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Later, Jaskier asked himself if he ought to have noticed something. Perhaps Geralt had said something Jaskier had missed, or perhaps there had been an accidental touch of bare skin when they had been taking a bath together. Perhaps Jaskier had talked in his sleep. Apparently, he talked dirty when he was unconscious. His mother had always told him that would get him killed one day. It hadn’t gotten him killed yet, but there was a possibility that it had gotten him a boyfriend.
Well, not a real boyfriend. It was all just a big misunderstanding. Not that Jaskier couldn’t imagine having a romantic affair with a man, because he could, and he had. But not with Geralt. Geralt was his best friend.
So, he was a little confused when they arrived in another little village, and the innkeeper looked at them with narrowed eyes and told them not to be too loud about it.
“About what?” Jaskier asked. Maybe the innkeeper meant Jaskier’s songs, but that was just impossible, because everyone loved Jaskier’s songs.
“We’ll be as loud as we like,” Geralt said, grabbed Jaskier’s arm and pulled him to upstairs, where they had a nice room with a fire and one bed. Jaskier sat down on the edge of the bed and thought about asking Geralt what the innkeeper could possibly have meant, but Geralt was already taking off his clothes, so Jaskier kind of got distracted. And people always were weird around Geralt. That was the way it was.
The next day, they woke up in the bed, Jaskier went to the breakfast, and Geralt went to slay a monster. When he got back, he had a nasty-looking cut on his cheek and he was in a bad mood, probably afraid of losing his good looks. Jaskier cleaned the cut and that seemed to cheer Geralt up a little. He drew Geralt a bath and then combed Geralt’s hair afterwards, and Geralt sighed in his hands and closed his eyes for almost a minute. It would have made a great song, but then other people might have gotten ideas about touching Geralt’s hair, and Jaskier didn’t want that. He patted Geralt on the shoulder and let his hand linger for a second, and then he told Geralt to get dressed. He wanted a pint of ale.
In the tavern, there were two ladies who caught Jaskier’s eye. He sat in a table with Geralt, nodded to Geralt’s grunts but kept watching the ladies over his ale, and maybe winked a few times. He was a very smooth flirter, and an expert of matters of heart, so he wasn’t surprised at all when the ladies approached him with nice little smiles and sharp clever eyes. What he was surprised about was that Geralt got up, crossed his arms over his chest and told the ladies that Jaskier was with him.
“What?” the ladies said.
“What?” Jaskier said.
“Yes,” Geralt said. “So, go on. Go find someone else to have your fun with. You wouldn’t want him, anyway. He snores.”
Jaskier pointed his finger at Geralt and tried to say something, because firstly, he didn’t snore, and secondly, it was completely unforgivable that Geralt told his intimate secrets to women he wanted to sleep with. He would have never done that to Geralt. He put Geralt’s intimate secrets into songs and sang them everywhere, which was much more discreet. But he couldn’t find words to express any of this until the ladies had retreated and Geralt was sitting down again, only this time he was at the same side of the table than Jaskier, sharing a bench, and his arm wrapped around Jaskier’s shoulder.
Jaskier cleared his throat. Geralt’s fingers stroked his right arm and Geralt’s warm and fit and generally very enjoyable body was pressed against his left side, and he had trouble drinking his ale or catching his thoughts, neither one of which never happened to him. There was something going on that he didn’t understand, and he hated that. He didn’t hate the weight of Geralt’s arm on his shoulders, though. It was quite nice. And Geralt smelled of adventure and danger like he always did, and even though Jaskier knew these days that it was a tasteful combination of horse, sweat and onion, that didn’t lessen the charm.
“Geralt,” he said. His voice sounded thinner than he had anticipated, but then again, Geralt was kind of squeezing him against his side.
“Jaskier?” Geralt said.
Jaskier smiled. It had taken some time for Geralt to learn to call him by his name instead of you there. He liked the way Geralt said his name. And then he remembered he was supposed ask Geralt what Geralt had meant when he had said that Jaskier was with him. Everyone knew Jaskier was with him. Jaskier had travelled with him for over a year now and had made plenty of songs about it, several of which emphasized the fondness Geralt had for him. He was Geralt’s best and probably only friend, unless you didn’t count Roach. What a saint of a horse, to put up with all Geralt’s nonsense. But none of that meant that Jaskier wouldn’t have wanted to sleep with one of those women that had almost talked to him tonight. Or both, preferably.
