I just needed to write some Geraskier softness… Please enjoy 💕
Geralt made his way down the icy sidewalk as the wind bit at his ears and sharp snowflakes stung his face. He juggled the bulky bags of groceries in his arms and scowled. Jaskier and his fucking juicing.
“Ooh, are you swinging by the shop on your way home today?” Jaskier had asked that morning, batting his eyelashes.
“Hmm,” Geralt frowned in return. Jaskier knew damn well had used the last of the cream in his coffee that morning.
“Wonderful! Could you be a darling and pick me up some more celery and kale? And beets? And maybe some carrots?”
“It’s just that I won’t have time. My callback audition is right after work…” Jaskier buzzed around the kitchen looking for his keys until he found them in the fruit bowl. “Thanks, you’re the best, roomie!” Jaskier squeezed Geralt’s arm and planted a kiss on his cheek before breezing out the door in a cloud of cologne and optimism.
Geralt felt his cheeks flush. This kissing thing was new. Jaskier had been his roommate for four months now, and he had always been tactile and platonically affectionate, rubbing Geralt’s shoulder when saying goodnight, or resting a hand lightly on his hip to get by in the kitchen, but this was the third time he had casually kissed him.
The first time had been a month ago, on Geralt’s birthday. Jaskier had followed up the birthday hug with a kiss on the cheek. Geralt had been surprised and flustered, but he supposed it was not that unusual on someone’s birthday.
The second time was when Geralt wasn’t feeling well. He had been lying on the couch under a blanket, and Jaskier had offered to get him some ginger ale. The next thing he knew, Jaskier’s cool hand was on his forehead, and then his soft lips were gently pressed to his hair.
And now a kiss for picking up some groceries for him… He supposed Jaskier was just getting comfortable with him. Further evidence — Jaskier had started walking around in his underwear. Geralt was trying hard not to stare… he was really just respectfully admiring the work Jaskier must have put into his long, lean body…
But Jaskier was also a bit of a disaster — constantly in a state of panic, always about to be late for something, leaving his sheet music and guitar picks absolutely everywhere, and apparently incapable of removing his clothes from the washer in any sort of timely fashion. He was also terrible at planning ahead, and now here Geralt was, in the dead of winter, juggling an armload of vegetables through a burgeoning snowstorm — vegetables whose rinds and stems Jaskier would happily let sit on the counter for weeks.
Geralt fumbled with his keys to open the front door and stopped with a jolt when he saw Jaskier sitting on the couch in the darkness.
Geralt flipped the light on and felt his stomach drop when he saw Jaskier’s face. “What’s wrong?” he asked, hastily setting the groceries down and hurrying over to the miserable form huddled against the soft cushions.
Jaskier looked up at him with huge, wet eyes. “They cancelled my callback,” he sniffled.
Great sank down next to him. “Oh, Jask… I’m sorry.” He awkwardly put an arm around Jaskier’s shoulders.
“They said they were going in another direction.” He turned and rested his head on Geralt’s shoulder with a hiccupping breath.
Jaskier’s hair tickled Geralt’s cheek. He put his other arm around Jaskier and let the man’s warm weight settle on him.
Then Jaskier took a deep breath and melted even further onto Geralt’s chest. His tongue frozen, Geralt just held him a little tighter.
They were quiet for a minute and Geralt let Jaskier’s scent wash over him. Still a trace of his cologne from the morning — spicy pepper and citrusy lemon with notes of orange blossom — but also the rich aroma of coffee beans from work, and something else warm and inviting.
The wetness of a tear trickled down Geralt’s neck. “Shhh,” he found himself saying, his hands circling Jaskier’s back.
Jaskier sniffled again, and Geralt felt arms sliding around him.
“Why doesn’t anyone want me, Geralt?” Jaskier asked in a small voice. Geralt felt a wave of anger rolling over him. The kind of anger that made him want to kick down a door and demand to know who exactly had made this sweet, talented, gentle man cry.
But he closed his eyes and breathed in Jaskier again. “Fuck ‘em,” Geralt rumbled, his lips so close to Jaskier’s neck. “If someone doesn’t want you, they’re an idiot.”
Jaskier sat up a little and pulled back to look at Geralt, arms still around him. They were only inches apart. “Do you mean that?” His bright blue eyes searched Geralt’s.
Geralt felt a stab of realization in his chest. Because he really did fucking mean that. He leaned forward and let his lips touch Jaskier’s. Jaskier gasped softly and Geralt wondered for a split second if he’d made a mistake, but then Jaskier’s hand was threading through his hair and he was kissing him back. Fervently.
Geralt groaned and pulled Jaskier right onto his lap. He held tight onto him, one hand grabbing his ass to pull him closer, the other sliding up under his rumpled t-shirt. Jaskier sighed happily into Geralt’s mouth and his hand cupped Geralt’s cheek.
They finally broke apart, panting, just when Geralt was starting to feel truly dizzy.
Jaskier’s eyes were shining. “Do you want me, Geralt?” he whispered, fingertips leaving a trail of goosebumps down Geralt’s neck.
Geralt licked his swollen lips. “Yes,” he said simply, and took Jaskier’s mouth with his own again.
“Good,” Jaskier breathed as Geralt’s lips found their way to his neck. “Guess I have to thank those assholes now.”
Geralt nuzzled at his jaw. “Hmm… thank them for me too.”
Geralt tasted Jaskier’s laughter as their lips met again.
His coffee cream would spoil. Worth it.
