Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Geralt raised himself up on his arms and looked down, smiling. His silver hair was damp and tangled, clinging to his forehead and cheeks. His breathing was fast and deep and his eyes burned with passion.

“Look at me,” he purred, his voice barely more than a rumble in his chest. “I want to see you.” He began moving again.

Jaskier woke with a gasp, sitting up so abruptly he almost bumped his head on his nightlight.

“Shit…” he gasped. “Fuck…”

He had already changed his sheets three times this week. He was gonna have to do his own laundry or face Yennefer’s scorn. Then again… He probably should do his own laundry every now and then.

And maybe start wearing pyjamas to bed. Or at least pants.

He balled up the soiled sheets, tossed them in the corner and headed for the bathroom, quickly checking that the coast was clear before dashing across the living room. 

He’d had enough nightly run-ins with Yennefer to know she did not appreciate the sight of her naked flatmate after midnight. Or any other time, really. Which was actually quite offensive. He was in good shape. 

He would have liked to take a shower, but first of all, the noise would certainly wake Yen up, and secondly, standing naked under a hot, steamy spray was probably not the most sensible thing to do right now. Instead, he cleaned himself up with a flannel and cold water.

Served him right for thinking… well, dreaming, about his best friend like that.

Back in his room, Jaskier couldn’t be bothered to make his bed, so he threw on some pants and a t-shirt and went into the living room, flopping down on the sofa and putting on a movie—a very not-sexy, boring one, with absolutely no tall, broad, glaring hunks to confuse him. Keeping the volume so low he could only barely make out the dialogue, he snuggled up under Yen’s favourite blanket, doing his best not to think about anything at all.

He didn’t even know why he was having those dreams. It wasn’t like he was constantly fantasising about Geralt or imagining him having sex or… or even wanting to think about him having sex. 

But after that trip they took where Geralt had, supposedly, hooked up with Véa or Téa or… or both, he just couldn’t seem to get rid of those images. Geralt with a woman. Geralt with two women. Geralt with a man. Geralt with a whole room full of people, naked bodies writhing, the air filled with moans and gasps.

Jaskier never featured in his own dreams, which he thought was really unfair. Considering he was the one dealing with all the anxiety and messy sheets, at least he deserved to be in on the fun. Right?

But no, he was always just observing. Sometimes right in the middle of the action, sometimes from a distance and once, which had really, truly freaked him out, through Geralt’s eyes. That was the only one in which the other person had any kind of identity. Usually they were just faceless representations of Woman, Man, Person. 

But that one time when he had felt himself trapped inside Geralt’s body, looking out through his eyes, he had looked up and, moving above him, back arched with ecstasy, lips parted in a silent cry, he saw… Yennefer…

He’d seriously considered finding himself a therapist after that dream. Or possibly just a well-stocked bar.

He had been terrified of facing Yen the next morning, but thankfully no passion or even a hint of curious interest had stirred in him, not even when she had plopped down in his lap wearing nothing but underwear, demanding he lent a sympathetic ear as she bitched about some dick at work.

If only that were the case with Geralt too. But no… Every time he saw his friend, heard his voice or even mentioned his name, vivid Technicolor, 4D renditions of Best of Jaskier’s Shameful Wet Dreams would blast through his head, drowning out everything around him except the puzzled looks Geralt, and anyone else who happened to be around, would be sending him as he tried to fake his part of the conversation.

It had to stop. He just couldn’t go on like this. Not if he was going to retain his friendship with Geralt. And his sanity.

He may or may not have been drooling on the cushion after drifting off, but since he had the sense to shift the blanket over it and wipe his chin as he covered a yawn before Yen had crossed the room, nothing could be proven and he would deny it to his dying day.

“Why the hell are you sleeping on the sofa?” she asked, sitting down in the chair next to him, carefully balancing two scones on the rim of her mug.

With a hopeful smile, he reached for one of them, but she slapped his hand away, nearly spilling tea all over herself.

“Did you wet your bed?”

He knew she was just teasing, but it was still close enough to the truth to smart and it must have shown, because she immediately put the mug down and leaned closer. 

“Shit, Jaskier! I’m sorry. I…”

“I didn’t wet the bed,” he groaned. “I just… I had a dream and…” He tried to shrug, but somehow, instead, ended up pulling the blanket up over his head.

There was a long moment of silence.

Then something that sounded a lot like a badly suppressed laugh.

“Oh Jaskier…” She had shifted even closer and he could feel her tugging on the blanket, but he held on to it. “You finally hit puberty? I’m so proud of you.”

“Fuck off!”

Finally she took pity and offered him one of her scones and a fresh cup of tea if he would just come out—no pun intended—of his blanket and talk to her.

She even went out to make the tea so he could sort himself out with at least an illusion of dignity. But no sooner were they both settled with their breakfast before she gave him the look.

“Talk!”

He groaned. “That’s not really necessary. Is it?”

Yennefer considered and then sighed. “I guess not.” She reached over to give his arm a squeeze. “Was this the first time?”

He shook his head. “A couple of times since… y’know… the trip…”

“A couple?”

“Yeah, like… ten… twelve?”

“Jaskier!” This time she did spill her tea, but it had gone cold anyway. “That’s like… Almost every night!”

“I know…”

“I’m starting to see why you've been looking like shit lately. I thought it was just because Annie had been busy and you were too lazy to go out and meet somebody else.”

“Gee, thanks a lot” He stuck his tongue out at her and she made a rude gesture over her shoulder as she pranced off to the kitchen to get a cloth to clean up the tea.

Annie had been busy, and he had actually wondered if that might have something to do with the dreams. That his mind was so focused on sex because he wasn’t having any. So, about a week ago, he had reconnected with an ex, Vespula, who, after giving him a considerable piece of her mind, had welcomed him back with open arms.

He had made it excessively clear that it was not a relationship, just two friends enjoying each other, and she had assured him that they were on the same page. He was almost convinced that she meant it. 

But it hadn’t helped. Sure, he didn’t have those dreams when he was with her, but he couldn’t spend every night at her place and as soon as he was back in his own bed, Geralt was right there with him.

“So…” Yennefer was back. “Do you think it’s time to talk to him?”

“No!” Only Yennefer’s quick reflexes saved Jaskier from his own tea-bath. “No… I mean, I still don’t know what it is. It’s just… dreams.”

“Of you and him?”

He shook his head. “Of him and… others…”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

“Well,” she said after a long contemplative silence. “I guess that brings us back to the old plan.”

“Which plan?”

“For you to get yourself sorted out.” She leaned over and picked his phone off the table. How did she know the code? “If you really do fancy Geralt in some way, you need to do something about it, but before you risk everything, don’t you think you need to know if anything could actually come of it?”

The penny dropped. “To find out if I am attracted to guys at all? To find out if I’m bi?”

“Yeah, or any of the other numerous orientations that can include attraction to your own gender.” She handed him his phone. “Here, I made your profile. You can change the picture if you want, but I really think you should go with that one. Your eyes look amazing.”

“You did what?!?!” He stared at the phone. “You put me in a gay dating app? What if people see it? My colleagues? My students?”

“Well.” She smirked. “If they see it, that means that they’re on the app too, and in that case, I doubt they’ll have a problem with you being…”

“Being whatever.” He sighed and flopped back on the sofa, then immediately sat up again as his phone pinged. “I don’t believe it! Somebody has already replied!”

“Of course they have.” She stood up and leaned in to kiss his forehead. “You’re a catch. Now don’t just throw yourself at the first guy. Take some time, get to know them, and we’ll pick a subject for you to experiment on.”

“I hate you.”

“I know, darling. Now say thank you.”

“Thank you, Yen.”

...

“Why are men so gross?” Jaskier dropped his phone and wiped his hands on the thighs of his jeans, as if that could somehow erase what he had just read. “I mean… What happened to ‘Hello, how are you?’? Why do they go straight to talking filth?”

“Ooh, is it good?” Yennefer’s friend, Triss, made a grab for his phone, but Yen got to it first, handing it back to Jaskier.

Triss pouted. 

“No, it’s not.” Jaskier said, hitting the block-button that he had gotten to know very well over the past couple of days. “It’s disgusting. But at least he didn’t send me a…” He shivered. “A picture!”

Both girls snorted. 

“Welcome to our world.” Yennefer patted his shoulder.

“We’ve got cookies.” Triss chimed in. “And tips on how to track down the mothers of the men behind the… meat…”

“The mothers…” Jaskier gaped at her. “You mean you...?”

Triss nodded. “Yup, I send them screenshots of all the stuff their sons write and then top it off with a dick pic, asking: ‘Is this your offspring?’”

Jaskier roared with laughter. “Seriously? You’re a genius.”

“I know.”

“Right.” Yennefer reached for his phone. “But before you sign up as musical sidekick of the Dating-App-Avenger, maybe we should focus on the real purpose here? Finding you a date that’s not a total creep?”

“And preferably hot too?” Triss moved so she could look over her shoulder. “What’s your type?”

“I…” He saw Yennefer glance at him, her eyebrow raised. “I don’t know… I’m not sure I have a type.”

…

Jaskier had to keep his hands buried deep in his pockets to keep them from shaking. He had picked a small restaurant on the other side of town, hoping to avoid running into anyone he knew. And, being ready early, he had decided he might as well walk there and give himself a chance to clear his head. 

But instead, his brain had seized the opportunity to bombard him with visions of all the ways this could go horribly wrong, from ending up dead in a ditch to being catfished by a group of his students, waiting at the restaurant with their phones livestreaming to the whole university, to Geralt for some reason showing up and… And what? What would it matter if Geralt saw him on a date? With a man? It wasn’t like he was cheating on him or anything. He didn’t owe him an explanation.

But still… That thought was actually the most terrifying out of all the horrific scenarios he had played over and over in his mind by the time he reached the door to the little Mongolian restaurant. 

He clenched his fists, then forced himself to relax and took a deep breath. He could do this.

His date, Temerian03,  was, to put it in Triss’ words, gorgeous.

He was already sitting at their table and Jaskier allowed himself a moment to study him. He was wearing a casual blue jacket over a white shirt and his dirty blond hair had that ruffled flatness that usually came from wearing a hat for a long time. And sure enough, on the back of his chair hung a dark blue cap that could very well be the exact one he’d been wearing in his profile picture. The intense eyes and chiseled jaw Jaskier already knew from the picture, but he was not prepared for the sheer bulk of the man. Not that he was fat, just… He was built . He was, Jaskier realised with a sense of rising dread, painfully similar to Geralt.

He almost turned around and fled, but then the man looked up, recognised Jaskier and smiled, getting to his feet.

Okay, he did not look like Geralt at all. Except maybe a little, but not enough to make this weird.

“Hi…” Jaskier hurried over, offering his hand. 

“Nice to meet you. I’m guessing Dandelion isn’t your actual name?” He had a nice, firm but not too hard handshake.

“No, my name is Julian, but my friends call me Jaskier.”

“In that case...” He gestured for Jaskier to sit before returning to his own chair. “How about I call you Julian? For now?”

“Uhm, I… Yeah…” They’d barely said hello and Jaskier was already behaving like an imbecile. “And you are…?”

“Vernon,” the man said. “Last name Roche, if you need to text a friend or something.”

Jaskier gaped at him. He hadn’t even considered that. He knew Yen and her friends were always keeping in touch when any of them went out on a date with a new guy, sending details and pictures of licence plates and such. They had all kinds of code words to let each other know if something felt off and they might need a rescue.

But Yen had just sent him off with a ‘Have fun’ and a kiss on the cheek. Rude, really. And dumb. Guys could get assaulted too.

“Yes, I…” He got out his phone. “I’ll just send a quick one and then I’m all yours.” He nearly bit his tongue. “I mean... “

Vernon’s laugh was warm and though Jaskier most of all wanted to sink down and hide under the table, he did manage to laugh along. Sort of.

“Relax,” Vernon said, gesturing to the wine he had already ordered and pouring Jaskier a glass when he nodded. “I take it this is your first time?”

“First time?” Jaskier barely resisted the urge to empty the glass in one go.

“Meeting someone from an app?” 

“Oh, yeah… I…” He might as well be honest. “It’s actually my first date with a guy. Ever.”

“Oh… In that case I’m flattered.”

They ordered their food and soon the conversation was flowing a lot more relaxed and natural than Jaskier had dared to hope. He talked about his job, his flatmate and a little about his former YouTube glory while Vernon revealed that he had spent almost half of his life in the army and was now working as a private consultant.

“In security?” Jaskier asked, his stomach starting to go south again. Had he truly picked Geralt’s clone?

“No, logistics.” Vernon smiled and launched into a moderately interesting explanation on the project that had brought him to Oxenfurt.

It was all very pleasant, but by the time dessert was served, Jaskier knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that he was not, in any way or form, attracted to Vernon. At all.

The evening ended with another handshake and neither of them suggested they meet again. 

Jaskier had already begun to walk away when Vernon called out.

“Julian?”

He turned to look at him. “Yes?”

“I hope this hasn’t put you off completely. Dating men, I mean. Just because we didn’t click doesn’t mean that there isn’t somebody out there for you. Don’t give up, okay?”

Jaskier forced a smile and nodded. “I won’t. Thanks.” He didn’t look back as he hurried away, breathing a sigh of relief when he had turned a corner, out of view. 

He fumbled to get his phone out of his pocket and unlock it. Luckily she picked up right away. 

“Yen!” he whined. “I don’t… I don’t think I can do this.”

Chapter Text

“I can’t believe you told Pavetta!” Jaskier slammed the kitchen cabinet closed so hard that the door almost fell off. “Why the hell would you do that? I trusted you.”

“Jask…” Yennefer took a step towards him, holding up her hands as if approaching a skittish pony. “I didn’t. I would never do that.”

“Then how does she know, huh? How can she set me up on a date with a guy unless she knows I’m… I’m considering it?”

Yennefer sighed. “I think she heard it from one of her friends who recognised you on the app… And she knows you and I live together, so she texted me—still not sure how she got my number—about another friend of hers who might be a good match for you.”

Jaskier groaned and hid his face in his hands. “If she knows, half the faculty knows. And all the students, most likely.”

Yennefer had the nerve to laugh at him. “It’s a big university, you know. Not everybody cares about your sex life…”

“Yen!”

“... or even knows who you are. Oh, stop pouting. It was bound to get out there, wasn’t it? And it’s not like you are ashamed of your interest in men. Are you?”

He withered under her gaze. “No… And ‘potential interest’! It’s just… I’d kind of prefer choosing how and when to tell people myself. If there’s anything to tell at all.”

“I get it.” She closed the gap between them and pulled him into a hug, which he only resisted for a moment before melting into it with such force that she almost staggered. “I’ll tell her not to go spreading it about. I’m sure she’ll understand.”

“Thanks…”

She held him for a moment. “So… Will you do it?”

“Do what?”

“Go on that date?”

He pulled away. “I said I wasn’t going on more dates. At least not before I’ve had some time to think.”

“Time to chicken out, you mean? Or to have more steamy dreams about Geralt?” She pursed her lips.

“I haven’t had a single one of those dreams for over a week, thank you very much.”

“So… no dreams since your date with Vernon?”

“Yeah…”

…

“Jaskier, what the fuck!” Yennefer sat up in bed, pulling the sheet around her. She blinked at him. “Are you… Are you naked?!”

“Sorry…” Jaskier grabbed a pillow to cover himself, but she snatched it away from him. “It’s just… Do you think Pavetta could still arrange that… that date?”

“Oh, honey…” She reached up to pat his cheek. “Did you have another dream?”

He nodded.

She sighed. “Have you cleaned up?”

“No, I just rushed in here the moment I woke up… Of course I have!”

“And you didn’t think to throw on some pants?”

“No… Sorry…”

She settled down. “Go make yourself decent and then come join me. I’ll protect you from your big, bad, superhot best friend.”

“Thank you. You’re the best.”

When they were snuggled up together, he leaned in to kiss her forehead. “I mean it, y’know. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

“You’d probably have banged Geralt by now and fucked everything up.”

“Gee, thanks for believing in me.”

“Am I wrong?”

“No… Probably not. Depending on whether he’d be up for it or not.”

They lay in silence for a while.

“What was his name again?”

“Ehm…. something foreign…. Eliah or something like that.”

“Hmm…” Jaskier just hoped that he was neither big, handsome nor brooding.

…

Elihal looked absolutely nothing like Geralt. His hair, though also long, was sleek and dark, gathered back into a ponytail more neat than anything Geralt could ever pull off with that mane of his. His features were striking, with high cheekbones, a narrow, straight nose and eyes like… like wow!

He definitely looked good. He also looked more than a little annoyed as Jaskier walked up to the table and held out a hand, about to introduce himself.

“Hi, I’m…”

“Please don’t start.” Elihal rolled his eyes. “Don’t you people know anything about boundaries? I’m supposed to be on a date.”

“Yeah, I…” Jaskier floundered. “I know. I’m… your date… You’re Elihal, right?”

It was Elihal’s turn to gape. He looked Jaskier up and down, then shook his head. “No. There must be some mistake.”

Great! He might have been missing some sleep lately and not keeping up with his moisturising as rigorously as he ought to, and sure, Elihal looked to be at least 10 years younger than Jaskier’s actual age, but still… There was no reason to be that blunt about it.

“I… What… What do you mean?”

Elihal gestured to the chair across from him, looking tired and resigned. 

“I’m sorry,” he said, not meeting Jaskier’s eyes. “I know it’s not your fault. It’s just… I don’t date men. At all…”

“Oh…”

“Yeah… I’m sorry for the confusion, but I guess Pavetta got things mixed up.” Elihal sighed as he got out his phone. “I tried explaining it to her before, but she’s a bit… y’know… not simple, but… She’s led a very sheltered life.”

“I don’t know,” Jaskier admitted. “I don’t really know her, except as the daughter of my boss. And… I think she’s dating some guy who’s like twice her age?”

Elihal nodded. “Yeah, Duny is okay, but I’m not sure they’re good for each other. It’s like she was only just getting out from under her mother’s thumb, starting to learn how to think for herself, and he swoops her up. Now it’s all ‘Duny this…’ and ‘Duny that…’.”

“And…” Jaskier, for once, felt uncomfortable gossiping about people he didn’t know. Or maybe he was just too curious. “... what was it she got wrong? About us? I mean, about you?”

Elihal’s frown turned into a tentative smile. “I told her I’m queer and I suppose she took that to mean I’m gay. Not sure she knows many other things it could mean.”

“Well, since you don’t date men, I suppose it means…” Jaskier desperately wanted to seem cool and knowledgeable, but he couldn’t quite come up with a way for a man to be queer without having at least some interest in his own gender.

He must have been convincing, because Elihal nodded. “I’m genderqueer. Haven’t quite figured out the details yet, but I know I don’t identify as 100% male. Or female. I guess I’ll end up calling myself fluid, because some days, like today, I feel comfortable in jeans and button-ups, while other days I prefer dresses and a full face of make-up.”

“Oh…” Jaskier responded eloquently. “I see… So... You prefer women? Even when you are…?”

“Women, enbies, people like me, just… not men .”

“I see. So…” Jaskier grinned and gestured to himself. “It’s nothing personal?”

“Not at all. You’re very attractive. For a guy.” Elihal laughed. 

Jaskier was just about to compliment him when a waiter approached them.

“Are you ready to order?”

“Oh, actually, we’re…” Jaskier began, but Elihal stopped him. 

“We need a bit more time,” he said. “But could you bring us a couple of beers?”

The waiter nodded, only slightly contemptuously, and left.

“I thought we weren’t doing the date.”

“We’re not, but you seem like a cool guy and I have no other plans, so if you’re up for it, I figured we might as well get to know each other. As friends.”

“I’d like that.”

…

Elihal was truly a great guy and Jaskier suspected that if he had been amenable, he might have been a good candidate for trying out Jaskier’s orientation. But this was much better. Because there was nothing at stake, Jaskier could relax and just have a good time.

It turned out that Elihal thought he was going on a date with a woman called Julia who used to have a YouTube channel under the name Buttercup. Jaskier cleared that up and even let Elihal talk him into showing him his own channel and one of his less embarrassing videos, with the volume so far down that only the closest tables noticed and shot them disapproving scowls.

In return, Elihal admitted that he too was on YouTube, but refused to divulge more, promising he’d send Jaskier a link later. He did, however, show Jaskier his webshop where he sold clothes, both dresses and suits of his own design. 

“You mean you actually make these?”

“Well...” Elihal beamed with pride. “I design them and I do the alterations to make it fit each customer perfectly, but lately I’ve been doing so well that I just don’t have time to make everything myself anymore. So I’ve got a deal with some design students in need of an extra income. It gives them much-needed experience too. It’s One thing knowing how to draw an outfit, it's quite another actually making it. And making it good.”

Jaskier saved the site on his phone. He could always use a new suit and Elihal’s stuff was very good. Yennefer might even go for some of the dresses.

Jaskier could easily see why Pavetta might have thought the date to be a good idea. Elihal was technically a man but with distinctly feminine features, both in appearance and the way he moved and talked. For a first time with a man, he was a lot less ‘threatening’ than hunks like Vernon. Or Geralt. 

After dinner, they went to a nearby pub together and Elihal was, to Jaskier’s ecstatic delight, a fan of karaoke. They got a little competition going, with the other guests cheering them on, and ended the night with a passionate duet that left, Jaskier believed, all the women and some of the men in the pub melting off their chairs. 

When Jaskier finally headed home, he was pleasantly tipsy and already looking forward to their next non-date, which would be sometime next month when Elihal could find some time in his busy schedule.

Yennefer was, of course, waiting up for him. When he first explained about the misunderstanding, she tried to comfort him, but he made it clear that it was actually a relief. Then she insisted on calling Pavetta and giving her a piece of her mind, but he managed to talk her out of it just in time to focus on the link Elihal sent.

A moment later, he was dragging Yennefer over to his computer.