He opened his mouth. Then he closed it again. He hated it when he didn’t know what was going on, and he especially hated pointing that out.
“I would like another ale,” he said instead.
“I’ll get you one,” Geralt said and stood up. It was like a weight was lifted from Jaskier’s shoulders, but not in a good way. It was nice to see Geralt walking through the room, though. He was wearing those trousers that were tight around his ass, the trousers he hated and Jaskier loved. Jaskier tilted his head to the side and watched as Geralt ordered an ale and, seemingly, threw a few glances at the ladies who had approached Jaskier. Well, maybe Geralt had caught a flu. Or a curse. That would have explained it.
**
Geralt didn’t have a headache. Jaskier asked him about that for at least four times after Geralt had grabbed his hand and held it for an hour late that night, after three more ales and one attempt of a beautiful woman trying to talk to Jaskier. This time Geralt had scowled at the woman, and Jaskier had called his name in his most pleading tone but that hadn’t stopped the scowling. Jaskier didn’t feel too bad about losing the chance to sleep with the woman, because admittedly it had been very nice to have Geralt holding his hand for so long. But he was confused.
“What about a curse?” he asked in a low voice. If it was a curse, Geralt wouldn’t want anyone to know about it. Jaskier would make a song out of it, of course, but only later. And it would be a subtle song, like all of his songs were. “Are you under a curse? Is that why you’re acting weird?”
Geralt glanced at him like he was being stupid. He swallowed. He didn’t want to seem stupid. But something was going on and he wanted to know what that was.
“Geralt? Are you sick?”
“Of course not,” Geralt said with a scowl. Then his expression softened. “I’m not sick. Don’t worry.”
“I’m not worrying,” Jaskier said, “it’s just that… you held my hand.”
Geralt blinked. “You combed my hair.”
“Yes,” Jaskier said, “but you held my hand.”
“You washed my back and cut my toenails.”
“I –,” Jaskier began and then took a deep breath. Very well, he had cut Geralt’s toenails. They had been too long and Geralt wasn’t a very flexible man. But that didn’t have anything to do with this. “Why did you hold my hand just now?”
“I thought you liked it,” Geralt said.
Jaskier sighed. “Of course I liked it. But you never do things only because I like them.”
“I do,” Geralt said, “all the time.”
“No, you -,“ Jaskier said and then thought about it. Well, Geralt had done a lot of thing Jaskier liked lately, sometimes after Jaskier asked and sometimes before. He had thought those had been accidents. “Maybe you’re right.”
“Of course I’m right,” Geralt said, looking like he was trying not to look like he was very happy about himself.
Jaskier put his hand on Geralt’s thigh under the table, just to make Geralt listen. “That’s not the point, Geralt. You’re my friend. Of course you do nice things for me. But this…”
“I’m not your friend,” Geralt said.
Jaskier blinked. Well, that wasn’t exactly new. Geralt had said that for many times and Jaskier had ignored it just as many times. But that had been a long time ago. He had kind of thought they were over it, and really, he was a little tired of Geralt pretending not to see what they meant to each other. “Really?”
“I’m your boyfriend,” Geralt said.
Jaskier stared at him.
He smiled at Jaskier and then took Jaskier’s pint of ale and emptied it. Then he put his arm around Jaskier’s shoulders again.
“Maybe we should get back to our room,” he said to Jaskier. “You look tired.”
Jaskier cleared his throat and tried to speak but nothing came out, and besides, Geralt was already pulling him onto his feet. Well, that was… that was… that was a lot. That was a lot to think about. And he had had a long day eating breakfast and combing Geralt’s hair, and Geralt was kind of holding his hand again, and it felt nice, and he really couldn’t start thinking about all that now.
He let Geralt take him to their room and help him undress and put a blanket on them in the bed. Then he listened to Geralt’s steady breathing and tried not to think about it.
A boyfriend?
**
Jaskier wasn’t an idiot or anything. Now that he knew what was going on in Geralt’s head, he started seeing subtle signs of it everywhere, like for example when Geralt asked him to lace his trousers for him the next morning. Jaskier stood in front of Geralt and did the laces, and Geralt’s breathing was warm on his forehead and Geralt’s hand steady on his shoulder that Geralt had grabbed probably for support. And then he realized that Geralt was groping his shoulder and breathing on his head and that Geralt had probably never needed physical support in his life and wouldn’t even when he’d be in a coffin one very distant day. He was the strongest person Jaskier had ever met. And the best. But that was completely besides the point now. It was clear that Geralt thought they were dating, and Jaskier just had missed that somehow. He fastened Geralt’s trousers, patted Geralt on the stomach and then sat down on their bed, wondering how the hell it had happened that he had given Geralt the wrong idea.
