him down the goddamn mountain if he had to, even if he wouldn't like it-- he doesn't like that Jaskier has him pegged so well. He would have to, he couldn't just leave him with a broken ankle or something on the mountain, the idiot would get eaten by a coyote or a mountain lion before the night was up. And Geralt's not going back to prison for that kind of stupidity.
Thankfully, Jaskier changes the subject all on his own, going from Geralt's unfortunate weakness for a sob story to the first gig that he's gotten in the city. Apparently he'd managed to score a spot at a bar, someplace that someone like Ciri couldn't go to. Which must have been a bit of a hindrance, considering that his target audience is generally too young to drink, and therefore couldn't go into the venue. Not exactly the best choice. Geralt huffs-- figures, that this guy would end up getting a gig at a place where half his audience couldn't even go in, but who could blame him for taking something that paid?
"Trying to pad out your audience?" he asks, because why else would Jaskier ask him to come? He's probably telling literally everyone he knows, just on the off-chance that someone would take pity and show up.
But-- next Saturday. Geralt knows that he doesn't have anything going on, and his brothers have been up his ass about not doing social things. And by the time that Saturday rolls around, he'll have already gotten laid and gotten over whatever this particular bullshit is, so everything will be fine. He'll pick up some woman, fuck her until he feels normal again, and then he'll go to Jaskier's damn show because of perfectly normal non-friendship reasons.
"Farrier might be coming that day, I'll have to see."
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