“You’re not gonna believe this!” he gasped, laughing. “He… He’s a dragqueen. And he’s brilliant!”

…

Ironically, the failure of his second ‘date’ had renewed Jaskier’s enthusiasm for the project. If he could find somebody like Elihal who was not as excessively masculine as Geralt, but who, of course, was actually interested in men, he might actually find the courage to go through with it.

Or at least go a little further than sharing a meal and a laugh.

So he tweaked his profile and adjusted the search criteria, and though he didn’t get quite as many matches as before, there seemed to be a decent pool of men in the area to choose from.

He was going to ask Yennefer, and possibly Triss, to help him, when a profile picture caught his eye. He knew that face. He’d equal parts hated and admired that guy some ten years ago when he and Valdo Marx were competing for the unofficial title as Oxenfurt’s biggest YouTube celebrity. They’d never actually met in person or even communicated directly, but not-so-subtle insults and jabs had been exchanged in the comments.

It had all been very childish, of course. Just a way to get more attention, really. Jaskier did not doubt that the drama of it all had helped both their numbers significantly. And then he had started neglecting his channel in favour of his academic career and dating life, and Valdo’s postings had dwindled down to a quick update or half a chorus of a ‘work-in-progress’ every other year or so.

And here he was. Out and proud, it seemed, and looking for ‘hook-ups and short-term dating’. He was not really Jaskier’s type, but then again, did he really know what his type was? And they had their love of music as well as a penchant for the dramatic in common. And shared some history. So why not give it a go? If nothing else happened, it would give him a chance to find out what had become of his old nemesis. He was kind of curious.

Valdo responded almost immediately to Jaskier’s message and they agreed to meet for drinks that same evening. Jaskier didn’t have any plans, so when Valdo suggested it, he figured there was no reason to put it off. 

Yennefer had taken off that morning, fuming about something work-related that Jaskier hadn’t really understood, and he didn’t want to risk directing any anger towards him if he disturbed her in the middle of something, so rather than call or text her, he wrote a note and left it next to the coffee maker. She’d be sure to find it there.

Then he showered, put on a nice but not too flashy outfit, and set off. This was going to be interesting.

…

It started off fine, with Valdo being almost too cordial, as if they were old chums reuniting after years apart, but Jaskier figured that was just the kind of guy he was. It fit well with the enthusiastic style of his music and high energy of his videos. He was flamboyant and loud, and Jaskier was glad they had gone to a noisy pub rather than a café or restaurant. He did not need this kind of attention.

They swapped stories about their songs and fans and caught up on each other’s lives. Valdo was working in marketing for some minor company downtown, but rather than bore Jaskier with the details, he kept asking about his life and job to the point where it almost felt like an interrogation.

Jaskier supposed he should feel flattered, but it was becoming a bit much and he was starting to think of ways he could cut the evening short. While Valdo was getting fresh drinks, Jaskier got out his phone, typing a quick text to Yennefer to see if she was home. He was about to hit send when he sensed movement behind him. Before he could turn around, Valdo sneaked an arm around Jaskier’s chest and rested his head on his shoulder. “Checking up on my latest video?” he purred and Jaskier almost dropped his phone.

“No… I…” he gasped, fighting the urge to twist away. No reason to cause a scene. Valdo didn’t mean any harm, he was just flirting. And getting a little drunk, judging by the slur in his words and the weight against Jaskier. “I… I was just checking up on my flatmate. It’s my turn to do the shopping and…”

“Awh…” Valdo slipped back into his chair, shifting his hand down to Jaskier’s thigh. “You have a buddy-system when you go on dates? That’s so sweet, but don’t you worry. You are safe with me.”

“Oh no, it’s nothing like that. Really.” Jaskier could feel himself blushing and hoped the light was too dim for Valdo to notice. He would no doubt find it cute. 

Valdo tipped his bottle towards Jaskier and, not knowing what else to do, he picked up his own and took a dutiful sip. He was starting to feel the alcohol and would have preferred a soda or maybe water, but he was sitting between Valdo and the wall and getting up to get something else would mean either asking him to move or push past him in a way that could all too easily be misunderstood. Better to stay put and firmly, but tactfully, make it clear that he was not interested.

A good plan, in theory, if not Valdo was so dense, either by nature or from drinking, that he just couldn’t take a hint. He kept shifting closer and, when Jaskier tried to dissuade him by flapping his hands excessively while speaking, Valdo instead caught one of them, trying to lace their fingers together.

“I…” Jaskier shot to his feet. “I have to use the restroom. Watch my beer?”

“Of course,” Valdo said with a smarmy grin, shifting a bit, but not really enough for Jaskier to get past him without pressing against his shoulder. “You know you can trust me.”

Jaskier wasn’t so sure about that and made a bold, highlighted mental note to not touch his drink when he got back. If he got back.

The restroom was small but looked relatively clean. He locked the door and then leaned against it, closing his eyes and trying to calm down. He was getting himself worked up over nothing. Valdo was just a guy being a guy. This was how men, well, some men, showed interest. He’d seen it plenty of times before. He’d even stepped in and helped out a girl or two when her date went too far. And been delightfully rewarded afterwards. 

It wasn’t like Valdo was going to force himself on Jaskier. And even if he might be capable of such a thing, it certainly wasn’t going to happen in the middle of a crowded pub. As long as Jaskier didn’t go anywhere else with him, it would be fine. He’d just go back in there and tell Valdo that something had come up and he had to leave. They hadn’t exchanged numbers or anything like that, and he could block him on the app. The worst Valdo could do was leave some slandering comments on Jaskier’s videos, but considering how old they were, he’d be looking like a petty loser.

It was fine. Jaskier could handle this. He was a big boy.

He splashed some water in his face, dried it off and checked his hair. Maybe he could even stop somewhere on the way home and get a drink. Or call Vespula and ask if he could drop by.

Jaskier unlocked the door and stepped out, finding himself immediately shoved up against the dark wall of the tiny corridor. 

“You were taking so long,” Valdo whined, leaning in so close Jaskier could feel his breath against his neck as he twisted his face up and away. “I realised you might be waiting for me.”

Jaskier was several inches taller than Valdo, but right now he felt ridiculously small and frail. He could hear himself whimper and, apparently, so did Valdo, because he pulled back, frowning at Jaskier.

“I guess I was wrong.”

The moment Valdo let go of his shoulder, Jaskier bolted, pushing his way through the crowd by the bar and practically stumbling out into the street.

He gasped for air and then turned and ran for the nearest corner.

Chapter Text

“Fuuuuuck!!!!”

Jaskier had made it all the way to the bus stop before realising that he had left his jacket back in the pub. His jacket along with his wallet. And his phone…

He could go back, of course, but what if Valdo was still there? And everybody had seen him storm off like a teenage drama queen. Nope, he was definitely not showing his face again tonight.

He would just have to… just have to… He looked around. Right! Geralt’s office was only a few blocks from here. If he was still at work, Jaskier could get him to drive him home. And if he wasn’t, then Jaskier could just let himself in and borrow the landline. If it was still working. Eskel had been talking about having it cancelled since they never really used it, but Geralt felt it would be ‘unprofessional’.

He actually kind of hoped Geralt wouldn’t be there. It wasn’t the first time he had come to him in need, but usually it involved having had to make a hasty retreat when a husband or boyfriend came home unexpectedly. This was different. He was still feeling more than a little shaken from the experience, though he was starting to realise that he had most definitely overreacted. 

Valdo had been interested in him. And he’d been more than a little drunk and was definitely getting ready to make a move. But the moment he had realised that Jaskier might not be on the same page, he had backed off.

And Jaskier had still run.

Well, he supposed that he finally had the answer he’d been looking for. He really wasn’t interested in men. Except maybe Geralt.

Maybe.

The windows were dark, so Jaskier let himself in, thankful that the code hadn’t been changed recently. He really liked the office. It was so different from the stuffy old rooms at the university. The main area was open and kept in off-white and tones of grey. There was a desk near the door from which Lambert would greet clients, and a sofa set and coffee table where they could sit and wait while having a tea or coffee. Eskel also used it for interviews sometimes, if the client was particularly nervous or upset. He said that the informal setting helped put people at ease. Otherwise they conducted meetings in the small conference room, next to which was the office Geralt and Eskel shared.

Jaskier had wondered, loudly and not very tactfully, why Lambert, who lacked Eskel’s civility as well as Geralt’s ability to keep his mouth shut, was chosen to be the first person clients would meet. Surely he would scare people away with his prickly attitude and crass sense of humour.

Geralt had stated that Lambert was the youngest so he got the crappy job, but Eskel had explained that he was actually very good at it. He could go head-to-head with testy clients, winning their grudging respect, but also be gentle or even charming when it was called for. And on the few occasions where he deemed a person undesirable, he would get rid of them in truly spectacular fashion.

By now, Jaskier had seen more sides of Lambert, of course, and knew that he wasn’t as bad as he had seemed at first. He just had a lot of pent-up emotions that he didn’t quite know what to do with.

Jaskier made his way over to Lambert’s desk by the faint light of the streetlamps outside the windows. No reason to arouse any suspicion from nosy neighbours or anything. The last thing he needed tonight was to have to explain himself to the police or, possibly worse, Geralt and the others.

Looking down at the phone, he had a moment of budding panic, before he remembered Yennefer’s number. It really was strange how fast things changed. In his childhood and youth he’d known at least six phone numbers by heart and carried around a small book where he had friends, family—and as he grew older, dates—alphabetised, with both numbers and little handy comments like birthdays and preferences. 

Now everything was in his phone and one of the only numbers he truly knew by heart was his own, and that was only from all the times he had written it on scraps of papers or bathroom mirrors before taking off.

Geralt had forced him to learn his number too. ‘Just in case’. He really didn’t trust Jaskier to take care of himself.

And luckily, he remembered Yennefer’s.

Not so luckily, she didn’t pick up her phone.

“Shit!”

“Huh?” 

Jaskier nearly fell off the edge of the desk where he had been perching. 

“Wh… What?” 

The crumpled blanket that had carelessly been left on the sofa shifted and then a tousled tuft of dark hair appeared, followed by two slitted eyes squinting at him.

“Jaskier?”

“Lambert? What are you doing here?”

Jaskier straightened up and tried to stop his hands from fidgeting. They wouldn’t listen.

“What am I doing here? I work here. What are you doing here?”

“Looks more like you were sleeping.”

“True.” Lambert sat up, yawned mightily and stretched. “But the sofa is just so comfortable and I was too tired to drive.”

“Right…”

As the blanket fell away, Jaskier studied him more closely, as close as he could in the dim light. Lambert’s hair was usually slicked back, enhancing his already significant widow’s peak. He hadn’t washed out the gel, or whatever product he was using, before going to sleep, so now, rather than be a little ruffled, it was a tangled, sticky mess, hanging down and almost covering his right eye. Jaskier hadn’t known it was that long.

It made him look softer. And, in spite of the streaks of grey in his short beard, younger.

And so did the stained white tee he was wearing. Jaskier had never seen him in anything but tight dark clothes and the change was almost confusing. It was like seeing somebody you knew in completely unexpected surroundings. Except this was practically the only place he’d ever seen Lambert, it was just that the man himself looked so… different.

“So, how about you?” Lambert asked after rubbing his eyes and trying to smoothe his hair back. “Are you looking for Geralt?”

Jaskier sighed. “No, not really. I just wanted to use the phone. To call Yennefer, but she’s not answering.”

“Oh!” Lambert raised his eyebrows. “She’s on a hot date?”

“No!” Jaskier huffed. “At least I don’t think so. Something was going on at work and she left in quite a huff, so I guess she’s still yelling at somebody.”

“Or shagging them.” Lambert groaned as he got to his feet. “Coffee?”

“Yeah, sure…” Jaskier followed him over to the tiny tea kitchen. “Why do you say that? Why would she shag somebody she’s mad at?”

Lambert shrugged as he turned on the light in the kitchen, squinting again. It made his nose wrinkle. It almost looked cute. “That’s how it usually was when she and Geralt were a thing. They’d yell at each other and sometimes even throw stuff and then they’d disappear for hours and come back all… well, y’know.”

Jaskier did not want to picture what his two best friends looked like after wild, hate/makeup sex. Especially not what Geralt looked like… And yet, here he was imagining just that.

“Are you okay?” Lambert had finished with the old, faulty coffee maker and turned to look at him more closely. “You look a little green.”

“I’m fine,” Jaskier said quickly, holding up his hands between them as Lambert took a step closer. “Just had a… a bad date.”

“Oh right… One of those.” Lambert chuckled and then turned to the cupboard to get some cups.

“Yeah.”

Lambert had no doubt heard from Geralt about Jaskier’s penchant for hopping into marriage beds where he didn’t belong. It had been a long time since he had done anything like that, but right now Jaskier had no problem letting him believe he’d been chased away by a jealous partner. Rather that than the truth.

“How about you? You don’t look like you’ve been working late?” He gestured to Lambert’s shirt. 

“No, I’ve been…” Was Lambert hesitating? Jaskier couldn’t see his face because he was rummaging through the tiny fridge. “I had a thing and…” He shrugged. “Milk?”

“Yes, please. Lots of it. And sugar if you have it.”

Lambert turned to give him a look. “You do know Geralt works here, right?”

…

“I would offer you a ride home, but I had a couple of beers earlier and…” 

“No, it’s okay.” Jaskier held up a hand to stop Lambert. “It’s not like I’m in distress or anything. I just… I was in a hurry and forgot my jacket. With my phone.”

“At… at someone’s place, or…?”

Jaskier laughed. “No. At the pub. The Alchemy.”

“Nice place.” Lambert nodded. “Why didn’t you just go back and get it?”

“That might have been… awkward.”

“I see.” Lambert checked his phone. “They’ve just closed, but I bet Stjepan is still there. Want to go check?”

“I can’t. I mean, I don’t want to bother him,” Jaskier protested. “I’ll just call tomorrow.”

“Nonsense. I know Stjepan. He won’t mind.” Lambert stood up. “Come on, let’s go.”

Jaskier gave in and soon they were on their way back through the now silent streets. 

“So… Your bad date?” Lambert began hesitantly. “Anything you want to… talk about?”

Wasn’t that just sweet? Lambert just kept surprising him. 

“No. Thank you, but…” Jaskier shrugged and smiled. “It was no big deal, just… We weren’t on the same page and I kind of freaked out.”

“Huh?” Lambert frowned as he glanced at Jaskier. “That’s not what I imagined. I thought you’d be up for pretty much anything.”

“Yeah…” Jaskier managed a laugh. “So did I.”

They stopped in front of the pub. 

“There’s no one here,” Jaskier insisted. “All the lights are out.”

“Nonsense. He’s in the back room.” Lambert stepped up to the door and banged on the glass so hard that Jaskier cringed. Wouldn’t an incident of vandalism just be the perfect way to end this trainwreck of a night?

“Oi! Stjepan!” Lambert roared. “Get your arse out here! I know you’re still here, watering the vodka!”

Immediately a light turned on and less than half a minute later, the lock was turned and the door opened. The bartender glared out at them. 

“Lambert! I’m going to kill you.”

“Relax.” Lambert laughed. “I just needed to get your attention. You see, my friend here left his stuff behind earlier tonight and he really needs his phone.”

Stjepan looked Jaskier up and down. “Yeah,” he said. “I remember you. Green jacket with a big flower on the back, right?”

Jaskier ignored Lambert’s grin and nodded. “Yeah, you have it?”

“Nope.” Stjepan shook his head, already closing the door again. “That other bloke took it with him when he left.”

Valdo had his jacket! His phone! And his wallet. With his ID! Valdo knew where he lived! Jaskier felt like he might throw up. But something was nagging him for attention. Something unusual. 

Silence.

Lambert wasn’t speaking.

Jaskier turned to him. “Are… Are you okay?”

Lambert opened his mouth, closed it and blinked a few times. Then he tried again. “Bloke?”

“Yeah…” Jaskier definitely did not squirm. “Just a friend. It’s fine. I’ll get my stuff from him tomorrow, I just…”

“Friend?” Lambert raised a single eyebrow (Jaskier really wished he could do that). “I thought you said you were on a date?”

Fuck!

“Oh yeah, I… did….” Really smooth. Nice work.

The silence after Lambert had called a cab for him was probably one of the most awkward in Jaskier’s entire life. But then again, he didn’t really do silences. Usually he wouldn’t be able to stop his mouth from just blabbering, making things even worse for himself.

Only, in this situation, he didn’t really know if things could get any worse. Not because he was embarrassed about dating a man, just… Like he’d told Yen, he really would prefer to tell people about that in his own time. When he was ready. When he knew what there even was to tell.

But now he had basically outed himself to Lambert. One of Geralt’s partners. And close friends. He was gonna tell Geralt and then…

What then? Jaskier couldn’t even make himself consider what would happen.

After Jaskier had given his address to the cabbie, Lambert paid for the ride and waved him off, neither of them saying anything beyond a quick ‘see ya’.

It wasn’t until Jaskier was climbing the stairs to their apartment that he realised that he could have just asked Lambert not to tell anyone. Lambert could be a bit of a bastard at times, but all in all he was a good guy. Hadn’t he proven that tonight? If Jaskier had asked him, surely he would have agreed not to talk about it.

He could even have told Lambert exactly what was going on (except the ‘dreaming about Geralt’ part) and he would probably have understood. Found it funny and maybe teased Jaskier a bit, but he would have been cool about it. 

Maybe it wasn’t too late.

Jaskier reached for his pocket before remembering he still didn’t have his phone. Fuck again! Why did the world hate him so much?

…

“Jaskier?”

Yen had barely gotten the door open before she was calling for him.

“In here!” he called, knowing she would hear him even through the layers of blankets and pillows he had hidden himself under after he had come home to a dark and empty flat last night.

“Oh, thank goodness!” Yennefer practically ran to him. “I was… I was worried about you. What happened?”

“I… nothing. Why?” He fought to untangle himself while also maintaining at least a shred of dignity. She helped him.

“I got your messages and couldn’t reach you. And then I met this guy downstairs. He was trying to work out the buzzer. To get to you. When I asked why, he gave me your jacket and asked me to tell you that… it’s… no big deal?” 

“What?” Jaskier managed to sit up and saw that Yennefer was indeed holding his jacket. He grabbed it from her and quickly extracted his phone and wallet from the pockets. Groaning with relief, he flopped back down on the bed. Valdo might indeed know where he lived now, but the fact that he had given the jacket to Yen rather than insist on coming up might just mean that he was going to leave Jaskier alone.

Yennefer cleared her throat. 

“So… Mind telling me what’s going on? Why did a stranger have your things?”

He tried fighting it, but of course she dragged the story out of him. Just the part until he’d fled the pub, that is. He vaguely mentioned running into someone he knew who lent him money for the cab and she was too focused on what had happened with Valdo to dwell on that.

“Oh, honey.” She stroked his hair soothingly. “That must have been awful. Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” he said, feeling the heat rise in his cheeks. “It really wasn’t a big deal. It was not like he forced himself on me or did anything bad, he just… He was just very interested in me and I was an idiot and ran, instead of being a fucking adult and telling him no.”

“Jaskier, you’re not an idiot.” She kissed his forehead.

“Yeah, I’m not sure I’m an adult either.”

“Never said you were.”

His phone had died and he didn’t get around to charging it before he’d taken a shower and had breakfast with Yen in front of the telly. 

He might have been postponing it a bit, dreading to find a message from Valdo. Or maybe he’d left some stupid pictures in it or something.

There was nothing from Valdo. 

He scrolled quickly through the messages and missed calls from Yen and then paused at an unfamiliar number. Two texts.

‘I was wondering if you might want to go out for a pint with me this Friday.’

‘This is Lambert btw. Got your number from Geralt. Hope you don’t mind.’

Chapter Text

‘Just remembered that you lost your phone…’
‘I’m an idiot.’
‘But I guess you won’t know that unless you have actually gotten it back. In which case I’m not an idiot.’
‘Did you get it back?’
‘I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to spam you like that.’
‘I’ll stop now.’
‘Sorry for being a creep.’
‘I’m not a creep.’
‘At least I try not to be’

Jaskier looked at his phone for the tenth time in half as many minutes. He had delayed answering Lambert’s first message and it only felt more awkward with each subsequent message. But he couldn’t just ignore him forever. Could he?
He could pretend he never got his phone back and get a new number. No, that was insane. First of all, that would be entirely too much trouble and secondly, it wasn’t like he didn’t want to see Lambert. 
Lambert had been really nice to him and he was fun to be around. And he really ought to have a talk with him about not telling Geralt about the thing.
He just wished he knew why Lambert wanted to meet. Was it just to hang out? Or maybe he wanted to talk about what had happened. He could be worried about Jaskier or just curious. Or… did he mean for it to be a date?
He had given Jaskier a really strange look when he found out his date had been a guy. Jaskier had assumed it was just a normal ‘I didn’t know you were gay’ kind of look, but maybe… If Lambert liked guys and he thought Jaskier did too, then he might want to hook up and…
Jaskier groaned. 
He needed to know more. He needed to talk to someone who knew Lambert better than he did.

...

Jaskier immediately regretted his choice.
“Lambert? Why do you want to know about him?”
“Nothing, just…” Jaskier shrugged innocently. “I’m just curious. Y’know, he’s Geralt’s friend and…”
“What did you do?”
“Nothing! Yen… Don’t give me that look, I didn’t do anything…” He sighed. “It’s just… It was Lambert who helped me get home last night and I…”
“Oh Jaskier.” Yennefer shook her head. “You should really stay away from that one. I know Geralt and Eskel trust him, but I think it’s more a question of loyalty than anything else. He’s… He’s bad news.”
Jaskier’s stomach dropped. This was not how he’d expected this conversation to go.
“What do you mean? Has he… has he done anything?”
Yennefer got abruptly up from the sofa. “I’m gonna need tea for this.”
“Oh wow… Is it that bad?”