The more urgent question, though, was how he would fix it.
“Geralt?” he started.
“Yes?” Geralt said, turning to him. There was this look in his eyes that suggested he would gladly do anything he could for Jaskier.
Jaskier cleared his throat. “I need to tell you something.”
“Fine.”
“I…” He blinked. No one but Geralt had looked at him like that for years. “I’m a little hungry.”
“Great,” Geralt said. “We’ll have breakfast, then.”
“What if I had said I wasn’t hungry?”
“I can go on without eating,” Geralt said, “for five days at least. Are you sure you don’t want to have breakfast?”
“Of course I want to have breakfast,” Jaskier said. Well, the situation was bad. He would have to tell Geralt that they weren’t, in fact, dating, and that would possibly break Geralt’s heart, which was unfortunate and also surprising, since Jaskier hadn’t been certain Geralt had one. Geralt never said anything about wanting to spend time with anyone else than Jaskier, and he never flirted at anyone, and when he had in one occasion referred to a past visit to a brothel, he had made it sound like he had gotten his tooth pulled out or something like that. Jaskier had supposed Geralt just didn’t want romance.
“Are you alright?” Geralt asked now, frowning. “You look a little pale.”
“I’m fine,” Jaskier said. He wasn’t fine. He would have to become a disappointment to Geralt and that was just terrible. But there was no way he could stand it before breakfast. “Can we go to eat?”
“Yes,” Geralt said and then walked to him. “Your hair is a mess.” And then he pushed his fingers into Jaskier’s hair and stroked it for a while.
Jaskier sighed. He would tell Geralt he didn’t like Geralt that way. Soon. Possibly tomorrow.
**
Two weeks later, they were walking the road near to the village Geralt said had been a tolerable place thirty years ago. Jaskier was riding Roach and Geralt had had his hand on Jaskier’s thigh for the past hour. It was Jaskier’s own fault, though. Geralt was doing it for his own good, because last week, he had once fallen asleep on Roach. Geralt had had to catch him in his arms to save him from falling off the horse. Now Geralt was just making sure that wouldn’t happen again. He wasn’t falling in love with Jaskier or anything, although admittedly his fingers on Jaskier’s thigh were quite gentle.
It was a mystery indeed why Jaskier hadn’t managed to tell Geralt they were only friends. He thought about it the first thing in the morning, but it felt such a pity to have a conversation like that when they were lying side by side in a bed in one inn or another. Sometimes Geralt even had his arm wrapped around Jaskier’s waist. Jaskier didn’t want to ruin the moment. It would be better to tell Geralt in the evening, but in the evening, there was a bed they were going to climb to, and it just seemed like the timing was bad. Geralt had a hard job and he needed his sleep. And lately, he had had a habit of holding Jaskier’s hand before he fell asleep. It was just so sweet. Jaskier didn’t want to give that up.
He was going to have the talk with Geralt. Definitely. Soon.
“Geralt,” he said. Maybe he could do it now. They were at least an hour’s ride away from the village. Geralt would get over him before they arrived, and they could share a bed as if nothing had happened.
“Yes?” Geralt asked.
Jaskier took a deep breath. “This thing that you and I have going on…”
“Yes?” Geralt asked, after Jaskier had been quiet for some time.
He bit his lip. It was one word. We aren’t dating. Well, that was much more than one word, and he was quickly developing a headache, and it was raining a little, and Roach smelled of a horse which usually was adorable but now somehow got on his nerves. It clearly wasn’t the right time to have a talk with Geralt. But he could do something else instead, for example, he could try to figure out what he had done wrong.
“I was just wondering,” he said slowly, in a casual tone, just like he had been talking about the weather, “how did it began?”
“Are you cold?” Geralt asked with a frown. “You sound hoarse. We’ll have to take a warm bath when we get to the village.”
Jaskier closed his eyes for a second. Oh, god, a warm bath. With Geralt. It would be perfect.
“Anyway, don’t you remember? You started following me.”
Jaskier swallowed. Well, that was technically true.