It turned out that a couple of years ago, Yennefer had been staying with Geralt while her flat was being painted. During that time, Lambert had managed to play several pranks on her, including leaving some new scrambling device that he was ‘testing for Geralt’ behind the curtain in the extra room she was using as her temporary office. After spending three days raging that nobody was responding to her emails, Geralt had gotten suspicious and swept the room. 
Lambert claimed he had forgotten the device there, but Eskel had later told her that he must have sneaked in to charge it at least twice for it to have worked for so long.
She might have written that off as a prank, but then the very same night that the ‘mystery’ had been solved, Lambert had shown up with several bottles and an already tipsy Eskel. Yennefer had soon excused herself and left the boys to have their fun only to be woken up by loud voices from her office. She had walked in to find Lambert and Eskel in two of her best dresses, while Geralt had somehow squeezed into a pair of her tights. And not only that, but they were using her computer to facetime…
“No…”
“Yes.” Yennefer glared at her tea as if it, too, had had some part in the incident. “An elderly professor from Vizima that I had been exchanging data with for the past six months. Needless to say he broke off our collaboration.”
“Fuck! And you’re sure it was Lambert’s idea?”
“Of course it was Lambert’s idea. That’s just how he is. He does whatever he wants without caring about the consequences for others.”
“I see…”

…

After three days of awkward messages and even more awkward silences, Jaskier finally worked up his nerve and texted back:
‘I got my phone back. Thank you for helping me. I would love to meet. Just name the time and place.’
He hit send and immediately regretted it.
He still had no idea why Lambert wanted to meet. If it was just to hang out. Or a date? Or maybe he was up to something? Like the pranks Yennefer had told him about.
Maybe he was hoping Jaskier would make a fool of himself. Or he would stand him up. Or… Jaskier groaned at the thought. Bring Geralt there so they could laugh at him together.
Could anybody be that cruel?
How well did he even know Lambert?
He should just ask Geralt, but that would either mean coming clean or lying to his friend, and somehow Geralt could always tell if he wasn’t being honest.
No, he would just have to take the risk. Show up, expecting nothing but a beer and a chat and be prepared for shenanigans.
But still, no harm in looking good. Just to feel more confident, and maybe he’d drop by Vespula’s place after. He hadn’t been to see her in over a week and though she wasn’t texting him as excessively as Lambert, he was getting the distinct feeling that she was not pleased.
He didn’t recognise the name or the address Lambert had sent but assumed it must be some new pub he just hadn’t heard about yet.
It wasn’t. 
It was a cute small restaurant right by the Novigrad Gate with the most amazing view over the river. 
Lambert was waiting for him outside, looking more groomed and neat, in a sleek leather jacket and black button-up, than Jaskier had ever seen him before. And more nervous.
“I… I asked for a table on the terrace,” he muttered, opening the door for Jaskier. “Is that okay or would you rather sit inside?”
“It… It’s fine.” 
“Good.”
It was not just fine, it was lovely. This was, Jaskier concluded, most definitely a date.
And, of course, he found himself utterly incapable of carrying anything even remotely resembling a normal conversation. Lambert, it seemed, was no better off.
“So… You got your phone back?”
“Yes… And my jacket.”
“Good.”
The waiter came to take their orders.
“So… How is work?”
“Busy… Geralt is on a new client and Eskel will be going to Vengerberg for a trade show.”
“Cool.”
“Yeah.”
The waiter brought them their wine and a pitcher of water.
“This is a nice place.”
“Yes. Keira recommended it.”
“Who?”
“A friend.”
“Oh.”
Jaskier was finding it harder and harder to sit still. He had never felt so uncomfortable in his whole life. Okay, he probably had, but not that he could remember. This had been a huge mistake.
Luckily, destiny—or chance—intervened.
“We have been coming here for years and I have never been treated so disgracefully!”
Jaskier looked over at the table next to theirs, where two women were staring down the surprisingly composed waiter. The one who had spoken was flapping her hands about as if to indicate whatever horrible slight they had been subjected to.
“Ma’am,” the waiter said calmly, her hands clasped behind her back as she looked at a spot slightly above the woman’s head. “You ordered the Gołąbki. It said quite clearly in the menu that it was made with barley and pork.”
“That is ridiculous! I always use beef! I never eat pork!”
“We want to speak to the manager,” the other woman added.
The waiter was obviously fighting the urge to roll her eyes and Jaskier felt genuinely sorry for her, wondering if he could help diffuse the situation.
“Been coming here for years, have you?” Lambert asked, leaning over with a surprisingly charming smile.
“Yes, we have,” the first woman said, turning to him. “I really expected to be treated better, I…”
“That’s funny,” Lambert said, still smiling. “I could have sworn that this was a chess club two months ago.” He shrugged. “Funny how the mind can play tricks on you, isn’t it?”
Both women gaped at him. Then the one who had demanded to see the manager jumped to her feet, so quickly her chair toppled over and hit the floor with a resounding crash. 
“We’re leaving!” she declared.
“Of course.” The waiter did her own dazzling version of Lambert’s smile. “If you’ll just come with me to the bar, we can settle your check and get you on your way.” 
She winked at Lambert as she followed the fuming women.
“That was…” Jaskier stared at Lambert whose shoulders were drawing in as his smile faded. 
“Yeah… Sorry about that. I didn’t mean to be rude, I just… I’ve done some waitering in my youth and…”
“No, Lambert!” Jaskier reached across the table to grab his hand. “That was brilliant. You were brilliant. I wish I’d had the brains to pull something like that. I…” He giggled. “I would probably just have told them they were stupid cows and made everything worse.”
Lambert relaxed visibly and smiled, more shyly this time, as he gave Jaskier’s hand a squeeze. “Thank you.”
Jaskier was about to respond when the waiter returned and he quickly pulled his hand back. She was beaming at them as she put down the dishes they had ordered. The plates looked unusually full. 
“It’s on the house,” she said before refilling their glasses and returning to the kitchen.

…

“It was a shame you didn’t want dessert,” Lambert said as he helped Jaskier into his jacket.
“I’m sorry, I just couldn’t eat another bite.” Jaskier suppressed a belch. “I swear she’d doubled our portions. That little minx.”
Lambert chuckled and held the door for him as they left. 
“We must go another time. Their Chrusciki are amazing. I always end up eating too many.”
“Always?” Jaskier frowned. “You can’t have had that many if they’ve been open less than two months.”
“Oh, that…” Lambert squirmed a little. “The chess club is on the other side of the river. Over there.” He pointed.
“You lied!” Jaskier was impressed. “But… How did you know they wouldn’t call you out on it? That they weren’t actually regulars?”
“Did they look like regulars?”
Jaskier considered, then shook his head. “I guess not. But still… That was kinda… cool.” Cool didn’t really cover how he felt about what Lambert had done, but if he didn’t hold himself back, he’d have written a whole ballad about it before he got home. The Defender of the Service Industry Workers!
“Well, noticing inconsistencies and acting on them quickly is sort of part of my job,” Lambert muttered, seeming uncomfortable with Jaskier’s praise. “Geralt and Eskel have been beating it into me for years, so it would be kind of embarrassing if I couldn’t spot a pair of amateur con-women looking for a free meal.”
“You were brilliant.” 
Lambert was blushing adorably by now and before he could change his mind, Jaskier leaned in to kiss his cheek. Only afterwards did he realise that they were holding hands again. That was odd. He couldn’t remember taking Lambert’s hand.
They strolled past Jaskier’s bus stop, down towards the square in comfortable silence. Then Jaskier spotted a pub—not The Alchemy—and suggested they get a drink. Lambert agreed and they found themselves a table in the corner by the window where they could see the city lights turning on as darkness settled. 
Jaskier was vaguely aware that he was playing with Lambert’s fingers where their hands met on the table, but he was too engrossed in the funny story he was telling about one time Geralt and Eskel had gotten into some silly competition to care. 
It was a perfect night.
When he finally did get onto his bus, Lambert caught his wrist and pulled him down so he could give him a quick peck on the lips, ignoring the huffing busdriver, before letting him go. It felt like the most natural thing in the world.

Chapter Text

“Yes, that sounds right…”

The room was silent. Too silent. Jaskier tore his gaze away from the blue sky outside the window and made himself focus on the auditorium full of students, who were all staring at him as if he’d sprouted an extra head.

“Uhm… I’m sorry…” He cleared his throat. Somebody had been talking and he might have answered, but he had no idea what had been said. “Could you repeat the question?”

There were entirely too many stifled giggles. 

“I just wanted to know,” said a young man in the front row, “if the paper on ‘Onomatopoeia in the Classics’ is due on Friday? Since you rescheduled the lecture to next Wednesday, wouldn’t it make sense to move the deadline too?”

Jaskier had indeed shuffled around the order of the lectures, but only because he’d been too distracted by his second date with Lambert to focus on reading up on a subject he hadn’t taught in years, while he was so familiar with ‘Alliteration and Assonance in Modern Sonnets’ that he could teach it in his sleep. At least he hoped he could, considering the lecture was coming to an end and he had definitely not been present in anything but body.

He glanced up at the scribbles on the board. It seemed about right.

Jaskier turned back to his students and saw they were still watching him expectantly. 

“Oh, yes… Yes, let’s push it back… two weeks.” He was not going to have time to correct anything this weekend. He was taking Lambert to a concert. And dinner.

The students cheered and Jaskier found himself beaming at them. He was happy, so they should be too.

“And I’m lowering the required word count to… 500 words.”

The ensuing pandemonium had three other professors looking in to see if everything was okay.

…

“So things with Vespula are going well?” Yennefer smirked as she watched Jaskier whistling and wriggling his way around the kitchen while cooking. “Or has Anne Louise’s schedule finally cleared up?”

“What do you mean?” Jaskier nudged her out of the way so he could open the cupboard.

“You’re in an awfully good mood. Not just the ‘I’m having sex again’ mood, but the…” She pursed her lips in thought. “Actually, I’ve never seen you in this kind of mood before. What’s up with you?”

“Can’t a guy be happy without anything being ‘up’?” Jaskier asked, returning to the stove to stir the pot of… whatever it was he was putting together. He didn’t know what to call it, but it was smelling good so far. Just needed a few pinches of salt and…

“There! Perfect!” He raised the tasting spoon to his lips and sighed with contentment. “You’re going to love this.”

“And you’re evading the question. Are you writing a new song? Found a new restaurant?”

“No, I’m…” It would be so easy to lie. He didn’t want to tell her, because… Because of how she felt about Lambert. And because it was all so new and he didn’t really know how he felt about Lambert right now, and…

But she was his best friend. Besides Geralt at least, and things were complicated with him right now and… 

He needed to talk about this and there was nobody else to talk to, and…

He couldn’t lie to Yennefer.

“I’m seeing someone. Someone new.”

The silence was agonising.

“You’re… you’re seeing someone?”

“Yes…”

“And?”

“It’s a guy…”

Yennefer’s incredulous stare slowly gave way to a soft smile.

“And you really like him.”

“I do, I…” The tightness that had been slowly forming in his chest, hidden behind the thrill and joy of the past week, suddenly solidified and came down with a solid ‘thunk’, squashing all the butterflies that had taken up residence in his stomach. 

“Oh, honey.” Yennefer was at his side, steadying him. “It’s okay. You’re allowed to like a guy. Even if it isn’t Geralt, y’know.”

“It’s not that, I…” Jaskier had to force words out of a suddenly cramped throat. “What if I’m falling in love with him? What if it’s all just been a lie?”

“Oh.”

Yennefer helped him to a chair and then got him a glass of water, waiting patiently for him to get his breathing back under control.

“Would it be so bad? Really?”

“Yes!” 

She barely stopped him from slamming the hand that was still holding the half-full glass down on the table. 

“Yes,” he said more calmly, letting her relieve him of the glass and take his trembling hands in hers. “Yes, I think it would. I mean, that’s our thing. We don’t fall in love. Not like that. You and I. It’s what makes us so good together. Makes us right. I don’t want to… I can’t lose that.”

“Shh, darling.” She raised his hands up and kissed his fingers. “You’re not losing anything. I’m not going anywhere. We can still be like this even if you have a boyfriend. Even if you love him.”

He sniffed. “But I would feel like a fake. Like I’d been lying all this time.”

“You were never lying, Jaskier,” she assured him. “You told me who you were and how you felt. Truthfully. You might just be learning something new about yourself now, or… You might be changing. Growing. It happens, you know. These things aren’t fixed.”

“I guess.” 

He sniffed again, and she let go of his hands, only to crawl into his lap and wrap her arms around him.

She held him like that for a long time.

“Anyway,” he said finally. “I’m not sure I’m in love with him. I mean, how would I know, right? How can I recognise a feeling I’ve never had before?”

“People usually say that you’ll know it when you feel it.”

“Yeah, well, people are idiots.”

They both had a good laugh.

…

After the concert, they strolled home along the river hand in hand. Jaskier was pleased, almost proud, to realise that he couldn’t care less who saw them together. He’d happily let the whole world know that he was with a man. That he was with Lambert. Well, the whole world, except maybe Geralt…

He would prefer to wait a bit before telling Geralt.

“Is something wrong?”

They had stopped walking and Lambert had turned to him, his forehead wrinkling in the cutest frown Jaskier had ever seen. 

“Nothing whatsoever.” He leaned in and kissed Lambert softly. “Everything is perfect.”

Lambert pulled him in for another kiss that lasted a lot longer and went quite a bit further than anything they had shared before.

“Wow,” Jaskier gasped breathlessly as they pulled apart.

“Yeah,” Lambert agreed.

They both glanced over to a nearby bench, partly hidden by a large flowery bush and, giggling, hurried over, almost falling in their rush to get their hands and lips on each other.

Jaskier had not made out like this since he was a teenager. And definitely not somewhere as public as this. But Lambert’s lips were so soft, his tongue so wicked, and his fingers, as they stole their way up under Jaskier’s shirt, were lighting up his skin with a fire that would surely consume him.

He lost all sense of place and time. There was just him and Lambert and the wonderful sensations they were creating together.

But their positions on the bench weren’t ideal and clothes kept getting in the way. Eventually they slowed down and finally stopped, sharing a few last lingering kisses as if reluctant to let go.

“Oh Jaskier…” Lambert’s voice was thick and rough as he pulled him against his side. “You are… You have no idea what you do to me.”

“I think I might have.” Jaskier let out a small giggle. “An inkling of an idea, anyway.”

…

“Yennefer! Yennefer, wake up, please!”

“What… Jaskier, do you have any idea what time it is?”

“Middle of the night, I know. Yennefer, I’m sorry. I… I need to talk to you, I…”

“Okay, calm down. Deep breaths, don’t cry. You know you can’t talk when you’re crying. Come on. Get in the bed, keep those icy toes away from me and tell me what is wrong. Was it another dream?”

“No…” He sniffed and snuggled closer to her, burying his face in the soft comforter. “I… I realised something.”

“What?”

“That I’m the worst kind of arsehole this world has ever known. Don’t laugh. I mean it. I’m horrible.”

“Sorry, it’s just… I’m not disagreeing, but tell me, please. Why are you so bad?”

“Because… You know this guy I’m dating?”

She nodded.

“Well, things are going really well and I think… I think he may be falling for me, and…”

“Is that bad?”

“Yes! Because… I’ve thought a lot about it and… I don’t think I’m in love with him. I mean… I know I’m not in love with him. Not love-love. Not… not with him.”

She waited for him to continue.

“I like being with him and… I like… I love the way he makes me feel. Both when we’re together and when I’m looking forward to seeing him again, but… It’s not like… It’s not about him . I think I’m in love with being loved… Not… not the person doing the loving.”

“I see.”

He endured the silence for almost two minutes.

“Say something! Tell me what a bastard I am!”

“Why, exactly, do you think this makes you a bastard?”

“Because I’m using him. I’m just… stringing him along and he thinks we’re falling in love and I’m just a selfish prick who’s exploiting him for my own pleasure.”

Yennefer sighed. “Right, we’re not getting any sleep tonight. Go make me some tea.”

“Yen…”

“Tea! Now!”

Once they were settled on the sofa, feet together under a soft blanket, she cradled her cup in her hands, sniffed it and then looked him in the eyes.

“These things you told me, when did you realise them?”

“Just now. Tonight.” He bit his lip before continuing. “I was in the shower thinking about our date and… well, thinking, and then I realised. I wasn’t thinking about being with him . I was picturing… No, not Geralt, you can stop that. I wasn’t picturing anybody specific, just a handsome man kissing me. Touching me.”

“Too many details.”

“Right, sorry. Anyway, that’s how it started, and I tried to brush it off and just go to bed, but I can’t stop thinking about it. I’m such a horrible person. I… I need to break it off, I need to stop hurting him, I…”

“Shit, Jaskier.” Yen put her cup down and handed him the box of tissues she had, quite sensibly, brought along. “Why end it if it’s making you both happy?”

“Because it’s based on a lie.”

“You didn’t lie to him. You only just realised yourself, and I’m assuming you didn’t talk to him before waking me up.”

“Of course not.”

“So, that’s out of the way. You couldn’t have lied to him, because you didn’t know.”

“I guess, but…”

“But now you have to talk to him, of course. Even if you end up breaking up, you still owe him that, don’t you think? An explanation?”

“And what am I going to say, huh? It’s not like we’re at a point where we’d start talking about love, even if we were… if I was normal.”

“Stop that! You are normal!” Yennefer closed her eyes and took a deep breath. “Sorry, didn’t mean to shout at you, I know what you mean, it’s just… Just because you’re different than the majority doesn't mean you're wrong.”

“I know.”

“And I’m sorry this has to be so messy for you, but if you’re gonna keep dating, things like this are bound to happen from time to time. Surely you’ve had lovers fall for you before.”

“Yeah, but that was different, because I… Well, I didn’t know .”

“Know what?”

“That I’m…” he gestured at himself in despair. How was he going to tell Lambert something that he didn’t even know how to explain to himself?

“There is a word for it, y’know.” Yennefer reached for her tea.

Chapter Text

Chapter 6

‘Yeah, so have you ever heard of this thing called…’

‘By the way, Lambert, I’m aro. So…’

‘Not to be presumptuous, but I kind of caught a vibe that maybe you were starting to fall for me and…’

Jaskier groaned, drawing several scandalised looks from the other passengers.

‘We should talk…’

Had he not been on a bus, he would probably have thrown himself to the floor and rolled around in agony. Or maybe kicked something.

For now, he had to settle on slowly strangling the newspaper somebody had left on the seat next to his, hoping that it was as clean as it looked.

At first he had wanted to put it all in a text, because that would give him time to word things right and he wouldn’t have to actually look at Lambert’s reaction, but Yennefer had vetoed that. And given him several very excellent reasons why something like that would make him a strong contender for the title of world’s largest asshole. Jaskier briefly wondered if she’d think the same if she knew who he would have been texting.

He had tried writing it down anyway, so that he could rehearse what he was going to say before having the actual conversation, but nothing sounded right. Which meant that now, he was ten minutes away from his fourth date with Lambert and he still had no idea how to tell him. Or what to tell him exactly.

Because what did he owe him, really? Jaskier was barely ‘out’ to himself—if you could call it coming out with something like this—and now he was going to expose his fragile, budding identity to some guy he’d been on a few dates with.

He’d actually tried slapping himself for that thought.

Lambert was not just ‘some guy’. He was Geralt and Eskel’s friend. Jaskier had known him for years. And over the past few weeks he’d come to know a new side of him. He was funny. Sweet. Smart. And he made Jaskier feel good in all kinds of ways. So what if he wasn’t going to fall in love with him? That wasn’t Lambert’s fault. He deserved to be treated with the same respect and consideration that any partner would owe him. Even after just a couple of dates. A couple of amazing, and increasingly hot dates.

…

“A farthing for your thoughts.”

“Huh?” Jaskier looked up from the tea he’d been stirring mechanically for the past ten minutes. “Oh, right… Sorry. I’m just… I’ve got a lot on my mind.”

“I kind of noticed.” Lambert reached across the small table and gave Jaskier’s wrist a squeeze. “You have hardly said a word since we got here. You didn’t even laugh when the barista called me Larry.”

Jaskier forced himself to grin. He had, if truth be told, not even noticed at the time. Nor been able to catch more than snippets of what Lambert had been talking about for the past half hour.

“I’m sorry…” he began, but Lambert stopped him.

“Let’s get out of here. If you want to talk, we can talk. If not, we can just… walk?”

“I’d like that.”

They had gone almost two blocks before Jaskier realised what was wrong. Lambert hadn’t taken his hand. 

He glanced over and saw him chewing his lip, looking nervous, almost scared.

Shit! 

Of course he was picking up on Jaskier’s mood. He probably thought he was going to break up with him. And he wasn’t completely wrong. Was he?

Jaskier reached over, pulling Lambert’s hand out of his pocket and twining their fingers together. “I do want to talk,” he said softly. “But… maybe not here.”

Lambert took a deep breath as he squeezed his hand. “Okay… Uhm… Would my place be weird or…?”

“No,” Jaskier said quickly. “That would be fine.” Then Lambert could have the satisfaction of kicking him out. He could at least give him that.

…

The place was small and cluttered, but clean and surprisingly cosy. Lambert shifted from foot to foot as he watched Jaskier take it all in and then reached for his jacket. 

“Thank you.” Jaskier gave it to him and then moved over to sit on the sofa.

Lambert hung their jackets, disappeared into the kitchen and soon returned with two cans of soda. “It’s all I’ve got,” he said, holding them up. “If I knew we were gonna end up here, I’d have gotten something…”

“It’s fine.” Jaskier couldn’t help beam at him. Lambert could be so precious at times. “Come here,” he added when he realised Lambert was considering where he should sit. He patted the sofa next to him.

The silence wasn’t long, but it was definitely uncomfortable. 

“I know I said I wanted to talk, but… can I kiss you first?”

Fuck! What was he doing? He was supposed to let Lambert go, not cling to him.