“Yes. Of course. But I meant… the other stuff in between us.”
Geralt looked at him like he had said something funny. “What other stuff?”
“You… holding my hand and all that,” Jaskier said. He said it nicely, though. He didn’t want Geralt to think that he didn’t appreciate it, because he did, very much.
“I don’t know,” Geralt said. “I suppose that was when you demanded to rub chamomile on my bottom.”
Jaskier bit his lip. Well, he had done that. But Geralt had been injured. It hadn’t been romantic at all, although admittedly his fingers had lingered a little. And he had been a little breathless afterwards, and also a little hard in his pants. But it wasn’t his fault that Geralt had such a nice ass. And he had thought Geralt hadn’t noticed.
“To be honest, I first thought you did it only because I was injured,” Geralt said. “You do stupid stuff all the time, so it’s hard to tell. But you got hard. But then you didn’t mention it, so I decided not to mention it either. But then you started touching my hair all the time.”
“Touching your hair?” Jaskier asked. Well, that was stupid. Of course he touched Geralt’s hair all the time. Geralt’s hair was lovely.
“So, that’s how I knew you like me,” Geralt said. He sounded a little smug, and Jaskier couldn’t help smiling. Geralt was smug about Jaskier liking him, which was just absurd, because Geralt was brilliant, Geralt was so much more than anyone else Jaskier had ever met. Geralt could have had anyone. To think that Geralt was proud that he had Jaskier -
Wait. Wait. He didn’t have Jaskier. They were just friends, and Jaskier was going to tell him that. Soon. But he would touch Geralt’s hair a little bit before, just in case Geralt wouldn’t let him do that anymore.
**
They arrived in the village and went to the inn, rented a room and took their bags there. Then Jaskier said he needed food and they went downstairs, ordered the cheapest meals the place could offer and started eating. Jaskier was half-done with his plate, when a woman with freckles and lovely red hair and a gap in between her teeth and incredibly long fingers came to talk to him. Or to them. But she was looking at him, like she was wondering if perhaps he wanted to hold her breasts in his hands later, gently as he was now holding the knife and the fork, and to give a sweet kiss on…
He bit his lip. He hadn’t slept with anyone in a long time. This was getting a little embarrassing. Luckily, Geralt couldn’t read his thoughts.
Shit. Geralt was sitting next to him, so close to him that their thighs were brushing against each other under the table. Or leaning against each other. And Geralt thought Jaskier was his boyfriend.
“I heard you’re a bard,” the woman said. She seemed so nice.
“Yes,” Jaskier said, nodding. “Yes, I am. I am…” He could goddamn feel Geralt’s disapproval. That was so unfair. But then he glanced at Geralt and saw that Geralt was trying to kill his already dead meal with his fork, not looking at Jaskier disapprovingly, actually not looking at Jaskier at all. He looked sad and hurt.
Jaskier took a deep breath.
“You know what?” he said to the woman, who certainly would have been lovely in bed, lovely and warm like Geralt, but also, well, not Geralt. “Let me introduce you to this man here. Don’t mind his face, he just doesn’t like small talk. He’s the only thing I sing about these days. He’s a witcher. A very good witcher. And the only one I’ve ever met.”
“Oh,” the woman said.
“Yes,” Jaskier said, embracing himself. “This is Geralt of Rivia. You’ve probably heard of him. And he’s also… my boyfriend.”
“Oh,” the woman said with a slightly different tone.
“Yes,” Jaskier said, “yes, indeed. My boyfriend. So, that’s… that’s how the things are.”
“He seems lovely,” the woman said, and Jaskier glanced at Geralt. People never found Geralt lovely. They found Geralt unwelcoming and rude and possibly lethal. But it turned out that Geralt was smiling to the woman nicely, as if he wasn’t a crampy old witcher. “Well, maybe you’re going to sing later,” the woman continued. “My girlfriend and I, we’d very much like to hear it. Our own bard has gotten into experimental music lately and we’d very much like a normal kind of a chord progression for a change.”
“Oh,” Jaskier said, blinking at the woman. “Yes. Well. My chord progressions definitely are normal.”
“That’s a relief,” the woman said. “It was nice to meet you.” Then she left.
“Have a good evening,” Geralt said after her, while Jaskier was staring at her with his mouth open.
“A girlfriend?”
“Surely you’ve heard of the concept,” Geralt said.
“Yes, but…” Jaskier cleared his throat. “I thought she… I thought I…”
“I’m sure you’ve been wrong before,” Geralt said. He sounded happy. Jaskier wanted to smack him, so he did, but it only made Geralt smile more. Jaskier kept his hand on Geralt’s back for a while after that, just to say he was sorry about the attempt of a smack. Besides, Geralt had a lovely back.
**
So, Geralt was his boyfriend.
Later that night, they were alone in their room. Geralt was taking a bath, his arms reaching over the edges of the bathtub and his head rested against the rim. His eyes were half-closed. He didn’t look like a man who could kill an averagely small monster with his bare hands or stare a lesser man to death. He looked like someone who had had a long ride and a good meal and just wanted to sleep in a nice bed with his boyfriend, who just happened to be thoroughly confused about being his boyfriend.
Jaskier didn’t like to complain about his life. He had had some sorrows like anyone else, but he knew that many people had it much worse. Some of them were dead. He was alive, and he was travelling across the continent with his best friend, and he had his lute and his marvelous singing voice, and he wasn’t bad to look at. So, things had been going pretty well for him. But this, this was something that was a little hard to come to terms with.
He had been in a relationship before. Usually it had been with a married woman or, in one occasion, a man, but once or twice he had had a thing with a nice girl who might have wanted to marry him eventually, if only he hadn’t panicked and demanded he should be able to live his life in total artistic freedom, which meant not having anyone to depend on him. Then he had ran away and regretted it soon enough, when he had been alone with his lute. But the thing was, he wanted Geralt to depend on him. The thought that someone else would rub chamomile on Geralt’s bottom was just unbearable. He needed Geralt to need him, because otherwise Geralt would eventually grow tired of him and realize life would be easier without Jaskier, and then everything would be over.
He had never planned to be Geralt’s boyfriend, but somehow he had become just that. He was a little embarrassed that it had happened without him noticing, but then again, things could have been worse. Much worse.
Only, there was something he had been wondering. Not much, of course, because he had been planning to tell Geralt they weren’t together. But since it turned out that he was now the one who was telling people they were, in fact, together, it was only understandable that the issue was on his mind.
He walked to Geralt, who glanced at him from the bathtub and then gave out a sigh, like he was happy to see Jaskier. How weird. And how… nice. Jaskier sat down on the floor behind Geralt, pushed his fingers into Geralt’s hair and started combing the strands slowly. “Geralt?”
“Jaskier,” Geralt said. It sounded more of a groan, and it went straight through Jaskier’s skin, and to his certain body parts. There was nothing new with that. He had always known Geralt was attractive. He just hadn’t known he was Geralt’s boyfriend.
“I was thinking about something.”
“Tell me,” Geralt said. He was leaning his head against Jaskier’s hands.
“Well, since we are… together…”
“Yes?”
“I was wondering if you are… why you haven’t…”
Geralt glanced at him. “Did I do something wrong?”
“No, of course not,” Jaskier said, “you could never. I mean, you could, but… What I meant to say that isn’t it a little funny, really, that you haven’t been interested in…”
“Interested in what?” Geralt asked in a steady voice. Either he was dumber than Jaskier had thought or he was quite good at acting, which was a horrifying thought. Jaskier had been under impression that he could read Geralt like an open book. Of course, that impression had shattered a little when he hadn’t realized that Geralt thought of him as his boyfriend.
Well, it was best to just say it.
Jaskier took a deep breath and opened his mouth. Then he closed it again.
“Jaskier?” Geralt said and pulled away from his hands. The water splashed against the edges of the tub as Geralt turned to face Jaskier.
“You’ve been there for too long,” Jaskier said in a thin voice. “You’re turning into a raisin.”
“That’s impossible,” Geralt said. “Jaskier, what’s wrong? Have I done something? I’ve been trying to be nice, you know, I’ve tried to answer your questions with words and let you ride Roach and show you my feelings. And I know I’m not very good at that, but I thought I had been doing alright.”
“You’re good,” Jaskier said, grabbing Geralt’s hand and squeezing it. “You’re very good, Geralt, actually you’re the best. You’re the best friend… the best boyfriend a boy could have. And you don’t need to let me ride Roach all the time. I’m afraid I’m going to gain weight if I don’t exercise. But I wasn’t complaining. That wasn’t it at all.”