All thoughts of throttling himself evaporated the second Lambert’s lips found his. Why did it feel so good? Why did he have to give this up just because he was…? ‘No, Yen, I’m not calling myself broken, but…’ How was this fair?

“Lambert…” he gasped, breaking the kiss before things could go further. “I…” Lambert’s cheeks were rosy, his dark hair a mess and his eyes were… Was he crying?

“It’s okay,” Lambert muttered, looking away. “I understand. I’m not…”

“No, stop.” Jaskier grasped Lambert’s chin and made him face him again. “I’m not breaking up with you, I…” He wasn’t? Then what was he doing here? “I just… I have to be honest with you, I…”

He bit his lip. What the hell was he going to say? Now a script would have been great.

“I’ve never been with a man before. Like… y’know… sex…”

The world seemed frozen for several long seconds. Then Lambert laughed.

“Fucking hell, Jaskier, you scared the shit out of me there. Nearly gave me a heart attack. Don’t you ever do something like that again.”

That was not how this was supposed to go. What the hell kind of a reveal was that? How was he going to get to the actual issue now?

Lambert was stroking his cheek tenderly. “It’s fine,” he said, smiling. “We don’t have to do anything like that before you’re ready. We don’t ever have to, if…”

“No, that’s the thing,” Jaskier cut in, seeing a possible angle. “I… I only started dating men because I was curious. To see if it was even a thing I would like. It was just supposed to be a couple of casual encounters, but then…”

“Then I came crashing in and… swept you off your feet?”

Lambert cocked his head and Jaskier could feel himself blushing. His mouth opened, closed, then opened again, but no words came out.

Lambert’s face did a strange thing, but before Jaskier could react, he shook his head and grinned. “Sorry. I’m just messing with you. Fuck… Don’t take it all so seriously, Jask.”

“I…” he managed. What was Lambert saying? That it was just casual for him too? That he wasn’t expecting anything except a good time? But… he’d just said they didn’t have to… and… Why was it making Jaskier feel so crappy? Wasn’t this the best possible outcome? “Okay?”

“It really is fine,” Lambert said, lowering his hand to rest it on Jaskier’s shoulder. “I’m all good  with just being your little… experiment… I’ve been having a great time and it’s kind of flattering that you’d trust me with something like this. And… find me… hot?”

“Oh, I definitely do,” Jaskier said quickly, ignoring the slowly growing pit in his stomach. “I mean, why wouldn’t I? If I turn out to have a type in men, you’d definitely be it.”

“Oh wow, you’re turning on the charm,” Lambert teased, leaning in and kissing his cheek, then moving down to his neck, sucking and nibbling lightly at the sensitive skin. “Hoping to get lucky?”

Okay, this was definitely not where he’d seen this date going, but why not? That was the purpose of this whole endeavour, right? To try sex with a man, to see if he liked it.

“Maybe,” he purred, turning so he could get both hands on Lambert’s body. He could feel his nipples through the thin cotton, much smaller than a woman’s, pert and round against his wide, firm chest.

“May I…” Jaskier’s voice came out almost as a moan as Lambert had moved up to suck on his earlobe. “Can I… take off your shirt?”

“Of course you can.” Lambert pulled back just enough for Jaskier to get a hold of the fabric and jank it over his head, probably tearing a seam in the process. 

Guessing his intent, Lambert leaned back and, tangling his hand in Jaskier’s hair, gave him a crooked grin. “Go ahead,” he said, closing his eyes. “I’m all yours.”

Jaskier took his time just taking in the view. Lambert was beautiful. Well muscled but not excessively so, a dusting of dark hair covering his chest and then narrowing down towards his… waist. He had a few scars, but they did nothing to mar his appearance, quite the opposite. 

Jaskier reached out to touch a large one running down from his left collarbone, disappearing around his side. “May I?” he asked.

Lambert opened one eye to see what he meant, then nodded. “They’re part of me. I’m not ashamed of them.”

Gently, Jaskier let his finger trail down the uneven skin, only stopping when Lambert suddenly twitched.

“Sorry.” He grinned. “That tickles. Maybe stick to the front?”

“Right.” Jaskier was glad Lambert couldn’t see him blushing. He was getting off course anyway. There was a reason he’d wanted Lambert’s shirt off. Two reasons actually, and there they were. Peaking out at him, perfectly round and lightly brown, surrounded by pale skin and dark hair. He licked his lips as he leaned in, pressing a soft kiss just above the left nipple.

“Fuck…” Lambert breathed. “You’re such a tease. I love it.”

Jaskier giggled and slapped Lambert’s thigh lightly before giving in and finally letting himself get a taste. 

He lost track of time, playing with Lambert’s nipples, sucking and biting them by turn, flicking them with his tongue and letting them brush over his lips and cheeks. At some point the position got uncomfortable and with Lambert’s permission, he shifted to straddle his lap, which also made it a lot easier to move up and steal the occasional kiss. 

He noticed Lambert’s hands hovering awkwardly by his legs and, with only a slight flutter of nerves, took them and moved them up to rest on his thighs.

Lambert looked up at him and the question in his eyes was clear.

Jaskier nodded. “Yes, please…” he managed, before he just had to lean in and kiss the awed smile off Lambert’s lips. He’d made the right choice. His first time should be with Lambert. It could never have been with anybody else.

The kiss deepened and as Lambert’s hands moved up to Jaskier’s hips and then, very slowly around to grasp his arse, Jaskier felt himself growing hard, his jeans starting to feel very uncomfortable. 

This was really happening, he was going to…

Lambert’s tongue did something positively wicked and Jaskier’s body responded, his hips rolling forward, his erection brushing against…

He almost hit his head on the coffee table as he tumbled to the floor. 

“Jaskier,” Lambert scrambled after him. “What happened? Did I…?”

“It… It’s fine,” Jaskier heard himself say, even as he crawled backwards, staggering to his feet. “I just… I need…”

Somehow he managed to grab his jacket from the peg by the door before bolting out, miraculously making it down the stairs without breaking anything.

Chapter Text

“Jaskier, are you okay? Did something happen?”

“Go away!”

“Jaskier, talk to me, please. You’ve been in there for hours. I know something’s wrong. Is it that guy you’re seeing? You told him and… he didn’t take it well?”

“No! Please, Yen. Just… just leave me alone.”

“So you can wallow in self-pity? Fat chance. Open the door, Jaskier. Now!”

“Please, Jaskier. I’m sorry I yelled, but I worry about you. I know how you get lost in your own head and… sometimes you make things worse than they are. Don’t you think that maybe if you told me, we could figure things out? Maybe it’s not so bad.”

“At least eat something, Jaskier.”

…

After stewing in his misery for most of the day, he had finally drifted off when a soft knock on the door woke him up. 

“I told you to leave me alone!” he snarled, glaring as if Yen could see him through the wood. 

“I’m sorry, Jaskier. It’s just… Someone’s here to see you and… I think you need to talk to him.”

Fuck!

“Jaskier? Did you hear me?”

“Yes, I… Fine… I’ll be out, just give me a minute. And, Yen…”

“Don’t worry, I’m leaving.”

“Thanks.”

Lambert looked lost and strangely small, sitting on the sofa, his hands clasped between his thighs, chewing nervously on his lower lip.

Jaskier paused in the door to look at him. Lambert was wearing his usual work clothes, tight and dark. But they had a rumpled look to them. The buttons of the shirt were crooked and one pant leg was tucked into the boot while the other hung loose. He had dark circles around his eyes, which looked red and slightly swollen. 

In short, he looked about as bad as Jaskier felt.

Jaskier cleared his throat and Lambert all but jumped off the sofa.

“Hi…”

“Jaskier…” Lambert twitched as if he had to stop himself from getting up or maybe reaching for Jaskier, even though he was on the other side of the room. “I… Are you okay?”

Jaskier sighed. He had been a coward, running away and then not getting in touch to apologise. But Lambert hadn’t tried to call him either, so Jaskier had figured he had either just given up on him or was too angry to want to talk. 

He didn’t look angry.

“I’m fine. You?”

“I… I’m so fucking sorry.” This time Lambert did get up, but didn’t approach Jaskier as he stood wringing his hands, his eyes flicking around the room as if looking for danger. Or ways to escape.

“ You’re sorry?” Jaskier could feel his eyes widening in surprise. “What do you have to be sorry for?”

“For all of it.” Lambert made a sort of shrug. “For pushing you, for moving too fast. I knew you weren’t completely sure and I… I’m so sorry.”

“No…” Jaskier couldn’t stop himself from darting across the floor to grab Lambert’s hands in his. “No, you did nothing wrong. If anything, I was the one moving too fast. I mean, you just sat there letting me use you, and…” He giggled hysterically. “You were perfect. And I wanted you, I just…  I guess there was a part of you that I…”

“... didn’t want.” Lambert’s smile was surprisingly warm.

“No… I mean, yeah… Maybe?”

“Oh, Jaskier.” Lambert raised their joined hands up so he could kiss Jaskier’s knuckles. “You didn’t have to run away. I would never have forced you to do anything you didn’t want.”

“I know, I… I wasn’t running from you, I was… I was just so embarrassed. And mad at myself. I… I’m sorry, Lambert. It was a shitty thing to do and even worse for not checking in if you were okay. I’m just… I’m a selfish prick. I’m the worst.”

“You’re not the worst, you’re just a bit…” 

“Dramatic?”

“Yes?” Lambert squirmed and smiled sheepishly, then quickly added: “And I love that about you, I…” He gasped. “I mean, I… I like that. I… I like you.”

He seemed to wilt and Jaskier’s heart gave a twinge. “I like you too. I really do. I just… I don’t think I can give you what you deserve.”

“Oh, I don’t care about that.” Lambert spoke so quickly he almost stumbled over the words. “I truly don’t. If you never want to have sex with me, that’s perfectly okay, just… I don’t want to lose you. Please?”

This was the moment. It was now or never. Either send Lambert away, maybe with a broken heart, or come clean.

“I think we should sit down,” Jaskier said, turning them to settle on the sofa. “There’s something I need to tell you.”

Lambert nodded and slumped down, preparing himself to get dumped. Again.

When Jaskier and Yennefer had their long talks on the sofa, they’d sit at each end, leaning on the armrests with their feet joined together in the middle, usually under a blanket. He wasn’t sure how he should sit with Lambert. On the one hand, he didn’t want to put any space between them, because that would surely make Lambert even more convinced he was rejecting him, but also because he wanted to be close. To feel Lambert. But on the other hand, he wanted to be able to look Lambert in the eyes when he told him.

He settled for twisting slightly, folding one leg up on the sofa between them. Lambert matched him, though moving more stiffly, clearly not used to Jaskier’s chaotic use of furniture.

Jaskier took a deep breath. “I… I told you I’m trying to figure out my attraction to men, whether I might be… bi…”

“Yes.” Lambert nodded. “And just for the record, I think you can still be bi without wanting to, y’know, go all the way with a guy.”

“Huh?” Jaskier’s mind tried to latch onto this novel concept, but he forced it back on track. “Maybe, but… that’s not the only thing I should have told you. I’m…” He had to pause and close his eyes. Saying it, to anyone but Yen, would make it real. Was he ready for that?

He had to be. Because if anyone deserved to know this, it was Lambert. If Jaskier was ever going to tell anyone, it had to be now.

“I… I think I’m… No, I’m pretty sure that I am… that I’m…”

Lambert held up a hand to shush him. “It’s okay, Jaskier. You don’t have to tell me. Not if you’re not ready. If you’re not sure.”

“But I do have to tell you,” Jaskier protested. “I mean… I want to tell you. It’s just… It’s not easy.”

“Oh, don’t I know it.” Lambert chuckled sadly. “So, take your time. Is there anything I can do? Do you need some water? Tea?”

Tea would be lovely, actually… “No, I need to say this. I… I’m aromantic. I think…”

The silence was deafening.

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

Another long silence. 

“So I really was just… just an experiment? It was only about the sex?”

Yes. That was what the whole ‘dating guys’ thing had been about. To figure out if he was attracted to Geralt or just having some sort of weird obsession. He only wanted something casual. A friends-with-possible-benefits kind of thing.

Lambert had looked away. He sniffed. His shoulders were trembling.

“No!” Jaskier cried out, shuffling onto his knees so he could move closer, grabbing hold of Lambert’s shoulder. “No. I mean, it may have started out that way, but I… I liked being with you. The dates, the talks and the… I really like kissing you.”

“But you’re not in love with me?”

“No, I’m sorry. I’m not. I don’t feel that way about anyone. I never have.”

“I see.” Lambert sniffed again and wiped his nose angrily with his sleeve. “I guess I should go then.”

“No!” Jaskier almost screamed. “I mean… Please don’t, I… I may not love you like that , but… I…” If he said this, would it make him the biggest arsehole on the continent? Probably, but how could he not? 

“I don’t want to lose you.”

Lambert, who had been getting ready to stand up, froze. “What?” He turned to face Jaskier again, his face streaked from tears, his lips trembling. “I don’t understand.”

Jaskier wanted to hold him so bad. Wanted to kiss him and wipe the tears away. But it was not his place. Not anymore.

“I… I don’t want you to go.”

Lambert’s eyes flashed with sudden anger. “Why the fuck not? What more could you want from me? You don’t want to fuck me, you don’t want to love me, you…”

“I never said that!” Jaskier snapped back. “There are other ways of loving people. I love Yennefer. I love… I love Geralt.”

“As friends!” Lambert sneered. “Yeah, I’ve heard that one plenty of times before.”

“No!” Jaskier could feel anger starting to rise within him too. “Not ‘just’ friends. That’s not what I’m saying. Not the way you mean it, anyway. To me, my friends are everything. The closest relationships I’ve ever had, and still…” He had to pause to sort his thoughts. He didn’t know what the words meant, but he felt like he had to say them. “And still I… I want you… I want us to be more than friends.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Yeah, well, neither do I.” Tears welled up into his eyes. “I just know that… this thing we had, it made me happy. I loved spending time with you. I loved the way you made me feel. I… I do love you, I think. In a way.”

“What are you asking of me? That we keep… dating casually?”

No, that was not what he wanted. He wanted more. But how could he ask for more?

“I guess… If you want?”

“No, I don’t.” Lambert clenched his hands into fists. “I want… I wanted you to be my boyfriend. In a real relationship where we’d do things together. Not just go out, but hang out. Do stuff together. Spend whole days together. Go on trips together.”

“We… we can do that.” Jaskier’s heart began thumping within his chest.

“We can’t be a couple if only one of us actually has any… any feelings.”

“Lambert, listen to me!” Jaskier wanted to grab Lambert and shake him until the words made sense. “I do have feelings for you. They’re just not like the ones they sing about in songs. They’re… For me, they seem deeper. More… more real?”

Lambert hesitated. “I…”

“If you say again that you don’t understand I’m gonna laugh and you’re probably gonna hit me.”

“I would never hit you. And I’m sorry if I’m having a hard time under… grasping all this. I thought you were dumping me. That you were telling me that you did not want to be with me, but… Now you’re saying that you do?”

“I really really do. But I also understand if you don’t want to be with me now. If you want to find someone who can give you more.”

Lambert shifted slowly, turning his whole body towards Jaskier and taking his hand between both of his. “Jaskier. I don’t want to be with anybody else. And if you’re being… what you are… means that we’ll just be… like it has been so far. That’s enough for me.”

“You don’t want more?”

“Of course I want more!” Lambert huffed. “I want it all, but I’m willing to take what I can get.”

“I want more too. The thing you described. Being a couple… Boyfriends. It sounded really nice. I’d like to do all those things with you.”

Lambert whimpered and surged forward, but stopped himself. “Can I… Is it okay if I…?”

“If you don’t kiss me, I’m going to slap you!”

Chapter Text

“I could get so used to this,” Jaskier muttered. They lay tangled together on the sofa, Jaskier’s head resting on Lambert’s chest, their legs twined together, feet hanging over the edge.

“I already have,” Lambert answered, running his fingers through Jaskier’s hair. “I… I don’t know how I could have…” 

At the hitch in his voice, Jaskier raised his head to catch his eyes.

“Ssh… Lambert, darling. Don’t think about it, okay? I was a fool running away from you. I won’t do it again.”

“Oh gods, this truly is my worst nightmare come to life.”

They both twisted around to see Yennefer standing in the door, staring at them.

“Shit!”

Lambert pushed Jaskier off him and scrambled to his feet. “I… I better leave,” he mumbled and, as she stepped aside, ran for the door.

“No, Lambert. Wait!” Jaskier hurried after him, but Yennefer caught his arm.

“Please tell me you’re not serious,” she snarled.

“I’ll tell you everything later,” Jaskier gasped, twisting free. “Soon.”

He caught up with Lambert at the bottom of the stairs, grabbing his hand and pulling him into a hug.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered in his ear. “She just…”

“She hates me.” Lambert sighed. “I know. Maybe… Look, I don’t want to get between you two and…”

“Don’t be stupid.” Jaskier huffed and then, to take the edge off his words, gave Lambert a quick kiss. “She’ll be fine. She just needs some time.”

“Not sure time will help.” Lambert looked away. “I’ve been… I’ve been kind of a dick to her.”

“Oh yeah, she did mention some stuff that was not…” Jaskier did a pretty good job keeping the laughter out of his voice. “... good.”

“I was a jerk.”

“It sure sounded like it, but…” Jaskier bit his lip. “You know, after getting to know you like I do now, I find it hard to believe that you could be that horrible to somebody. At least without good reason.”

“Yeah, well… I thought I had a good reason at the time. But instead of apologising, I just went and made things worse, and even if I did try to apologise, I doubt she’d hear me out.”

“I do. Want to hear you out, I mean.” Jaskier considered for a moment. “Let me run up and grab my shoes and we can take a walk. You can tell me your version, how does that sound?”

Lambert nodded. “Yeah. That’s probably a good idea.”

…

“No, Yen, not yet. I’ll talk to you when I get back.”

“You better!”

…

“So…?”

They had been walking for almost ten minutes, side by side but not touching, Lambert walking with his shoulders drawn up tight, his hands deep in his pockets. 

He sighed. “So… I did those things. Stupid things. And I… I sort of had a reason, but I know it doesn’t excuse what I did.”

“Tell me the reason?” 

Lambert fell silent again for several minutes. This time, Jaskier fought the urge to prompt him. He would tell him when he was ready. Or he wouldn’t. And that would be… That would actually be okay. It would suck to have his best friend and his boyfriend —  Holy shit he had a boyfriend! — hate each other but he would just have to deal with it.

But then Lambert began speaking.

“I was going through some shit at the time. Some stuff with a guy that didn’t work out and I really needed my brothers… Yeah, I know they’re not my actual brothers, but they might as well be. That’s how I see them. Geralt especially. But when I went to talk to him, there she was and she was being nasty. I know she’s your friend and all, but you must know how she can get.”

Jaskier nodded. He had seen Yen at her worst.

“She had found out that during their latest breakup, Geralt had been fucking her best friend. A lot. In the very bed that they were now sharing.”

Jaskier couldn’t suppress a snort. Why wasn’t he surprised?

“I walked in right in the middle of an argument and rather than tuck tail and run, I came to Geralt’s defence.”

“Big mistake.”

“Yeah, tell me about it.” Lambert smiled wryly. “So she called me a useless drunk that the others only tolerated because they felt sorry for me. And I called her a heartless bitch. Then she… she said I was a coward and that I…” He paused. “That I’d been living in the closet so long that my mail was being automatically forwarded to Narnia.”

Jaskier couldn’t stop himself laughing. “That was… imaginative.”

“Yes, I was almost impressed, except… Geralt…”

The realisation hit Jaskier like a freight train. “He didn’t know.”

“He didn’t know.”

“Oh, Lambert.” 

Jaskier wrapped an arm around Lambert, pulling him to his side. They walked a few more steps and then Lambert suddenly stopped, dragging Jaskier into a fierce hug, pressing his face into his shoulder. “I… I should have told him. I wanted to tell him.”

“And she had no right to take that from you.” He stroked Lambert’s hair softly, feeling him tremble against his chest. “That was a horrible thing to do.”

“I think she realised it when Geralt turned on her with murder in his eyes. She might even have apologised, but I took off.”

“And returned later with that…”

“The jammer. Yeah. Geralt had been calling me non-stop, but I wasn’t ready to take his calls. So instead I went the childish route.”

“Quite persistently.”

“Yeah, the second time I came by to charge the battery, I was starting to realise that I was perhaps not dealing with the situation sensibly, but it… It took my mind off the other stuff.”

“The guy?”

“Yeah. Hating Yennefer made it easier to forget how he had made me feel.”

“That makes sense.”

Lambert pulled back enough to look up at Jaskier without letting go of him. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. It was kind of mean, but under the circumstances I can’t really hold it against you. Not the jammer, at least.” The word felt strange in his mouth. Possibly because he kept picturing a jar of his favourite raspberry jam. 

“But the other thing…” Lambert looked away, visibly blushing. “Yeah, that was a bad night.”

“Want to tell me about it?”

“Some other time?”

“Of course. Whenever you’re ready. Just… can I ask one thing?”

Lambert bit his lip but nodded. 

“Was it really all your idea?”

…

‘Geralt, you’re such a dick!!!’

Jaskier was about to hit send on the message when he realised that Geralt might actually ask if he had anything specific in mind and he couldn’t really answer that truthfully without admitting that he had been talking a lot more to Lambert than Geralt might be aware of and that… That was something he wasn’t ready to do.

Which was a very unsettling thought.

Chapter Text

“What the hell, Jaskier?”

“No, what the hell, Yennefer ? Did you out Lambert to Geralt? Seriously?”

Yennefer, who’d been bristling with indignation as she paced the living room, waiting for him, gaped at him for a moment—then, closing her eyes as well as her mouth, sighed and breathed in deeply through her nose.

“Fuck!”