“What is it, then?” Geralt asked. “Just tell me. I can take it. If you want to leave me –“
“Of course I don’t want to leave you,” Jaskier cut in and then bit his lip. Shit. Well, it was kind of true. He definitely didn’t want to leave Geralt, although he had wanted to tell Geralt they hadn’t been together in the first place. But it seemed that it was a little too late for that. He realized vaguely that he was still holding Geralt’s hand. “I was just thinking… aren’t you interested in me at all?”
Geralt looked a little confused. “I thought it was fairly obvious that I’m interested in you.”
“Yes, well,” Jaskier said. He was definitely blushing and there was nothing he could do about that. Maybe Geralt was colorblind. Jaskier had never asked. “I meant, aren’t you interested in my… body?”
“Your body?” Geralt asked, sounding surprised. Perhaps he hadn’t noticed Jaskier had a body. That would have been just like him.
“Yes,” Jaskier said in a thin voice. “My… manhood.”
“Your what?”
“Don’t you want to sleep with me?” Jaskier asked, because he was already a little frustrated at this point. Certainly Geralt should have realized by now what Jaskier was trying to ask. And to look so shocked about the thought of Jaskier’s manhood…
“Sleep with you?” Geralt asked. He still sounded shocked.
Shit.
Maybe Jaskier had read Geralt all wrong again. Maybe they weren’t even boyfriends after all. Maybe it had been a joke. Maybe Geralt had finally heard of humor and had wanted to try. Or maybe they were boyfriends but Geralt just didn’t think it included that, which was perfectly fine, of course. Maybe Geralt wanted Jaskier in his bed but just sleeping, not touching, or touching, but only above his waist. And maybe his knees, but not his dick. Not that Jaskier would have wanted to touch his dick, only he did now that he was thinking about it.
And he wanted Geralt to touch him. All over. Soon. Preferably now. They had been boyfriends for ages apparently and Jaskier hadn’t even got one single kiss, and wasn’t that a bit unfair? Not that he wanted to force Geralt into anything, of course not, but Geralt had to know he was attractive, he had to know what seeing his body and his face and his goddamn hair was doing to Jaskier. And there he was, sitting in the bathtub, naked, his hair all wet and in more knots than before Jaskier had started combing it, and with a thoughtful look on his face.
“Of course, if you don’t want to sleep with me, that’s fine,” Jaskier said. “That’s just fine. Really. Like, for real. I’ll cope. Just don’t leave me, because I couldn’t –“
“Quiet,” Geralt said and put his hand on the side of Jaskier’s face. It was warm and wet and the water ran down Jaskier’s neck and under his shirt. “It’s not that I don’t want to sleep with you.”
Jaskier cleared his throat. “It’s not?”
“It’s just that you’ve been…” Geralt frowned. “I know this has been a little difficult for you, this change from being friends to being boyfriends. Every time I try to kiss you, for example, you just ignore it. I thought you weren’t ready.”
Jaskier took a deep breath. “You’ve tried to kiss me?”
“Many times,” Geralt said. He looked a little hurt now.
“How? How have you tried to kiss me?”
“Well,” Geralt said slowly, “I’ve looked at you.” And then he stopped.
“You’ve looked at me?”
“Yes. In the eyes. It was clear that I wanted to kiss you.”
“No, it wasn’t,” Jaskier said, staring at Geralt. Geralt was looking him in the eyes. Geralt had really nice eyes, except when they were black and he looked like he wanted to murder someone. But that was kind of hot, too. “You can’t just expect people to realize you want to kiss them if you look them in the eyes. You have to do something.”
“Like what?” Geralt asked, still looking him in the eyes.
“Like say, I want to kiss you.”
“I want to kiss you,” Geralt said.
“Just like that,” Jaskier said, patting Geralt on the shoulder. “That wasn’t too hard, was it? Well, where we were? Oh, yes. I was asking you why you don’t want to sleep with me.”
“I want to sleep with you,” Geralt said. His voice was hoarse and low and a little frustrated, as if Jaskier was slow in the head or something. “I do. But I haven’t been in a hurry. And you have to realize why I thought you were having mixed feelings about being my boyfriend.”
“Mixed feelings? I didn’t know I was your boyfriend!”
Geralt blinked.
Jaskier blinked as well. Okay, that had probably been a wrong thing to say.
Geralt took a very deep breath. He clearly had big lungs. “You didn’t know?”
“No,” Jaskier said and bit his lip, “yes, no, I mean… I realized two weeks ago.”
“Two weeks ago?”
“It was something you said. You told someone you were my boyfriend or something like that.”
“But…” Geralt said, and then he stood up in the tub so suddenly that Jaskier jumped. The floor was wet with water, Geralt was wet and naked and clearly angry and trying to climb off the tub quicker than was safe. “You didn’t know until two weeks ago?”
“Sorry,” Jaskier said, watching as Geralt walked through the room and started pulling on his clothes so quickly he got them all wrong. Also, they all got wet. “Geralt, stop that. You don’t need to get dressed.”
“I definitely do,” Geralt said. “I thought we were together. And I’ve been walking around naked.”
“You’ve been walking around naked for a long time.”
“I thought we were together.”
Jaskier sighed. “Geralt –“
“Don’t Geralt me,” Geralt said. “I thought we had an understanding.”
“I thought we had an understanding, too. It was just a different understanding.”
“You always said to people that I was your witcher. You got jealous when someone talked to me nicely.”
“I didn’t –,” Jaskier began, and then he realized that he had, indeed. Shit.
“And you always, always touch my hair.”
“I like your hair!”
“Well,” Geralt said, “you can’t have it. I’m planning to keep it. And I’m going to keep Roach. I know she likes you but she’s my horse and I’d rather die than give her to you. You can stay here for the night, I’ll find another place to sleep. But I expect you to be gone in the morning.”
Jaskier bit his lip. This was a bit too much. He climbed onto his feet and almost fell over because the floor was wet, and then he walked to Geralt and punched him on the chest. Geralt blinked.
“I don’t want Roach,” Jaskier said. It was the wrong thing to say but he wasn’t sure what the right thing was.
“Great,” Geralt said. “You want nothing from me. That’s been made clear.”
“I want everything from you,” Jaskier said, “you bloody idiot, but I’ve been so happy that you let me follow you and be your friend that I somehow missed the rest of it. I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry. But you could have told me you liked me that way. With words.”
“I don’t know how to talk about it,” Geralt said, but he didn’t sound so angry now.
“Well, I don’t know how to talk about it, either,” Jaskier said, “so maybe you could apologize to me that you told me to leave you and wouldn’t even give me Roach.”
“You just said you didn’t want Roach.”
“Of course I want Roach,” Jaskier said and then realized he was about to start crying.
“Okay,” Geralt said and grabbed Jaskier’s shoulders. His hands weren’t exactly gentle but he wasn’t pushing Jaskier away either. “Don’t… it’s alright. I apologize. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you I wanted you to be my boyfriend. I should have. I just… I didn’t find the words, and then… I thought it was obvious.”
“It wasn’t,” Jaskier said. He was crying but only a little, so it didn’t count. “I’ve been only dating married royal women for some time now. My relationship skills aren’t very good.”
“I haven’t dated anyone in fifty-four years,” Geralt said. “My relationships aren’t very good either.”
“Shit,” Jaskier said, crying. Then he thought about something. “Geralt, do you really want to kiss me?”
“Yes,” Geralt said, shaking him a little. “I told you.”
Jaskier blinked. “When?”
“Five minutes ago.”
Jaskier blinked again. “Really?”
“Yes,” Geralt said, “yes, you moron, and now I’m just waiting for you to do it.”
“Me?” Jaskier cleared his throat. “Why can’t you do it?”
“Because I’m feeling a little insecure after you just told me a minute ago that you didn’t think we were together.”
“But I decided I want to be with you,” Jaskier said. “That’s why I wanted to know if you want to sleep with me.”
“Well, I want to sleep with you,” Geralt said.
“Really?” Jaskier asked.
Geralt shook him again. After the shaking stopped, Jaskier touched Geralt’s face. Geralt hadn’t shaved. He had the most manly chin Jaskier had ever seen, though. Jaskier had never realized he appreciated that in a lover, not until now. But then again, it seemed that there were a lot of things he hadn’t realized.
“I can’t believe I like you,” Geralt said and took Jaskier’s face in between his hands. “I’m going to kiss you now. So that you know.”
Jaskier stared at him.
“Did you get that?”
“Yes. Yes. Of course. Kiss me, Geralt.”
“I’m going to,” Geralt said.
“Because I want you to kiss me,” Jaskier said.
“Stop talking,” Geralt said.