“Yeah, I’d say. How dare you talk about him that way when you know damn well you deserved everything he did to you?”

When he’d walked Lambert to his car and kissed him, promising to call him later, Jaskier had still been feeling equal parts relieved that Lambert was, in fact, not the bastard Yennefer had made him out to be and miffed at Geralt who, from what Lambert had been willing to reveal, bore at least an equal part of the responsibility for the whole ‘wearing Yennefer’s dresses and facetiming an old professor’-incident, but had let his friend take the whole blame for him. He was such a fucking coward sometimes.

But as he walked home, Jaskier’s feelings slowly turned to anger. Anger towards Yennefer. Considering how nervous he had been about people—Geralt—finding out that he might be interested in men, he could only imagine how horrible it must have been to have your secrets yanked out and put on display like that. Not only was it a very personal thing and none of her business, but… to have your best friend, your brother, find out like that. Like you’d been hiding it from him. Lying to him.

The more he thought about it, Lambert’s trick with the jamming device, childish as it might seem, had been a pretty tame response. If Jaskier had been in his position, he’d probably have gone a lot further. Like poison her plants or… or burn her favourite dresses.

By the time he got home, he was seething with rage on Lambert’s behalf, ready to fight. To make Yennefer feel every last grain of the misery she had heaped on Lambert.

She was still just standing there with her eyes closed.

“Well?” he snarled, stepping into the flat and closing the door behind him. Could their friendship survive this? Did it matter?

“I…” She swallowed hard and looked at him. “Geralt, he... I was going to go after Lambert, but Geralt stopped me, he… He said he already knew, but that Lambert was kind of touchy about it.” She attempted a weak shrug. “I knew I shouldn’t have said what I did, but… I didn’t think that I actually…”

Jaskier could feel the rage evaporating, replaced by a familiar weariness. Why was Geralt like that? He groaned.

“He lied.” Yennefer concluded. “He was trying to spare my feelings and instead…”

“Instead he drove a wedge between you and Lambert. One he helped drive in deeper when he let Lambert take the fall for that stupid cross-dressing stunt.”

Now it was Yennefer’s turn to groan. “Hell. I should have known…”

She was the one to break the long awkward silence. “Do you think… Do you think your…?”

“Boyfriend.”

“Boyfriend would come over for dinner if I asked nicely? I would… I would like to apologise.”

“So would he. And I better be the one doing the asking.”

“Yeah, you’ve got a point.”

…

“Are you sure she’s not going to try to poison me or something?”

“Of course not.” Jaskier giggled and kissed Lambert’s nose. They had started out sitting side by side on the sofa, but he’d somehow ended up in Lambert’s lap, his hands up under his shirt, making their way towards those cute little nipples he’d found so fascinating the other night. “She really is sorry. And kind of pissed off at Geralt. Again. Which he definitely deserves, but…” He gave Lambert a deep kiss. “I really don’t want to focus on him tonight.”

“Good.” Lambert grinned as he nudged Jaskier back, just enough for him to get his hands between them so he could unbutton his shirt. “I think I’ve got an idea about what you want to focus on. Stop me if I’m wrong.”

“Oh, from the looks of it, you’ve definitely got the right idea.” Jaskier licked his lips in anticipation.

As soon as the shirt was out of the way, he surged forward, sucking Lambert’s right nipple hard. 

Lambert gasped, his hands clutching Jaskier’s arms. “Fuck… That feels good,” he moaned. “Just… Let me know if there’s something you want me to do. Or not do.”

Jaskier paused and straightened up to look at Lambert. “You can touch me,” he said, then clarified: “I like when you touch me. My arms, my back, my chest. My thighs. And… I think I might like it if you touch my butt too, just not…” He frowned, not sure how to put it.

Lambert nodded. “I think I know what you mean. Grabbing and squeezing is fine, but stick to the cheeks?”

Jaskier could feel himself blushing. “Yeah… That sounds good.”

It felt as good as it had sounded and Jaskier soon lost all sense of time and place, caught between the delight of Lambert’s nipples between his lips, and his strong hands touching him in all the right ways.

If Lambert was at any point tempted to try and take things further, he fought it valiantly. Jaskier himself was definitely not unaffected by what they were doing and found it harder and harder to keep still in Lambert’s lap. But despite his arousal, he didn’t dare make a wrong move and risk spooking himself like last time. 

He still could hardly believe that Lambert was okay with it. That he would humour Jaskier’s appetite for making out without any promise of further intimacy or any kind of release. Jaskier would have liked to think he could have done the same for a girl, but had to admit that if somebody had been grinding on him and attacking his nipples like this, he would most likely have at least asked if they were absolutely sure they didn’t want to take it just a bit further.

He had let these thoughts distract him too much and as Lambert dug his fingers into the firm flesh of Jaskier’s behind, he let out a desperate moan and rolled his hips forward. And met… nothing…

Jaskier paused, sat up and scooted back along Lambert’s thighs, so he could look down.

“Is everything okay?” Lambert asked, his voice breathless but concerned.

“Yeah, just…” Jaskier frowned as he looked at him. “You’re not… You’re not hard? Don’t you like this?”

Lambert’s laugh sounded strangely hysteric. “Yeah… Of course I like it. I like it a lot.”

“But… I would have thought that even though we aren’t gonna, y’know, that it would turn you on,” Jaskier blurted. “I mean… even I am a bit…” He made a sheepish gesture at the quickly retreating bulge in his jeans. “Y’know.”

“Do you want me to get an erection?” Lambert sounded puzzled and more than a little tense. “Wasn’t that what scared you the last time?”

“It was,” Jaskier confirmed, fighting the urge to get away from the awkward situation. “That was why I was trying to not touch you there, because I thought… Well, I thought that you were still attracted to me. I mean, you sure were acting like it.” A hint of hurt indignation was trying to force itself into Jaskier’s voice.

“I am… I’m very attracted to you, I'm just…” Lambert sighed. “Fuck… I guess we need to have another conversation. I was hoping it could wait, but…”

Lambert looked as uncomfortable as Jaskier felt. Like he was mortified at the thought of even talking about this. Why would he be embarrassed? Wasn't it Jaskier’s fault that he wasn’t hot enough? That he was too uptight and demanding too much without giving enough? Unless… Oh… Maybe Lambert had a physical… problem…

“You don’t have to tell me,” he said, so quickly he almost stumbled over the words. “It’s really none of my business. I mean, I’m the one who noped out on having sex… If anything, it’s my fault…”

Lambert took hold of his shoulders and gave him a little shake as he shushed him. “Relax, Jaskier. There’s nothing wrong. At least, I don’t think there is. This might actually be a good thing, it’s just… I’ve only told this to one other person and he didn’t… he didn’t take it well.”

Jaskier took a deep breath, swallowed the stream of words fighting to escape his mouth and nodded. “Okay. Tell me.”

Lambert slid his hand down Jaskier’s arms, pausing at his wrists and then taking his hands, raising them up as if to kiss them, but instead he just looked at them as he began to speak, his voice trembling and weak.

“I… I don’t really like… I mean, I don’t care much for…”

“Yes?”

“For sex.” Lambert lowered his head, pressing his forehead to their joined hands.

Jaskier just sat there, for way too long, too stunned to speak, listening to Lambert’s shallow breaths.

“I… I don’t understand.”

Inexplicably, Lambert began laughing. Or was he sobbing?

“I’m sorry,” he gasped, kissing Jaskier’s knuckles softly. “It’s just… I almost feel like we’ve had this conversation before, only… different.”

“What do you… oh…” It finally clicked. “Yes, I see your point.” Jaskier sighed, feeling relief wash over him. There was nothing wrong with Lambert. Or with Jaskier. They were just…

He snorted. “We’re quite a match, huh?”

“Oh yes.”

Lambert finally looked up and Jaskier just had to kiss him, cupping his cheeks gently in his hands.

It was a long kiss, but without the heat from before. Instead it felt tender, affectionate. 

Jaskier felt Lambert’s hands settle gently on his hips and he had a sudden flashback to the last time they had been on this sofa.

“Hold on…” He pulled back to look down at Lambert. “You don’t like sex, I get that, but… We were… You were going to sleep with me. Or…” Had he been pressuring Lambert into something that he didn’t actually want? Had Lambert just gone along with it for Jaskier’s sake? Jaskier felt his blood turn to ice. 

“No. I mean, yes. I was going to sleep with you. I wanted to. You see, it’s…” 

Lambert was looking away again. Jaskier really really wanted to make him face him, but it was obviously difficult for Lambert to talk about this and Jaskier owed him the same respect and consideration Lambert had shown him.

“It’s not that I find sex disgusting or… or unpleasant. I’ve done it. A couple of times. If I’m with somebody I really care about and want to be close to them. It’s nice.”

Jaskier nodded as Lambert continued.

“It’s just not something I think about a lot. Or… go looking for, if you know what I mean?”

“I think so.”

Lambert let out a long frustrated breath. “It’s not easy to explain but… I read something once that sort of makes sense?”

“Try me?”

“Okay, so it’s like… If sex is a pizza, okay?”

Jaskier couldn’t help a small snort and thankfully Lambert didn’t take offence but rather smiled. 

“Yeah, I know it sounds silly, but listen here: it’s like… If I wasn’t a big fan of pizza, which I totally am, but that’s not the point. So, if I wasn’t, it’s not like I could never eat a pizza, but on the other hand, I’d definitely not order one, right? And I wouldn’t be craving it. But occasionally I might be in the right kind of mood and see just the right kind of pizza and be like… ‘hmm, I could eat a slice’. Or someone I… I care about, might offer to share a pizza with me and I’d say yes because it’s not so much about the pizza as about eating it together and…” Lambert paused and laughed softly. “I’m babbling. Sorry.”

“No,” Jaskier said quickly. “I think I get it. So I… I said I might want to try a new kind of pizza and you didn’t mind sharing it with me?”

“Didn’t mind? I was ravenous for pizza that day. I mean… That you would want to try it with me was just like… The best topping imaginable.”

They both broke down giggling. 

“Okay…” Jaskier wiped a tear from the corner of his eye. “I think we’ve exhausted that particular metaphor.” He twisted off Lambert’s lap to sit next to him instead, sighing happily as Lambert wrapped an arm around his shoulders. “And things make a lot more sense now. I was kind of wondering why someone as hot as you would agree to a celibate relationship.”

“You think I’m hot?”

“Like a jalapeño pizza.”

Chapter Text

They had spent the rest of the evening snuggling on the sofa, watching a bad horror movie. Lambert had a surprisingly large collection of those. He also happened to know a place that made tolerable pizzas and was actually open after 10 in the evening. When he  asked, shortly after midnight, hesitantly and definitely blushing, if Jaskier would perhaps like to spend the night, Jaskier happily agreed.

Which was how he found himself waking up in Lambert’s bed, wearing one of Lambert’s old t-shirts, with Lambert’s arm heavy across his chest. Jaskier felt so content he could have cried.

Instead, he slipped out of the bed, careful to not wake his boyfriend, and made his way to the bathroom.

He had planned on going back to bed afterwards, but passing the living room he spotted his phone on the coffee table and, almost by habit, went to pick it up. There was a message from Yen. Several messages, actually. He probably should have let her know he wasn’t coming home. Not that he always kept her updated about where he spent the night, but yesterday had been quite the rollercoaster for all of them.

‘ Did you ask Lambert about dinner? Does Saturday work for him? ’

‘ Does it work for you? ’

‘ I’m guessing you’re not coming home tonight. ’

‘ And that you’ve got that thing figured out. ’

‘ I do not want details. ’

Jaskier chuckled at that one. He had been dreading trying to explain to Yennefer how kissing guys, or Lambert anyway, was more than good, but that he had noped out on the actual sex-part. And now it had the added layer of Lambert’s sexuality and that was really none of Yen’s business, so he could, in good conscience, keep his mouth shut and let her assume whatever she wanted. That could be fun.

‘ Have you thought about how this thing with Lambert will affect you and Geralt? ’

‘ I mean, if you’re just friends, he shouldn’t mind you two dating, right? But I thought the purpose of this whole thing was to figure out your attraction to men in general so that you might explore your potential attraction to Geralt in particular. ’

‘ Does Lambert know? ’

Fuck!

He had told Lambert about experimenting, but not why .

If they were truly going to do this boyfriend thing, he would definitely have to tell him about Geralt.

And what about Geralt? He hadn’t had any of those dreams since he and Lambert started dating, but did that mean that he had moved on? Or perhaps Geralt had just been a convenient face to put on new desires awakening in him?

Huh?

That was an interesting, and very appealing way to look at it. But how could he know? He glanced at Yen’s next message.

‘ When was the last time you even talked to Geralt?’

Yes, that was probably a good idea. For many reasons.

He was about to put his phone down and return to bed, when he noticed a new message from a different number: Vespula.

Bloody, fucking hell!

‘ Long time no see, handsome. I miss you <3 <3 <3 ’

He had made it very clear that they were just casual this time around. And she had happily agreed. He’d had a sneaking suspicion that she might not have been entirely honest, but had been so horny at the time, he’d happily taken her word for it.

He should definitely have known better. Vespula was a passionate lover, but that passion also extended to other aspects of her personality. Jealousy for example. He had lost a good phone and a rather crappy guitar last time they broke up, when she had tossed all his things out her window down to the street two floors below. This time, he had been careful not to leave anything at her place. He hoped.

So what should he do? He could text her and say he’d been busy, but then she’d be demanding to know when he’d make time for her. He could ignore her and hope she got the message. Or he could be a man and actually call her and tell her he was seeing someone.

… Yeah, definitely ignore her and hope for the best.

“Hello, gorgeous.” 

Jaskier turned his head and saw Lambert standing in the door to the bedroom, leaning against the frame and watching him with an almost goofy smile.

Before he could stop himself, Jaskier turned off the phone and put it face down on the coffee table. Totally not suspicious…

Lambert frowned. “Something wrong?” 

“No, I…” Jaskier’s brain flicked through a startlingly large number of excuses before he caught up and shook his head. “It’s just a woman I was seeing… very casually… Before you and I started dating. She’s been reaching out and I guess I should tell her that I’m taken and…”

“Well…” Lambert stopped him. “You don’t have to. I mean…” He shifted a little. “If it’s just like a casual thing for sex, then… I see no reason why you can’t keep doing… that…”

Jaskier gaped at him. “What… What do you mean?”

Lambert hesitated, then walked over to the sofa. He sat down next to Jaskier and took his hand in his. “Look, the way I see it, just because I don’t like pizza, there’s no reason why you can’t eat it.”

It took Jaskier entirely too long to figure out and Lambert was starting to squirm when it finally clicked. 

“Oh… Oh!!!!” Jaskier turned so quickly to face Lambert that he almost elbowed him in the chest. “Are… Are you sure?”

Lambert nodded and leaned in to give him a quick kiss. “Of course I am. I know how you are and I would never expect you to give up something you clearly enjoy. A lot.”

“But won’t you feel jealous or… left out?”

Lambert laughed. “I’d prefer to be left out, thank you. And as for jealousy?” He shrugged. “No, I don’t think so. I mean, it’s not like I’m missing out on something because you’re sleeping with someone else and…” He gave him another kiss. “If I understand things right, I won’t even have to worry that you’ll fall for somebody else.”

“Right…” Jaskier turned it over in his head. Then he grinned and nodded. “Right! That’s not gonna happen, so… You’re really okay with it?”

“I’m more than okay. I want you to go have all the awesome sex you can get. As long as you can still find time for me in between.”

It was Jaskier’s turn to laugh. “I can do that. It’s not like I fuck around the clock. At least… not often.”

“You’re horrible.”

“I know. And you love it.”

“I do…”

…

Eventually, their growling stomachs got them off the sofa and, never quite letting go of each other, they made their way to the kitchen and got started on an improvised breakfast. Lambert hadn’t had time for shopping, so they had to make do with buttered toast and half a bowl of müesli each. At least there was plenty of tea and milk, so Jaskier wasn’t complaining. They put it all on a tray and brought it back to the sofa, Lambert turning on a news channel that they happily ignored, feeding each other bits of toast and sipping tea.

When they were done, Jaskier lay down on his back and Lambert managed to squeeze down beside him, his head on Jaskier’s chest, their legs tangled together.

Jaskier sighed happily and closed his eyes while Lambert drew idle patterns with his fingers on his chest.

He had almost drifted off when Lambert spoke, his voice small and hesitant.

“There is… there is one thing… about the pizzas…”

“Yes?” Jaskier asked, wide awake again. Was something wrong? He craned his neck to try and catch Lambert’s eyes but could only see the top of his head.

“It’s just… I meant what I said about wanting you to go have your fun, but… If you ever think you might change your mind… if we’re still together, that is… about, y’know… jalapeño pizza…”

Jaskier didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. Could Lambert be any more precious?

“I will come to you,” Jaskier promised. “Of course I would.”

“Thank you.” Lambert finally looked up, smiling.

Jaskier took hold of Lambert’s shoulder and with some shoving, squirming, and pushing, managed to get him close enough to kiss him.

It was a very good kiss. So good, in fact, that neither of them heard the front door open, nor the steps down the small corridor. It wasn’t until the door to the living room creaked open that they broke apart, turning their heads in unison to see Eskel, standing frozen in the doorway, staring at them as if he’d seen a two-headed monster.

Lambert jumped to his feet and Jaskier scrambled to sit up, while also pulling down the t-shirt that had ridden halfway up his stomach. 

Lambert smiled sheepishly. “Hey, Eskie… What’s up?”

Eskel closed his mouth and took several deep breaths through his nose. Then he growled: “You’re such a fucking prick!”, spun on his heel and stomped out.

Lambert was about to go after him, but Jaskier caught his wrist. “What was that about?”

“Damned if I know,” Lambert muttered and sank down next to him with a frustrated sigh.

Chapter Text

Eskel’s reaction kept haunting Jaskier all the way home. His brief visit had effectively ruined the mood and Lambert had not protested when Jaskier suggested that he better head on home. He did have some papers to grade and owed Yennefer at least a partial explanation.

And he needed to think.

Was Eskel angry that his friend hadn’t told him about his new boyfriend? It could explain it, but Eskel’s reaction felt kind of out of proportion for that. And they’d never seemed close in ‘that’ way, meaning a tell-each-other-everything-and-talk-about-feelings way.

Was Eskel jealous? Had there perhaps been something more than friendship between him and Lambert? Jaskier doubted it. And Lambert had seemed as confused as him.

So it… it kind of had to have something to do with Geralt, but… 

Jaskier shook his head. There was no way that Eskel could have been under the impression that Geralt and he were anything other than friends.

So… what?

…

“So…” Jaskier paused to blow on his tea and ignore the looks Yen was giving him. “Have you talked to Geralt lately?”

She smirked. “I haven’t told him about you and Lambert, if that’s what you mean. I wasn’t sure what there was to tell, actually.”

“But you have talked to him?”

“Yes, we’ve been going out for pizza and stuff a few times. Just as friends, so don’t get any ideas.”

“Oh.” Jaskier didn’t know exactly how to feel about Yen and Geralt hanging out together without him. But what could he expect? It wasn’t as if he’d been making much time for either of them lately. “So… how is he? What do you guys talk about?”

“He’s fine.” Yen didn’t take her eyes off Jaskier as she put down her mug. “And we’ve been talking about lots of stuff. Why?”

“Nothing.” Jaskier tried looking away, but Yen was making it really difficult.

“Jaskier?”

“It’s nothing, okay?” He almost huffed at her. “It’s just, after your messages, I got to thinking and realised that I hadn’t actually spoken to him for a couple of weeks, and I have sort of been keeping a lot of stuff from him, and I just thought… maybe he had said something about it?”

Yen nodded slowly. Then she visibly made up her mind. “He misses you.”

“What?” Jaskier almost dropped his tea. “Did he say that?”

“Not exactly, but he’s been asking about you. How you are. What you’re doing. If maybe you’re mad at him for something he hadn’t realised he had done.”

“Shit.”

“Yeah.”

“So what did you say?”

“I said you were keeping busy with work and stuff.”

Jaskier sighed. “I should call him. Or go see him. I just… It was awkward when I was having those dreams, and now…”

“Now you’re fucking his friend and haven’t even told him about how you two have been dating for weeks.”

“We’re not… I mean, we haven’t been…” Jaskier bit his tongue.

“You’re not what?” Yen’s eyebrows began rising.

Jaskier squirmed. “We haven’t been dating for weeks . It’s not been that long.”

“If you say so.”

….

Jaskier shifted on the bench, ran a hand through his hair, then did his best to flatten it down, checked his phone, had a minor panic attack when he thought he’d lost his keys, located them in his front pocket, then checked his phone again. 

This was highly mortifying. He was not waiting for an important meeting or even a first date. He was just going to meet up with his best friend. Something he’d been doing more times than he could count, for more years than he cared counting. And here he was, fidgeting as if waiting for a blind date. 

Hell, why did he have to remind himself of his less-than-successful series of experimental guy-dating? That was just the first item on a very long list of things he knew he should talk to Geralt about but would really rather just pretend never happened.

Why did he have to tell Geralt about that anyway? It was none of his business. It was not like it had anything to do with him. Well, yes, it did. It had a lot to do with him, but Jaskier was never going to tell him that . No, he was going to tell him because Geralt was his best friend and it was just plain wrong keeping him out of such an important part of Jaskier’s life. Friends did not do that.

Friends did not have long-term relationships without telling their friends. Like Geralt had told Jaskier about his year-long thing with Yennefer.

“You bastard!”

“Sorry.” Geralt stopped abruptly, his arms that had been moving up (to hug Jaskier?) fell down to his sides. “I’m not that late, am I?”

Jaskier got his scowl back under control and managed a smile as he stood up and hugged Geralt, pointedly waiting until he returned the embrace. “No,” he muttered, resting his chin on Geralt’s shoulder. “I was just thinking about how bad you are at communicating sometimes.” And how you might be rubbing off on me, he didn’t add.

“I’m sorry.” Geralt paused. “Anything in particular, or just in general?”

“It’s a lot of things in particular.” Jaskier sighed. “Too much to unpack here and now and… Just… I need you to tell me things.”

“What things?”

“Things about you. Important things.”

Geralt nodded slowly. “I will try.”

…

“What I don’t get is why you never once, over all the years that we were friends and you were seeing Yennefer, that you never once thought to mention either of us to… either of us.” Jaskier emptied his pint and put the glass aside. “Can you tell me that?”

“That’s rather complicated,” Geralt muttered, not meeting Jaskier’s eyes.

“Complicated how?”

“Well, there were different reasons. Why I didn’t tell you about her and why I didn’t tell her about you.”

“I see. Where do you want to start?”

Geralt shrugged. “What do you want to know?”

“All of it?” At the back of Jaskier’s mind, a small voice hinted that his sudden need to make Geralt confess was really just an unfair tactic to delay the moment when it was his turn to come clean. He pointedly ignored it.

“Fine.” Geralt reached for his own glass, realised it was empty too and began getting up. 

“Oh no!” Jaskier leaned across the table to grab his arm. “You’re not getting out of this. Tell me one of the reasons and then you can go get us more beer.”

“Fine. I’ll start with the easy one, then.” This time Geralt did meet his eyes. “I didn’t tell you about Yennefer, at first, because I wasn’t sure if there was anything to tell, really. We met, we had some great sex… Don’t make that face, I’ve had to listen to a lot worse from you… And then we had some more, and… Then I didn’t see her for months.” He picked up his glass, remembered it was empty, and sighed. “It was just a hook-up, a mutual release of tension, except, I really liked her. A lot. But talking about it wouldn’t help, I thought. Better just to put it out of my mind. And then she was back and this time it lasted a couple of weeks. You were out of town at the time, travelling with some rich girl…”

“Sophronia.”

“...and by the time you got back, we had broken up.”

“You were pretty grumpy back then, now that you mention it.”

“And you were insufferable. Anyways, I thought that was it, but then we got back together, split up and made up again. Over and over. And each time it happened, it was like I didn’t get around to telling you and eventually it just got weird. I didn’t tell you, because I…”

“Because you hadn’t told me.”

“Exactly.” There was a long pause. “Am I an idiot?”

“No. Just… medium dumb. But we all are.”

“Thanks. Can I get more beer now?”

“Yes, please.”

While Geralt went up to the bar, Jaskier leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes. Maybe Geralt wouldn’t be too mad that Jaskier hadn’t told him about Lambert yet.

Chapter Text

“Go on,” Jaskier prompted as soon as Geralt sat down.

“Hang on.” Geralt actually smiled a little as he pushed one pint towards Jaskier and then raised his own. “Cheers.”

“Yeah, cheers, whatever. So tell me, why did you never mention me to Yennefer? Were you embarrassed of me?”

Geralt sighed. “This is going to sound stupid, but I was afraid she wouldn’t like you.”

“Right.” Jaskier took a large pull of his beer. “So you were embarrassed.”

“No, not at all. It’s just… Well, you know Yen, she can be pretty fierce and within minutes of meeting my other friends…”

“Eskel and Lambert.”

“Yes. They were at each other’s throats. Not literally, but… Well, you know how Lambert can get, and Eskel might be less abrasive, but he is kind of stubborn and he’s also got a dark streak that doesn’t surface often, but Yen just seemed to bring out the worst in him. So after a very uncomfortable evening with them all at my place, I had to listen to hours of Yennefer complaining about how crude and simple my friends were, and I…”

“But I’m not like that. I’m sophisticated. I’m charming. And Yen and I get along splendidly.”

“You do now, but who’s to say how it would have gone back then? And admit it, you can be as nasty as Lambert when the mood strikes you, and you do say some pretty outrageous things sometimes.”

“And you didn’t want me to make you look bad in front of your fancy girlfriend?”

“No!” Geralt slammed his hand onto the table, making several people around them squeak in surprise. Geralt raised his hands and bowed his head in silent apology, while the bartender hurried over with a rag to wipe up the spilled beer.

“No,” Geralt said more softly. “I didn’t want to listen to her say such things about you, because… I wouldn’t be able to. I’d have to defend you and we’d get into an argument and… I never win an argument with her.”

“Oh, Geralt….” Jaskier was glad there was a table between them or he might have kissed him. “That’s actually incredibly sweet.”

“It’s pathetic.”

“Yes, well, a bit.”

They drank in silence for a while, Geralt seeming content, while Jaskier fretted internally about how to tell him about… well, about everything.

‘I might be attracted to you’ seemed too forward and was definitely going to make the bit about Lambert distinctly awkward. ‘Do you, perchance, ever sleep with men?’ posed the same problems, and ‘So, I forgot to tell you that I’m dating your friend,’ just wouldn’t work after the things Geralt had just told him. He’d seem petty and like he was only using Lambert to get back at Geralt. Which wasn’t true. He wasn’t using Lambert for that. For… For anything.

“So, uhm… Geralt,” he began, wondering where he was going with this. “Do you… Do you know any gay people? Or… y’know… queer?” What the hell, Jaskier?

Geralt stared at him for a moment, his pint hovering somewhere between his mouth and the table, having apparently forgotten which way it had been moving.

Jaskier failed to keep from squirming as Geralt closed his eyes and sighed deeply.

“This is about Lambert, isn’t it?”

Time stopped.

The world ended.

Jaskier swallowed hard. 

“What do… What do you mean?”

Geralt knew. How did he know? Was he upset, disappointed… angry?

“Fucking hell!” Geralt clenched his hand into a fist and looked like he wanted to punch something. “I should have known.”

“I… I’m sorry?”

“ You’re sorry?” Geralt glared at him. “Why are you sorry?”

“Uhm… I…” Jaskier’s throat was closing up, making it almost impossible to speak. He reached for his beer but couldn’t take his eyes off Geralt’s and his hand just floundered aimlessly.

“I can’t believe she did it again. I thought she realised after the first time that she should keep her nose out of other people’s business and…”

“I’m sorry, what? Who?”

Geralt paused. “Yen, of course. I mean, I know she doesn’t like Lambert, but still… Outing him like this is just… It’s just wrong, you know?”

Oh… “Oh! No, Geralt, it’s not like that, Yen didn’t…”

“I know she was upset back then, but it was actually me she was angry at, but Lambert got caught in the crossfire and…” He gave Jaskier a sheepish look. “I guess we do have that in common. Taking our anger out on the wrong people.”

Jaskier sighed and nodded. “Yeah, I guess in some ways you’re perfect for each other.”

“In others… not so much.”

They sat in silence for a minute, Geralt probably brooding about Yen, Jaskier trying to work up to telling him what he’d actually come here to say. Instead, he asked: “So… How did Yennefer know anyway? About Lambert, I mean? Does she just have excellent gaydar?”

Geralt snorted and put his glass down. “She probably does, but in this case, she’d been told. One of her friends, Keira, had met Lambert one night we’d all bumped into each other at the pub. Me and the boys, Yennefer and a gaggle of her friends.”

“Geralt…”

“Yeah, sorry. I know that’s offensive, it’s just… That particular group of women can be a bit…”

“Much?”

“Yeah.”

“So…” Jaskier prompted after a moment. “Keira met Lambert and…?”

“They got along splendidly and ended up taking off together. Everybody assumed they’d hooked up, of course, but apparently nothing happened, much to Keira’s chagrin.”

“Just because he wasn’t interested, doesn’t mean…”

“No, but Keira really didn’t take it very well and a few nights later she spotted Lambert at a… club… in Novigrad and took it upon herself to keep an eye on him. She saw… stuff…”

“Ah…” Jaskier nodded. “And immediately ran to Yen and told her.”

“Probably.”

“And she, as Yen is wont to do, ended up weaponising the knowledge.”

Geralt nodded. “I think, actually, that was the first unfixable crack that finally made the whole thing tumble.”

“That and you fucking her friend?”

Geralt stared at him for a moment. “How did you…?”

This was it. The perfect opening. He could tell Geralt that Lambert told him and then…

“Oh, right,” Geralt interrupted before Jaskier could answer. “You must have met Triss.”

“Triss?! You fucked Triss while you were dating Yen?”

“Not technically dating, no. And she was off with that other guy. The professor.”

“But still… Her friend?”

“Yeah, not my proudest moment, but Triss had been giving me those looks for ages and when she heard about our latest breakup she came by to ‘comfort me’ and…”

“Please. No details. I can imagine plenty.”

“Please don’t. I’m not sure I’m comfortable with my friend imagining me having sex.”

Jaskier almost choked on his beer.

Chapter Text

Jaskier had quite lost his nerve regarding telling Geralt anything after that. Who could blame him?

Instead, they’d spent the rest of the evening getting tipsy and reminiscing about some of their more ill-considered exploits at the beginning of their friendship. Geralt insisted he was always getting Jaskier out of trouble, which Jaskier did his best to refudiate, but it was getting increasingly difficult to make his treacherous mouth form the correct words. 

Realising that it was only a matter of time before he said something not just unintelligible but utterly imbecilic, Jaskier decided to call it a night. 

Geralt’s vision must have been impaired, because as Jaskier got to his feet, he immediately jumped to steady him, under the impression that Jaskier had been leaning at an unsustainable angle.

Insisting that he was the more sober of the two, he promptly forced Jaskier into his coat and then wrapped an arm around his shoulders and marched him out the door and down the street, searching for a cab.

Rendered completely helpless by the alcohol, Jaskier had no choice but to lean against his friend’s warm, strong side, snuggling closer. If he wasn’t careful, this was gonna spawn some very embarrassing dreams, but he couldn’t be bothered worrying right now. This was Geralt. Hot, strong, gorgeous Geralt, his arm tight around him, his breath hot on his cheek every time he turned to speak to him, his voice soft and slurred with drink. Geralt who, as a cab finally pulled up in front of them, gave Jaskier’s cheek a loud, wet smooch before pouring him into the backseat and then proceeded to giving the driver directions to Jaskier’s flat and then paying the man before waving them off.

Jaskier had zero recollection of the drive home. One moment he plopped into the soft seat, his cheek still burning with the imprint of Geralt’s lips, the next the driver cleared his throat and gave him a pointed look in the mirror to let him know that they had arrived and he ought to get his arse out of the cab.

He somehow managed to drag himself up the stairs and stumble into bed, sinking into blissful oblivion before his mind could get to work on what had happened.

He spent most of the next day nursing his hangover and then, once he could move about without feeling like he might die, catching up on some cleaning and doing laundry. 

In the late afternoon, he had run out of things to do and, knowing that Yen would soon be home and probably wanted to hear about last night, he took a quick shower and then texted Vespula to see if she was home.

The sex was nice. Not particularly exciting or even passionate, just nice. Kissing Vespula was definitely not like kissing Lambert. Her lips were sticky and too slick and her tongue too passive. Not that he particularly wanted her tongue in his mouth, but he couldn’t help make the comparison. 

With Lambert, kissing was like a dance. It could be soft and sweet, just moving together in perfect harmony, or it could be fiery like a battle, the dominance shifting back and forth as they sought to devour each other. Okay, perhaps that was a bit too colourful a metaphor, and thinking about it certainly didn’t help him stay in the moment with the body currently under him.

It was just all so… underwhelming.

So, of course, he didn’t do the right thing and tell her it was over. Instead, he snuck off for a quick shower when Vespula had drifted off and then fled, feeling like a total jerk.

His plan was to head home, but instead he ended up getting a coffee and taking a walk along the canal. Was he ever going to enjoy kissing anyone again? Anyone but Lambert? And if not, what would that mean for his sex life? Would he just be doomed to passionless tumbles that were hardly half a step up from getting himself off? 

Or maybe he just needed a better partner. Somebody he actually liked.

Maybe he’d try calling Annie tomorrow. It was getting late and he should start heading home.

He missed his bus by two minutes and just as he had settled down to wait for the next one, he spotted one coming to a halt on the other side of the street. The one he’d take when going to Lambert’s place.

…

He had expected Lambert to be sleeping, but as he turned the corner and looked up, he saw the light on in Lambert’s flat.

Jaskier got out his phone and found Lambert’s number.

“Hey. It’s me. You’re up?”

“Yeah, hi… I…” There was a sound that might have been a sniff. Or possibly just a sharp inhale.

“Is everything okay?”

“Yes. No… I think we need to talk. Again?”

“Oh no.”

“Sorry. Can we meet tomorrow?”

“We can. Or you can let me in. I’m downstairs… Lambert?”

The door buzzed and Jaskier hurried over to open it, his phone still pressed to his ear. Lambert hadn’t hung up, but he wasn’t saying anything and from the way he was breathing, he was either angry or upset. Either possibility made Jaskier’s heart plummet and he ran up the stairs, stumbling through the half-open door to Lambert’s flat.

“Lambert?” he called, finally turning off his phone.

Lambert emerged from the kitchen, clutching a glass of what Jaskier hoped was water. He looked miserable, a look that Jaskier, unfortunately, was getting too familiar with.

“Darling,” he gasped, rushing to him, relieved beyond words that Lambert didn’t flinch but rather let himself be wrapped up in a tight hug. “What happened?”

“It’s… I…” Lambert gasped then took a deep breath. “I talked to Eskel. Asked him what he’d been angry about and... “

“And?” So Eskel did know something. But how?

“He said that we, you and me, being together was wrong, and that we were both doing it for the wrong reasons, and…”

“What the hell?” Jaskier felt himself starting to fume. So what if they weren’t a traditional couple? How was that any of Eskel’s business?

“He said that… that I was only interested in you because of Geralt and that you were probably just using me…”

“What? Hang on, go back. What has Geralt got to do with it?” Geralt had everything to do with it, but not in this way.

Lambert sighed. “Can we sit?” he muttered.

Jaskier quickly led him over to the sofa and got them settled, his arms still around Lambert.

“You see,” Lambert began after a long pause. “Geralt, Eskel and I, but especially me and Geralt, have always had this silly rivalry going. Ever since we were kids and....”

“You really grew up together?”

“Group home. From when I was 13.”

“Oh…” Jaskier hadn’t known that about Geralt. Seemed they still had some communication to work on.

“Anyway, I was the younger one and I was always jealous when the others had something I didn’t or got to do stuff I couldn’t, so… I would kind of like… y’know… nick their stuff. Not like stealing or anything, just… small things like t-shirts and CDs. And once, when Geralt was dating a girl who was a class above me—I was 16 at the time—I tried hitting on her.”

Jaskier couldn’t help but smile at the mental image. 

“Did she fall for it?”

“No, she laughed at me and then told Geralt. And Eskel. Geralt thought it was funny. Eskel wanted to punch me.”

Jaskier was starting to get an idea where this was going.

“So now he thinks you’re only into me because I’m Geralt’s friend?”

Lambert shrugged. “I thought so at first, but it’s more than that. Eskel said… Eskel said that Geralt is…” He pulled back and Jaskier reluctantly let go. “He said…” Lambert's voice was so low that Jaskier could hardly make the words out. “He said Geralt’s in love with you.”

Jaskier should say something. He should laugh and tell Lambert that it was absolutely ridiculous. Geralt was his friend. Geralt was straight. Wasn’t he?

Instead he reached for Lambert’s hand. “Is that why you’re so upset?”

Lambert shook his head. “Not really. I mean… It wasn’t exactly pleasant having a guy who’s like a brother to me accusing me like that, but…”

“But there’s more?”

“He said that you were clearly pining for Geralt and had been for years, and you were both too stupid to see that you were meant for each other and that you were just using me to make Geralt jealous or something like that, and… He made some good points about how you two have always been so… close.”

Jaskier suppressed a groan. This was what he got from being such an idiot. For making stupid plans and excuses rather than just coming out and saying what he felt. It was none of Eskel’s business, but at least he’d backed Jaskier so thoroughly into the corner he’d been skittering around for over a month that there was no way out now but telling the truth.

He gave Lambert’s hand a squeeze. “I’m sorry,” he began, but had to stop at the desperate sound Lambert made.

“No, not like that. Lambert, darling. Look at me. Can I kiss you? Please?”

Lambert nodded, but didn’t quite meet his eyes. So Jaskier kissed him, soft and long until he felt the trembling subside and Lambert’s hand relaxed in his. 

“I’m not in love with Geralt,” was the first thing he said when they pulled apart. “You know I’m not. That I can’t be.”

Lambert bit his lip and nodded. “I guess, but still… That doesn’t mean you can’t want him.”

“I suppose not, and to be perfectly honest, I have considered it. In fact, that was the reason I was curious about men in the first place. Because I’d been… I’d been having these dreams.”

“About Geralt?”

“Yes… Don’t laugh.”

“I’m sorry, it’s just…”

“No… You can laugh. Lambert, darling. Don’t cry. Please.”

“He was right. Eskel was right. It’s always about Geralt. He’s the strong one. The charming one. The handsome one. Everybody always wants Geralt and I’m just… I’m just…”

“No!” Jaskier said it so firmly they both flinched. “It’s not like that. I told you how I feel about you. I wasn’t lying. I want to be with you . Be in this relationship. Be your boyfriend. The thing with Geralt was only ever about sex. About being curious and finding him… sort of hot.”

“Hotter than me?”

“Never. Nobody can be hotter than you.”

“Liar,” Lambert whispered against Jaskier’s lips. “But thank you.”

The kiss was shorter this time, but more passionate. Jaskier hoped that meant that he had gotten it right. That Lambert believed that he was Jaskier’s first choice, no matter what silly route it had taken him to get there.

It wasn’t until many hours later, when he woke up in Lambert’s dark bedroom, that his mind had finally made its way back to the other part of that conversation. 

“Hey, Lambert! Lambert! Wake up! Why did Eskel think Geralt’s in love with me?”

Chapter Text

Jaskier really couldn’t blame Lambert for kicking him out. Out of his bed and out of his flat. Out of his life?

He hadn’t been angry, just calmly cut off Jaskier’s attempts at explaining that he didn’t mean it like that and insisted that he needed some time alone. To think.

Jaskier needed to do some thinking too. A lot of thinking. 

That thrill he had felt at the thought that Geralt might be… interested in him… that way… It had been such a rush. A high. All the things the songs and books spoke of. Feeling lightheaded, butterflies in his stomach, a tightening in his chest. Was this being in love? Was he in love with Geralt? And did Geralt love him?

Jaskier’s head was spinning and it was more luck than sense that got him onto a night bus and off at the right stop. 

He was imagining kissing Geralt. Holding his hand. Looking lovingly into his eyes.

Would it be like with Lambert? Better?

He felt a pang of guilt and tried to drag up the regret, the grief at losing this wonderful thing that had been building between them. It was definitely there somewhere, and it was probably going to hurt. A lot. But not now. Now he was too flooded with whatever feeling or hormone or chemical or whatever it was that was doing these terrifying and delightful things to his body.

Geralt. In love. With him.

It was almost too good to be true.

He barely suppressed the urge to whistle as he let himself in. He wanted to go and wake Yennefer and tell her about this marvellous new development. Surely she’d be happy for him. And probably also relieved that she wouldn’t be expected to become friendly with Lambert after all. Though she really should still do that. Lambert was a great guy and he didn’t deserve the way she had been treating him. 

Jaskier hoped that he and Lambert could become friends after all this. Even without those wonderful kisses and snuggles, he’d still enjoy his company. If only Lambert could forgive him.

His hand was reaching for the handle when he heard the sounds from behind the door. Soft creaking, heavy panting and a deep groan.

Definitely not barging in there tonight.

Giggling silently, Jaskier stumbled over to the sofa and flopped down.

Good for her.

He sat there for several minutes before he realised that the silly grin was starting to slide off his face.

What had he done? He had hurt Lambert. Badly. Probably broken his heart. Crushed it.

And for what?

Eskel, who apparently had a thing for sticking his nose in other people’s business, had said Geralt was in love with him. But why? Had Geralt told him? Done something? Or was it just Eskel making assumptions? How trustworthy was Eskel really about such things? He had, in all the years Jaskier had known him, never been in anything even resembling a relationship. What made him the expert? And what gave him the right to interfere in what he and Lambert had?

Even if he was right.

And what if he was? What then? Should Jaskier go running to Geralt and declare him his love? Was he even sure he was in love with Geralt? 

Sure, he’d been feeling giddy at the thought on his ride home, but were these feelings really all that different from how he’d felt at the start of other relationships? How he’d been feeling with Lambert?

Was he feeling love towards Geralt, or was he feeling excited about Geralt’s possible feelings towards him ? Was he really such a hypocrite?

Was he really such an idiot? A complete arsehole? 

Jaskier groaned and fumbled to get his phone out of his pocket.

Surely Lambert wasn’t asleep yet. Should he call him? Would he answer?

Jaskier settled on a text:

‘ I am so fucking sorry. I was a jerk. An idiot. I understand if you hate me forever but please don’t. I don’t want to lose… ’

He stopped himself. Did he mean that? Even if he was still broken… no, not broken, just… aromantic… Even if he was still like that and didn’t actually love Geralt that way, might he not still have something with Geral? Like he’d had with Lambert, only… more? Geralt was his oldest friend. Before Yennefer, he’d been his closest friend and he was still the person Jaskier would say mattered to him the most. And he was insanely hot. Surely all those dreams must have meant something . Even though Jaskier had backed out of sex with Lambert, maybe it would be different with Geralt. 

Before he let himself give in to those particular fantasies, he erased the text and typed:

‘ Words cannot say how sorry I am for what I did to you. I understand that you need time, but when you are ready to talk, let me know .’

He hit send and then pushed himself to his feet. He was probably not going to get any sleep, but he might as well do his thinking from the comfort of his bed.

It was when he passed the dinner table that he noticed it. Slung over the back of one of the chairs was a dark leather jacket. A very familiar looking jacket.

Geralt’s jacket.