Jaskier was about to say something, but he couldn’t, because Geralt kissed him. He realized vaguely that his face was wet, probably because he had been crying, but now he couldn’t anymore, because he was kind of busy being kissed. And it was good. If he had ever wondered what it would be like to get kissed by Geralt, he would have thought it would be good, and it was. It really was. He would make songs out of it. Later, though. It was like being kissed by his best friend in the whole world, his best friend that he also fancied a lot. And whom he wanted to sleep with. Because that much was certain. He had only been a little slow to realize it. He pushed his fingers into Geralt’s hair and kissed Geralt with all the skill he had developed through the years that he had spent having short and emotionally unsatisfying but otherwise fulfilling affairs with married women. After a moment he realized Geralt was laughing at him.
He pulled back. “What?”
“You’re kissing me like I’m one of your love affairs,” Geralt said. He didn’t look angry, though, nor disappointed.
“I was not.”
“You were,” Geralt said, “you definitely were. You were imagining I’m one of those little ladies.”
“They weren’t little, you asshole,” Jaskier said and kissed him again.
**
“Geralt?”
“Yes?” Geralt said. He was lying on Jaskier, their damp skin glued together. His dick was soft on Jaskier’s thigh and his hands were holding Jaskier’s face. They were huge. Jaskier felt like being held by a giant. But in a good and very satisfying way.
“Next time,” he said, “I promise I’ll last longer.”
“Don’t worry about that.”
He stroked Geralt’s hair. Well, he didn’t have a choice, because he had got his fingers entangled in the said hair during the lovemaking and he was too tired and spent to figure out how to get his hand out. “Next time you’re going to get to fuck me.”
“Jaskier,” Geralt said and kissed him on the neck, “you’re only a human. A tiny human. Don’t be too harsh on yourself.”
“I wanted it to be perfect.”
“It was perfect.”
“I came before you could get your cock in my ass,” Jaskier said, “and then I cried a little.”
“Actually, you came after I had barely gotten my fingers in your ass,” Geralt said, “and you cried a little all the way. I would have been more worried if you hadn’t been trying to touch me everywhere at the same time.”
“And I couldn’t even do that,” Jaskier said. “I’m sorry I sprained my wrists when I tried to…”
“…take care of my needs with your hand like a gentleman,” Geralt said. “If you say once more that you’re sorry about it, I won’t let you near Roach for a month. That’s not something you’re supposed to be sorry for. I’m sorry my dick was so hard that you sprained your wrist.”
“It wasn’t the hardness, it was the size,” Jaskier said. “And the angle was all wrong. And I was crying because you had just made me come and it just felt so good, so I had tears in my eyes and I couldn’t really see what I was doing.”
“Like I said, it was perfect.”
“You’re a smug bastard, Geralt.”
“Yes,” Geralt said, sounding like a smug bastard.
“I’m glad we did it, though. Can we try again tomorrow?”
“If you have recovered.”
Jaskier wanted to hit the smug bastard on the face but it seemed like too much of an effort.
“Hey,” Geralt said, his voice suddenly low and hoarse and serious. “I have a question for you.”
“Okay.”
“I’m going to use words this time.”
Jaskier blinked. He was pretty sure he had sweat in his eyes. That was what was making him cry. “Okay.”
“Do you want to be my boyfriend?”
He thought about it for maybe a second. It was difficult not to see the pros of Geralt’s offer when he was lying under Geralt with his head still hazy after he had come with Geralt’s fingers in his ass and Geralt’s kisses on his face.
“Yes,” he said.
**
**
**
The inn was small. Jaskier ordered two ales and more bread than they could eat. He was planning to sing later, but first he was going to eat so much he would almost faint. They had been on the road for two weeks now, sleeping under the trees and, well, making love under the sky, which wasn’t bad, but his joints had started to ache a little.
“Thank you,” he said to the innkeeper.
“Who’s that?” she asked, pointing at Geralt, who was already sitting in the darkest corner of the room, looking like he had just killed a ghoul and had its very unpleasant blood all over his shirt, and like he would have rather been killing the ghoul than sitting in this place. Coincidentally, that was exactly like the things were. But Jaskier wasn’t worried. He was certain that deep down in his heart, Geralt liked Jaskier’s songs. Listening to Jaskier sing would cheer him up. And he would even drop the gloomy face later, when they would take a bath together and then go to bed.
Jaskier smiled at the woman. “That’s my boyfriend.”