Chapter Text

“Jaskier! Jaskier, oh gods, what are you doing here?”

It wasn’t until he heard the voice ringing across the crowded room that Jaskier was finally convinced he hadn’t been imagining it. The beautiful woman who had been dancing around on the stage for the past 20 minutes was indeed…

“Elihal,” he gasped, staggering as he was tackled into a tight, heavily perfumed hug. “Or is it… what do I call you?”

“Elihal. It’s my name and my brand. No matter how I’m presenting.”

“That’s nice. And practical.”

Elihal laughed and patted his cheek. “It’s so good to see you. What are you doing here in Novigrad? I thought the break wasn’t for another three weeks.”

“It’s not, I… I had some time saved up and needed to get out of Oxenfurt.”

“Don’t we all.” Elihal shifted a bit and winced. “Look, if I don’t get out of these shoes, my toes are gonna fall off and die. But if you’re not here with anybody, perhaps we could go out and get a bite to eat. I know a place that’s still serving.”

“Only if you will let me pay,” Jaskier insisted. “As a thank you for that wonderful performance.”

“You’re such a sweetheart.” Elihal kissed his cheek. “Meet me by the side of the stage in 5 minutes, okay?”

It took closer to 20 minutes than 5, since Elihal had not just switched to flat shoes but refreshed the makeup and changed from the glittery purple dress to a fluffy black jumper and very tight faded jeans.

“Shall we?” he… she?... asked, offering an arm to Jaskier.

“We shall.” Jaskier accepted the arm and let himself be guided through the crowded club. 

It wasn’t until they were outside, strolling down the sidewalk, still arm in arm, that he had worked up the nerve to ask: “So, if it’s not offensive to ask or anything, what do I call you… I mean… What are your pronouns?”

“Oh, darling.” Elihal gave his arm a squeeze. “ Not asking would be more offensive.”

“Oh. Good.”

“Truth is, I have no actual preference. People usually call me he or she depending on how I’m dressing. Others might use they or xe and I’m fine with all of them. They feel like me. As long as you don’t call me ‘it’.”

Jaskier gasped. “Someone’s actually done that?”

“Only one very drunk, very bigoted idiot.”

“I’d have punched him.”

“So would I, but his own friend beat me to it. So to speak.”

“Oh… Well, that’s good.”

“Very.” Elihal sighed. “I sometimes feel a bit guilty that I don’t care more than I do, because it feels as if I’m mocking the people to whom pronouns are very important, but… I just don’t. Wearing a dress or a suit. Makeup, wigs or a beard. It’s all the same. I’m just me. I’m a man and a woman. I’m neither and both at the same time. Does that… make sense?”

“I think so.” Jaskier nodded. “I’m not sure I understand it completely, but…”

“Oh, you don’t have to.” Elihal kissed his cheek and then changed direction, crossing the street to drag him into a large, old building across from the city gate. “You just have to accept it.”

Jaskier paused and looked around the empty pub, only lit by the dim glow of a handful of dusty, vintage sconces on the walls. 

“Are you sure about this?” he asked in a low whisper. It didn’t look like a place he’d normally pick for food. Not that it was dirty, but everything looked very worn and neglected. None of the tables and chairs matched, and the light over the shelves behind the bar kept flickering.

“Oh yes,” Elihal said, picking a table for them. “I know it doesn’t look like much, and truth be told, I’m not sure how much longer it can stay open, but the food is good and so are the prices.”

“Elihal!” a deep voice rang out from behind the bar. 

Jaskier turned to look. He hadn’t seen anyone there before. He still didn’t. He blinked. Then he spotted the man, his head only barely visible over the counter. He must be kneeling on the floor or…

Oh.

“Zoltan, so good to see you.” Elihal abandoned Jaskier to dart over and bend down to have his cheek kissed by the stout, bearded man who’d come out from behind the bar. “Let me introduce you to my good friend, Jaskier.”

Elihal gestured to him and Jaskier joined them and offered his hand. “Nice to meet you.”

“Likewise,” Zoltan said, looking Jaskier up and down appraisingly. “You’re that singer, right? From Oxenfurt?”

“You… You’ve heard my music?” Jaskier was almost never recognised.

Zoltan nodded. “Elihal showed me some of your videos. Not my style, but you’ve got a nice voice.”

“Oh… Well, thank you. I’m not really a singer, it was just something I did for fun when I was young…”

“You’re still young,” Elihal insisted. “Now, Zoltan, please tell me you’ve got something good on. I’m starving.”

“You know I do.Go take a seat and I’ll grab you some plates.”

“You are a gem!” 

Elihal kissed Zoltan’s cheek and Jaskier was pretty sure that he saw the man blush as he disappeared out the door behind the bar.

“You seem to know each other well,” Jaskier commented as they sat down again. “I thought you were only in Novigrad to perform.”

“Oh no, I live here now. I opened my own shop last week. Out in Farcorners.”

“Your own shop? That’s amazing!”

“Thank you. I still do a lot of my business online, but now I have a place where people can come in for fittings and stuff like that. I also do special commissions.”

Zoltan came in and put a tray on the table with two bowls of steaming stew and a couple of pints.

“Here you go,” he said, and was about to leave when Elihal reached for his hand. 

“Won’t you join us, Zoltan? I’m sure you could use a break.”

“Oh yeah, because I’ve been so busy.” Zoltan looked around the empty pub and laughed. “But fine. Let me just lock the door. We don’t want any drunkards wandering in, do we?”

“Why Novigrad, though?” Jaskier asked while Zoltan got a beer for himself. “Couldn’t you have found a place in Oxenfurt?”

Elihal shrugged. “It was time to get away from that place. I mean, Oxenfurt is a beautiful city with a lot of wonderful people, but it is a bit…”

“Bigoted?” Zoltan suggested as he sat down.

“Conservative,” Elihal corrected. “I mean, there’s no open discrimination, but there’s just this attitude…”

“No,” Jaskier protested. “Oxenfurt is very progressive. At the university, we…”

“At the university, yes, but that’s like a small society in itself, and most of those young people only stop by for a couple of years, then move on in their lives. And the city tolerates them because they are part of the flavour and good for the economy, but once you go off campus, things change.”

Jaskier considered this. He’d always thought of Oxenfurt as an open-minded and diverse city, but how well did he really know it? Other than Geralt, Eskel and Lambert, almost everybody he knew was connected with the university one way or another. The pubs and bars he’d go to were the ones who catered to students, and even when he did branch out, how often did he really have the occasion to see if people were as tolerant as he assumed?

Sure, he considered himself different with his romantic orientation and his brief exploration of sexuality, but except for some walks with Lambert, he’d not been visibly different. 

Had he been that blind?

He sighed. 

“So, Novigrad is better? More accepting?”

Elihal shrugged, but it was Zoltan who answered. “It used to be. There’s been a shift these past years, but it depends on the area.”
“The gangs have taken over The Bits and pretty much run the docks,” Elihal supplied.

“While the worst of the snobs have walled themselves off on Temple Isle.”

“Gildorf is fine, with a lot of art and crafts and there’s a couple of good venues around Hierarch Square, but most of the… alternative crowd lives out in Farcorners.”

“That’s right across the bridge from here, right?” Jaskier asked.

“Which is why I wandered in here after my first show at the King Fisher. What was that, 5 years go?”

“4, I think. And you just kept coming back.” Zoltan grinned.

“Every time I was in the city.”

“I can’t blame you,” Jaskier said, before taking another mouthful of the very tasty stew.

They were silent a moment, then Elihal asked: “And you, Jaskier? Why did you want to get out of Oxenfurt?”

…

Over the next couple of hours and several pints of beer, Jaskier told the whole miserable story to Elihal and Zoltan. By the end, he was sobbing into Elihal’s shoulder, desperately clutching Zoltan’s hand.

He could feel them both close to bursting with things they wanted to say. Whether it was sympathy, advice or scolding he didn’t know, but he was grateful they held it back. Later, he would be ready to ask for help. Maybe even to be told he’d been a fool and a jerk, but right now it was all too raw. Too close.

He had a room down near the docks, but didn’t protest as he was led upstairs into what had once been a very fancy room, and let Zoltan tuck him into bed, Elihal curling up behind him, holding him close until he finally drifted off.

Chapter Text

It’s funny how time can sometimes just fly by.

Zoltan had insisted that Jaskier could stay in the room above the pub for free if he would help him out on the few occasions that the place actually had more than a handful of patrons at a time. Which was usually only in the evenings, so he spent most days either exploring Novigrad or hanging out at Elihal’s shop, chatting with him while he sewed or flirting with the clients.

A week had gone by.

Zoltan had to go meet a supplier about getting an extension on his bills and Jaskier was left in charge of the pub after swearing that he would not attempt cooking anything more complicated than microwave popcorn.

After waiting behind the bar for two hours without a single customer walking through the door, Jaskier got bored and quickly darted upstairs to get his guitar. He might as well work on one of his new ideas while sitting around.

He perched on one of the tables in the corner, took a moment to tune the strings and then closed his eyes as he struck the first chord.

It was a nice song. A bit sad. And though he still hadn’t gotten the bridge quite right, the melody flowed easily from his fingers while he sang of the bittersweet gift of a love you could never deserve.

He nearly tumbled off the table as the last note was met with a round of enthusiastic applause.

“That was amazing!” a young bearded man squealed, clutching the hand of a woman who looked to be fighting back tears. “I didn’t know this place had music.”

“Yeah, you should really do a better job of getting the word out there,” another woman chimed in. “We wouldn’t have known if we hadn’t heard you as we walked by.”

The man at her side nodded.

“Oh, I’m… I’m not really performing,” Jaskier said, jumping to his feet and putting the guitar aside. “I’m tending the bar, can I get you anything?”

The four looked at each other and then shrugged. 

“Sure,” the bearded man said. “We’ll have a pint. And whatever snacks you’ve got back there.”

“And while we drink, could you please sing us another song?” The woman let go of his hand to wipe her eyes and gave Jaskier a brilliant smile.

“Uhm… Sure… Please… Sit wherever you like.”

The group stayed for several pints and Jaskier sang and played, only pausing to serve drinks to the increasing number of people who wandered in from the street. Soon, people began singing along with the choruses and requesting that he played their favourites again.

When Zoltan returned shortly before midnight, they had run out of peanuts and Jaskier’s voice was getting hoarse.

Relieved of his duty, Jaskier brought a round of beer over to the original group to thank them.

“We should be thanking you ,” the woman who had spoken first said. “We’ve had a wonderful evening. Much better than anything we could have found in The Bits.”

“True, true,” the others agreed and raised their glasses.

An hour later, Jaskier led the woman—Nissa was her name—up to his room and spent a very pleasurable night and morning with her.

…

Nissa and her friends were, it turned out, very good at getting the word out there and in less than a fortnight they had had to hire two new bartenders to serve the crowd while Zoltan worked the kitchen and Jaskier entertained. 

It felt like he was young again. Well, younger, anyway.

He slept with a new woman almost every night and had even, after a couple of drinks, made out with a very cute guy out in the alley, but had chickened out of inviting him upstairs.

Life was good.

If he could only get rid of the nagging sense of guilt of having run out on his friends without a word. He hoped they weren’t too worried.

At least he hadn’t left Yen completely stranded. His half of the rent would still be paid from his account. As long as he had any money.

He had used up the last of his vacation and after Zoltan had assured him he was more than welcome to stay, Jaskier had called the university, borrowing Elihal’s phone, and told them he would be resigning his position.

He had instead been talked into accepting a prolonged leave with the option to return for the fall semester. Not that he was gonna come back. Not permanently, anyway.

Maybe in time, when his friends had forgotten him and moved on, he could visit and give the occasional lecture. He would like that. He did miss teaching. A bit.

His free room and two meals a day of Zoltan’s excellent cooking made living in Novigrad incredibly cheap and he found that the tips he got, even when sharing them with the other staff, were plenty to cover the few expenses he had.

He’d left his phone in Oxenfurt, not wanting to deal with people trying to get in touch, and after the first month he decided he could live without one for a while. He spent all his time at the pub or with Elihal, and everyone who mattered knew where to find him. 

He didn’t even have to worry about clothes, since Elihal had figured out that putting Jaskier in his outfits when he performed was excellent promotion for his shop and thus kept him well-stocked in new, flashy outfits.

Life really was good.

He barely had time to think about Geralt.

Or Yen.

Or Lambert.

Chapter Text

“Darling, could you zip me up, please?”

“Of course.” Jaskier carefully shifted Elihal’s hair out of the way so it wouldn’t get caught.

“How do I look?”

“Ravishing as always.” 

“It’s not too much for work?” Elihal shifted in front of the mirror, examining the dress from every angle.

“Definitely not, dear. You made it, so of course you should wear it in your shop. So people can see how talented you are.”

“You’re such a sweetheart.” Elihal kissed his cheek and then sauntered into the front room to unlock the door.

Jaskier cleared the table where they had just shared breakfast and then set up the old laptop Zoltan had lent him. He was working on creating a new YouTube channel and was almost ready to launch it. His first video would be a recording Nissa had done of his performance at the pub two nights ago. The place had been packed and he’d had everybody singing along to his new songs. He just needed to pick which one should be his debut. And a name.

He’d been debating what to call himself. He considered Dandelion, which was the name he’d been using on the dating app. Zoltan thought it was a grand idea, but Elihal had pointed out that it might be a bit too close to Buttercup, if he really wanted to keep the two identities separate. Jaskier had to agree. Also, he was not a kid anymore. He needed something more… mature.

Maybe The Bard? Or had that already been used?

He was about to do a search when he heard the bell over the door ring and Elihal call out:

“Welcome, welcome. Do come in.”

Jaskier’s heart sank when he recognised the deep voice: “I’m a friend of Jaskier’s, looking for Elihal.”

There was a brief pause, then Elihal answered: “You’ve come to the right spot. How might I be of service? Need something shortened? Patch your trousers? Darn your socks?”

Such nonsense. This was not a common tailor’s shop. The shop only sold original designs and none of them had needed repairs yet. Elihal must have put two and two together and was stringing him along. Buying Jaskier time.

“You Elihal?”

“Yes. Now pick your jaw up off the floor.”

Jaskier let out a hysterical giggle. His eyes flickered to the backdoor. He could run. Now. 

“Sorry. I thought… I mean… Of course you are.”

Halfway to his feet, Jaskier paused. Geralt had come all the way to Novigrad, looking for him. Who knew how long it had taken him to track Elihal down? What he had gone through?

And Yennefer. Lambert. 

Jaskier had disappeared without leaving any hint of where and why. And he’d been gone for almost two months now. 

He groaned and sank down into the chair again. How were they ever going to forgive him?

“Hang on a moment. Wait here,” he heard Elihal say, followed by approaching footsteps. When the door closed, Jaskier looked up. 

“Do you want me to get rid of him?”

“No… I… How does he look?”

“Big and handsome.”

“Not what I asked.”

“Sorry. He looks tired. Like a man who’s close to giving up.”

“Shit… Okay… I… I’ll talk to him, just…” 

“I’ll make myself scarce.”

“No, it’s your shop. I’ll take him somewhere, just give us a minute. Maybe two…”

“Okay, darling. Good luck.”

Elihal kissed his cheek again and then gave him a little push towards the door.

“Geralt.”

The silence stretched on. Had time frozen? Or had Jaskier perhaps died and was caught in this moment forever?

Then, suddenly, Geralt moved.

“Jaskier?” His voice had never sounded so broken.

“Yes, I…” Jaskier took a hesitant step to meet him. “I’m sorry, I…”

He didn’t have time to finish. Geralt grabbed him by the shoulders and then, to Jaskier’s utter horror, pressed a dry, hard, desperate kiss to his lips.

Then he pushed him out at arm’s length and glared at him.

“Jaskier, you dumb piece of shit. Don’t you ever do something like this again.”

…

“I don’t think you realise how hard it was. Finding you.” Geralt was staring into his coffee, cradling the cup in both hands as if needing its warmth to thaw his fingers.

“I’m sorry,” Jaskier said for what might not be the hundredth time in the last quarter of an hour, but it was getting close. “I…”

“It’s kind of impressive, actually. I mean… considering what I do. Who I know.” Geralt snorted. “I even had to call in Vesemir.”

“Vese… your old mentor?”

Geralt nodded. “You owe me big time for that. I had to tell him the whole thing and he was not impressed. I don’t think he’ll ever let me live this down.”

“Oh. I’m…”

“Sorry. Yes, I know.”

There was another long silence, during which Jaskier sipped his tea and tried to get his thoughts in order.

“When you say everything…”

“I left out some details,” Geralt assured him. “Most of what Lambert told me…”

“Lambert?” Jaskier gasped. “He… he told you… What did he tell you?”

Geralt sighed. “He told me about himself. Which I wish he’d done a long time ago, but I understand why he couldn’t. And… he told me about you.”

“I see.”

“I know it wasn’t really his to tell, but I hope you can forgive him. Giving the circumstances, and…”

“No. I mean, there’s nothing to forgive. I made it his business too, dragging him into all this. If anything, I should be asking his forgiveness, but I honestly don’t see how I can ever…”

“He doesn’t blame you.”

“What? Why? He should. I used him, I…”

“You were confused. Trying to navigate a… an identity? Something new that you had yet to wrap your head around. Right?”

“I guess. But I still messed up.”

“Not arguing with you there, I just mean… You didn’t set out to hurt him, and for a while you actually made him very happy. Gave him something he didn’t think he could ever have.”

“And then I took it away again.”

“Nothing lasts forever.”

“Maybe. But he still deserved better.”

“True.” Geralt took a sip of his coffee.

“So…” Jaskier said when he couldn’t stand the silence. “How did you find me?”

…

They’d all—Geralt, Yennefer, Lambert, and even Eskel and Triss—been spending most of their free time searching for Jaskier, looking up all his old flames and hookups in Oxenfurt, to see if anyone had heard from him. Vespula had been livid and asked them to pass on that she’d rather he drop dead than ever try to contact her again. Anne Louise had been concerned but couldn’t help, and Valdo had been terrified when Geralt approached him, convinced that he had come to give him a belated beating for what happened on their date. 

Vernon Roche had gone back to Temeria, but had offered to keep an eye and ear out for any news of Jaskier.

They had all but given up when Lambert saw him. Or rather heard him.

He’d remembered Jaskier mentioning Elihal and when he couldn’t find him in Oxenfurt, he had gone online. He’d found the shop in Novigrad and also a video of his latest show at the Kingfisher. Barely 30 seconds into the clip he had called Geralt, crying and stammering about recognising Jaskier’s voice amongst the cheers.

(Considering Jaskier had been the one doing the filming, he did not doubt that Lambert had been correct.)

The second he had hung up, Geralt had taken off for Oxenfurt.

“And here we are.”

“Yes.” Jaskier sighed. “What happens now?”

Chapter Text

They both sat in silence for a while. Around them, the café was slowly filling up with people on a quick lunch break or shoppers resting their legs and perusing their latest acquisitions.

Finally, Jaskier felt he had to say something.

“You kissed me.”

Geralt’s smile teetered between sheepish and smug as he nodded, not quite meeting Jaskier’s eyes.

“You ran away and hid for months because you found me with Yennefer.”

“It was not just because of that,” Jaskier insisted, only a little feebly. “I was also… I was hiding from what I did to Lambert. Hoping that if I went away, maybe he’d be okay.”

“You’re an idiot.”

“I know…” 

They both chuckled.

“But you still kissed me.”

“I did.”

Geralt seemed content to leave it at that. Or maybe Jaskier wasn't the only coward at the table.

“Why?”

“I was happy to see you. Relieved that you were okay.”

“You’ve been happy to see me before. Never kissed me before today.”

“I wasn’t planning on it, it just…”

“It just happened?”

“Yes. No… I mean….” Geralt paused, then groaned and covered his eyes for a moment before dragging his hands down, suddenly looking very tired. “I wanted to kiss you. I’ve wanted to for some time, but… I never thought that was something you might want.”

“Until Lambert told you…”

“Yes.”

“So… Eskel was right?” Jaskier flinched at the tone of his own voice. Of all the thoughts that had forced themselves through his mind, in spite of his herculean efforts to keep them out during the long nights where he’d failed to find company, this was the one that had never made it beyond the threshold. Not since those short blissful moments back in his old flat before he’d realised what he had walked in on. 

Geralt back in Yennefer’s bed had been all the proof he needed. Geralt never had been nor never would be interested in Jaskier for anything beyond friendship. The mere notion was ridiculous. 

Except, why would Eskel have said such a thing if it wasn’t true? Why would he come between Lambert and Jaskier if he did not believe that there really was something between him and Geralt? What was going on?

Geralt took a deep breath and looked up from the table. 

“Maybe,” he said.

Jaskier had finally lost his mind. That was the only explanation. Maybe he wasn’t even here.

He must be imagining the whole thing. He was probably back in his room, passed out on the bed after too many drinks and failed flirting. Geralt had never come to Novigrad, he had never kissed him and he had definitely never told Jasier that maybe he was in love with him. Things like that just did not happen.

Except, instead of waking up with a pounding headache, he was still sitting here. Looking across the table at Geralt, whose expression was slowly changing from embarrassed through mortified to miserable.

Jaskier shook his head to clear it. The world still did not seem quite real, but he had no choice but to deal with it.

“I’m sorry, but… what?”

…

Geralt’s suggestion to go outside and get a little air had, Jaskier suspected, been equal parts to give him a chance to breathe and clear his head and to give Geralt an excuse to elaborate on his statement with a solid excuse for not looking Jaskier in the eye. As they strode along the cobblestone path along the cliffs of Temple Isle side by side, Geralt finally began to speak.

“Eskel might very well have been right when he said I was in love with you,” he began. “ Am in love with you. I’m not being deliberately vague, it’s just… I don’t know if what I’m feeling is a crush, if it’s friendship combined with attraction, or… if I’m truly and deeply, head over heels in love with you.”

Jaskier barely suppressed a gasp. His voice sounded small and broken when he spoke: “For… for how long?”

Geralt let out a sound that might have been a groan. Or an aborted chuckle. “Do you remember when you played that gig at The Seven Cats?”

“Seven Cats…” Jaskier could feel his face scrunch up in concentration as he thought back. He’d played a lot of gigs, but they were all a long time ago, before he got serious about teaching and…

This time he did gasp.

“Geralt! That was seven years ago!”

“Eight.” 

“Oh…”

“Yeah…”

There was a long pause as they passed a couple of upper class women parading their tiny, groomed dogs while wobbling slightly as their thin heels slid and caught on the uneven surface. 

“I don’t know how much you remember of that night,” Geralt said as he led Jaskier around a bend in the path, onto a small, narrower trail leading down along the cliffs to the water.

Honestly, Jaskier didn’t remember a lot. Geralt had driven him to the small village east of Novigrad in his car and sat patiently through his sets, alternating between beer and soft drinks. Afterwards, there’d been the usual crowd of people wanting to hang out with the ‘talent’ and possibly get in his, or his ‘roadie’s’ pants. Jaskier had refused these offers, having promised Geralt that they could drive home that night since he had a meeting in the morning. But on the other hand, he couldn’t just take off and disappoint his fans, and potential subscribers, so he had accepted a couple of beers and shots. It had gotten quite late before Geralt had finally dragged him out of the place and Jaskier had fallen asleep almost the second he got settled in the car.

“You’d had a lot to drink… after playing,” Geralt said, a smile in his voice. “There were a couple of locals who had joined our table and you were showing off in your usual manner, claiming you could turn anything into a song. So some guy suggested a rather lewd scenario involving… farm animals.... You took up the challenge, strummed a few chords and launched into the most embarrassing, ill-conceived chorus I’d ever heard. We would be thrown out for sure, probably arrested, so I—quite firmly—asked you to shut the fuck up.”

Jaskier vaguely remembered that, but could sadly not recall the exact lyrics.

“I told you I wouldn’t…” 

“No.” Geralt sighed. “You looked me in the eyes, said: ‘Make me!’ and winked.”

“Oh no…” Jaskier cringed. He had no trouble picturing it. Drink and adoring fans were such a heady combination. He always got carried away.

“Not the worst thing you’ve ever said, but that night I found myself imagining how I might do just that and… well… I had plenty of time alone with myself and my thoughts all the way home.”

“Fuck.”

“Yeah.”

They had reached the water’s edge and Geralt sat down on a rock looking out to the horizon, squinting slightly against the breeze. Jaskier hesitated a moment, then found himself a seat a little behind Geralt. He had never seen him open up like this, volunteering so much information about his thoughts and feelings. The last thing Jaskier wanted to do was push and risk him clamming up. 

So he waited.

Finally Geralt spoke again.

“Things went back to normal after that. I did indulge in the occasional fantasy of ‘what if’, but never let it get too explicit. You were my friend. My best friend. I had no right thinking about you like that.”

Jaskier must have groaned, because Geralt laughed softly. “Dreams don’t count. You have no control over those.”

“I guess…”

“My fantasies were more about what could have happened if things were different. If I had taken you up on it and kissed you that night… If you had kissed me back and we’d…” He sighed. “I don’t know. It rarely got beyond that without me realising that you would probably just have laughed at me and suggested I might have had a pint too many to drive home.”

“I wouldn’t have laughed at you…”

“Wouldn’t you?”

Jaskier thought back to that time in his life. To who he had been. Geralt might have a point.

“I’d have been surprised. I mean… You like women. You’ve never shown any interest in men.”

Except that time he might have hooked up with Borch, which had started the whole thing for Jaskier…

“We rarely went places where men might approach me and when we did, they probably assumed we were together.”

“What has that got to do with it?”

“It means that just because you haven’t seen me ‘show any interest’ in a man, it doesn’t mean it hasn’t happened.”

And wasn’t that just a whole new side of Geralt he’d never expected. He was so going to ask a lot of questions about this. But not now.

“Fair. But still… If I didn’t know about you and… and that… How could you be sure that it wasn’t the same for me? That I might not have been interested?”

“I didn’t know for sure, and there were times I almost convinced myself that you were… like me, but… that only made it more difficult. Because that meant that maybe I should have taken that chance. That maybe there really could be more between us.”

“But you never said anything.”

“That’s the problem, you see.” Geralt slumped forward, his elbows resting on his knees as he looked down into the water. “I don’t know how to do that. How to take that step…”

Jaskier didn’t see. At least he didn’t think he did. What did Geralt mean? He’d been with plenty of people that Jaskier knew of, and apparently a whole lot he hadn’t been aware of. He’d had hookups and relationships and even friends with benefits arrangements, so how could he say he didn’t know how to?

“I don’t understand?”

“I can’t approach somebody,” Geralt muttered. “Not unless they’ve given me explicit, unmistakable signs that they want me to, and even then… I think I must have misunderstood. That they were just being friendly and if I try to take things further, they’ll be offended or ridicule me or…”

“Oh Geralt…” Jaskier couldn’t stop himself as he shuffled forward and took hold of Geralt’s arm, leaning slightly on him. 

Geralt shrugged. “There have been women over the years who commented on how long it had taken me to ‘get with the program’ and others where I later learned that they had been waiting for me to come on to them, but… I’m never sure before they actually say anything. So I wait for them to approach me. It’s easier with men, I think. At least for casual sex. I go to a bar, sit down with a beer and wait for somebody to chat me up.”

“You never approach anyone? Even if you see somebody really hot?”

“No!” Geralt almost sounded shocked. “Why would I do that? If they’re that attractive, they’ll have plenty of other offers. Why would they be interested in me?”

“Uhm… Because you’re probably the hottest guy in the place on any given night?”

Geralt snorted. “Until I open my mouth and they find out that I’m…” He made a sort of vague gesture with his free hand, pointing at himself. “Like this…”

Jaskier’s heart broke. If not for the rush of the waves against the rocks, they’d surely been able to hear it shatter.

“Geralt… Dear heart, you… You are wonderful and charming and bright. And yes, you might be a bit shy around new people and go sort of quiet, but a lot of people like that you know. The strong, silent type and all that.”

“But I’m not that guy!” Geralt protested. “I can’t keep playing that part and when I start relaxing, they realise that I’m actually just… dumb... “

“You’re not dumb, you’re…”

“Stupid!”

“ No! ” Jaskier slapped his shoulder. “You’re just… You take your time.”

“I’m slow.”

“That’s not what I said, I…”

“It took me eight years to tell you how I feel. If that’s not slow, I…”

“That was low.”

Geralt’s shoulders were trembling and for a second, Jaskier thought he might be crying. Then he realised that he was fighting back laughter.

“Oh, I hate…” he began, but before he could finish, Geralt twisted around and caught his lips in a soft, lingering kiss.

Chapter Text

Jaskier had expected his heart to soar. His mind to explode with happiness. His chest to burst with frenzied butterflies. Instead, he felt a vague sort of dread and a painful clenching of his stomach.

He put his hand on Geralt’s chest and gently pushed him away.

“Please.” He couldn’t meet his eyes. “Don’t.”

The silence was suffocating for a drawn-out moment. Then Geralt sighed.

“I’m sorry, I just… I thought you wanted this. That you wanted me.”

“I do. I did. I…” Jaskier got to his feet and took a few steps away, began to turn towards Geralt, then changed his mind and instead wrapped his arms around himself. “I don’t know anymore.”

“Oh…” He could hear Geralt moving. Standing up too.

“It’s not that I don’t love you, Geralt. I do… More than anyone I ever…”

“But only as a friend.”

“Yes! No! I…” Jaskier groaned. “There’s nothing only about loving a friend. It’s not less than loving a partner. I think. Not to me. I’ve had more girlfriends than I can count and I liked them all. I’ve had one very wonderful boyfriend that I miss terribly, but… What I feel for you. None of them came even close to that.”

“But you don’t want to be with me. That way.” Geralt was hurt. Jaskier knew that. And when Geralt was hurt, it could easily turn to anger. Usually Jaskier would be the one to placate and distract him, trying to help him find a better outlet for the emotions he couldn’t handle. Make him laugh. Or do something stupid, so Geralt could be annoyed with him instead of punching someone’s teeth in.

But this time, he was the one doing the hurting. And still, no matter how bad he felt for Geralt, he was not going to let himself be his punching bag, neither physically, verbally nor emotionally.

“What?” he snapped, whipping around to glare at Geralt. “I don’t want to fuck you? Is that what this is about? Lambert told you what happened and you finally saw a chance to get into my pants?”

Geralt gaped at him for a second. “No!” he croaked. “Not like that. I… I know you don’t… I just thought that we… that you would want…” He groaned. “Y’know like… Like what you had with Lambert.” This time it was Geralt who turned away.

“I see.”

It made sense. If Geralt really had been hiding feelings for Jaskier all this time and then found out that not only had Jaskier been in a relationship with a man but this relationship had ended because Jaskier was, maybe, attracted to Geralt... Of course Geralt had tracked him down, hoping that they would finally fall into each other’s arms and be together. Whatever that meant.

It made sense. It was the logical conclusion to everything that had gone before. So why did it just feel so wrong to Jaskier?

“I’m sorry.” Geralt sounded deflated. “I shouldn’t have assumed. I better go.”

“Yes.” His words took a moment to sink in. “I mean no!” Jaskier darted forward and grabbed Geralt’s arm. “You shouldn’t have assumed and I should… I should have been honest with you, but... Please don’t go. I’ve missed you like crazy and even though it’s a bit awkward right now, I don’t want to lose you again.”

“Jaskier, I…” 

“Can I hug you?”

“Yes. Please.”

…

“So this is Geralt?” Zoltan looked him up and down as he placed two pints on the table in front of them. 

“Yes.” Jaskier allowed himself a little giggle as Geralt returned the glare. “Geralt, this is Zoltan. My boss, I guess. And landlord.”

“And friend.” Zoltan crossed his arms. “So if you try anything…”

“Gods!!!” Jaskier groaned. “He’s my friend too, not some cad who’s…”

“Elihal saw him kiss you. It did not look like a friendly peck.”

Jaskier had the unbridled delight of seeing Geralt squirm. He laughed. 

“He was happy to see me. And I was happy to see him.”

“And that warrants a friendly kiss? I’ll keep that in mind.”

Zoltan winked at him and Jaskier could feel his cheeks burning. 

At least it made Geralt laugh, which was a great improvement from the sullen air he’d been giving off since their talk.

Zoltan chuckled as he left, heading for the kitchen to fix them some lunch. 

Geralt took a sip of his beer and then looked around the pub. “So this is where you’ve been staying?”

“Staying, helping out, performing.” Jaskier gestured to the small podium Zoltan had had installed in the corner. “Together we’ve turned the place around from the brink of bankruptcy to a thriving business. It’s full on the weekends and draws a pretty decent crowd most other nights.”

“People come to hear you sing?”

“I’d like to think that.” Jaskier grinned. “But honestly, some do and others come for the company and others still because they’ve heard it’s the place to go. It’ll probably slow down soon, but I doubt we’ll be completely forgotten.”

“We?”

“Yes.” Jaskier hesitated. “Zoltan has been hinting that maybe… maybe we could run the place together. That I could become the manager, so he can spend all his time in the kitchen without having to worry about all the other stuff.”

“Jaskier, you’re a professor!”

“So? I’m not allowed to try something else? If it makes me happy.”

Geralt grumbled into his beer for a bit. 

“Of course you are,” he finally admitted. “I just thought… I mean, I was kind of hoping you’d come back to Oxenfurt. With me.”

“I know.” Jaskier hesitated, then reached across the table and put his hand on Geralt’s wrist. “A part of me really wants to. To just jump in your car and go back home. Go back to how things used to be.”

“So why don’t you? Yennefer’s been going crazy worrying about you. She hisses at people if they try to sit in your chair or your end of the sofa. She had friends stay over and made them sleep on the floor, refusing to let them in your room.”

“Fuck.”

“Yup.”

Geralt looked down at the hand, still resting loosely on his wrist. Very slowly, as if afraid of startling Jaskier, he let go of his beer and shifted his hand, turning it to twine his fingers with Jaskier’s.

“Come home,” he said softly. “If not to stay, then at least so Yen can see you’re alive. We’ll talk some more and… If this is where you want to stay, then I’ll help you move your stuff.”

“I do miss my laptop. And my shoes.”

Geralt gave his hand a soft squeeze. “I’m sure they miss you too.”

Chapter Text

“You’re an arsehole! A bastard! A complete dick! I hate you so much, I…”

Jaskier pulled Yennefer closer to his chest and kissed the top of her head. “I know,” he said, his voice trembling with held-back sobs as well as giggles. “I know. I’m sorry. You can kill me if it will make you feel better.”

Yennefer sniffed. “It might,” she muttered, giving his shoulder a feeble swat.

Geralt had dropped Jaskier off at the flat before heading down to his office, muttering something about work, but Jaskier suspected that he just didn’t want to get caught in the crossfire of their reunion. And maybe he was going to seek out Lambert to let him know Jaskier was okay.

That thought sent a pang of guilt through his chest that almost made him miss Yenn’s next words.

“I’m sorry?” he said. “I didn’t catch that.”

“I said, I’m sorry,” Yennefer said, pulling away enough to look up at him. “I knew you were still feeling stuff about Geralt and it was a shitty thing to do, I just…”

“No, Yenn.” He unwrapped his arms from around her so he could take her hands instead. “Don’t apologise for that. I have… had ... no claim over Geralt. I was the one in a relationship. If anything, I should be sorry for making you feel bad about… about whatever it was.”

She giggled. “It was some pretty amazing sex. It always is.”

“Thank you.” Jaskier let go of her to cover his own ears and walked away, heading for the sofa. “Didn’t need to know that.”

Yennefer tackled him and they tumbled down on the sofa, where Jaskier squirmed around so he could hug her.

“I missed you.”

“I missed you too, you dick! Why didn’t you let me know where you were? That you were okay? That… that you didn’t hate me?”

Jaskier sighed. “I was a coward. I hated myself. And then things got better, I made some new friends and… I guess I was afraid that it would all fall apart again if I looked back. It was just easier to start over.”

“It was stupid.”

“Oh yes. Very stupid.”

“You quit your job?”

“I’m on extended leave. But I don’t think I’ll come back, I…”

“What?”

Jaskier winced as Yennefer scrambled to sit up so she could glare down at him.

“You’re not coming back? As in, you’re gonna stop teaching, or…”

“As in, I think I want to live in Novigrad. At least for now.”

...

Yennefer handled the news well. Eventually.

She did spend the better part of an hour trying to alternately shame, beg and bribe him into changing his mind, but in the end she accepted his choice and even let him tell her about his new friends, the pub and his ‘faithful fans’.

“I’ll continue paying my share of the flat, of course,” he said, after they had settled down with fresh tea and biscuits. “I’m not gonna leave you high and dry.”

“Don’t be silly.” Yennefer nudged his hand away from the plate so she could snatch the last of the chocolate chips. “I lived here for years on my own. I can afford it just fine without you. And besides, I might want a new flatmate at some point.”

“Oh? Anyone in particular?”

She shook her head. “Not at the moment, just… It was kind of nice having somebody to come home to. To share things with. Somebody who didn’t…” She frowned.

“Somebody who didn’t expect… too much?”

“Yeah, you get it.” She shrugged. “I’m never gonna have a serious, steady relationship and even if I do, I don’t think I’d want to live with them. I need my space. My me-time. You gave me that. We gave each other that, and it was kind of…”

“It was very nice.”

“It was perfect.”

“Except for my stray socks, horrible music, and dishes in the sink.”

“I actually missed those things when you were gone.”

“Not the socks.”

“No… not the socks.”

They kept skirting the issue, but as the sky darkened outside and the tea grew cold, they both knew they had to set things straight.

“So…” Jaskier began.

Yennefer nodded. “Geralt.”

“Yeah…”

“We didn’t plan it.”

“I didn’t think you did.”

“I’d never do that to you.”

“You weren’t doing anything to me. I was with Lambert. And Geralt is your ex, you were always going to have…”

“Dibs?”

“Yeah, but… don’t…”

“Tell Geralt?”

They both had a good laugh.

“You and Geralt had been out.” Yennefer paused and Jaskier nodded. “And from what I understood you’d cleared the air somewhat. Talked about stuff, except…”

“I didn’t tell him about my dreams. Or about Lambert.”

“Yeah, I figured.” Yennefer shrugged. “So Geralt dropped by the day after, wanting to check on you, I guess.”

“I did get pretty sloshed.”

“He told me. But you were out, so I offered him tea and we talked a bit.”

“Just tea?” 

“Well, you didn’t show up, so we decided to order in and I opened a bottle of wine. It was nice. Like old times.”

To Jaskier’s surprise, picturing the two getting pleasantly tipsy and falling into old familiarity didn’t sting. Not really.

“Sounds very nice,” he said.

“It was,” Yennefer agreed. “Eventually it became clear that you weren’t coming home that night and Geralt was helping me clear out the dishes when I sort of… kissed him.”

“Can’t blame you.”

There was a long pause. 

“So you’re… getting back together?”

“No, gods forbid!” 

“Good.”

“Oh, so you’re…?”

“No, just… Geralt might have… told me he’s a little in love with me and he…”

“He kissed you?”

“Sort of.”

Yennefer shifted over so she could hug him.

“Jaskier, that’s amazing.” 

Another pause.

“Isn’t it?”

“I thought it would be, but now… I mean, I knew I wasn’t in love with him because…”

“I know.”

“But I thought I wanted him, in some way, because of the dreams and I’m obviously at least a little bisexual, since I really liked it when Lambert…”

“Stop… no details. Not ready for that.”

Jaskier sighed. “Look, Yenn, I wasn’t gonna tell you, but…. I never fucked Lambert.”

“You… You mean he was the one who…” She made a vague gesture.

“No! Do you seriously think I’d distinguish between who was… where? No, I mean we never had actual sex. Just made out and snuggled. A lot.”

“Oh…” 

“Yeah. I kind of freaked out once things started moving below the belt so we just… didn’t.”

“But the other stuff, you liked it, even though he was a man?”

“I liked it because he was a man.” Jaskier considered for a moment. “Or rather, I think I liked it more because of that. It added an extra thrill, I guess.”

“That makes sense.”

“It does? You don’t think I’m a total weirdo?”

“Of course not. You like what you like and there’s nothing wrong with that.”

“Thanks.”

“I mean it’s not like I haven’t…” She stopped herself and smiled mischievously. 

“Okay.” Jaskier grinned. “That’s a conversation we’re definitely having. Another time.”

“So you like men… sensually, but not…”

“Not sexually… At least, I don’t think so.”

“But you don’t want that from Geralt? Kissing and cuddling?”

“No. I don’t know. When he kissed me, it felt wrong. Like he was asking for something I couldn’t give him.”

“Oh, darling.”

Jaskier rested his head on Yennefer’s shoulder and finally let the tears catch up with him.

Chapter Text

As promised, Geralt helped Jaskier move his stuff to Novigrad. Since he wasn’t bringing much—his laptop, guitar, some clothes and most of his shoes—it fit easily into Geralt’s car, leaving enough room for an extra passenger.

Jaskier had begged Yennefer to come along, but she said she wasn’t quite ready for that. He understood.

What he didn’t understand was what possessed Geralt to invite Eskel to join them.

The drive out of Oxenfurt was awkward to say the least. Jaskier had insisted on taking the backseat since he seriously doubted Eskel would be able to get his hulking form in there and if he did, they’d surely never get him out again. So here he sat, staring at the back of his best friend who was sort of in love with him and his friend who had blabbed and turned everything to shit. 

At least it had worked out alright in the end. Was working out alright… hopefully.

When the bridge had faded behind them and traffic had thinned somewhat, Geralt cleared his throat.

Eskel flinched. “Right…” He twisted a bit in his seat so he could look back at Jaskier, who suddenly wished he had chosen the other side of the car. Like this, there was no way to avoid Eskel’s eyes without being very obvious about it and Geralt clearly wanted them to talk.

“Jaskier,” Eskel began with a sigh. “I’m so fucking sorry. I know it’s all my fault…”

“Not just your fault,” Geralt interjected.

“It is!” Eskel insisted, turning his attention away from Jaskier. “Those two had a good thing going and he was actually making our baby brother happy and then I had to go barging in and ruin everything, just because I’ve been… Well… been obsessing over the idea of you two being made for each other ever since that time you admitted…”

“Wait!” It was Jaskier’s turn to interrupt. “You mean to say you’ve been… been shipping us? Me and Geralt?”

Eskel turned away, but not fast enough that Jaskier didn’t catch his mortified expression.

Geralt roared with laughter. “Oh, yes. He even had a name for us… Tell him, Eskel.”

Eskel shook his head stubbornly.

“Oh, go on, Eskel,” Jaskier urged. “Tell me, please. I’ve never had a ship name before.”

After a moment’s silence, it was Geralt who answered: “He called us Jaskalt. Said we were destined for each other and he was going to be my best man once we finally got our shit together.”

It was Jaskier’s turn to laugh. “Jaskalt? You couldn’t come up with something better?”

“I said it one time!” Eskel huffed. “And I was very drunk.”

Jaskier took pity on him. “Apology accepted, Eskel. It was kind of crappy when it happened and Geralt didn’t exactly make things better, but now that I’ve had some time to think, I know that Lambert and I were never going to last for long. At least this way he’ll have a chance to find someone who’s good for him.”

“Don’t say that, Jaskier, you were very good for him,” Geralt said.

Eskel nodded. “Yeah, after he was done moping around and hating me, he sort of livened up. In a way I haven’t seen in years.”

“Really?” Jaskier found himself leaning forward to make sure he didn’t miss anything. “He’s okay?”

“He’s more than okay.” Eskel flashed him a smile. “Sure, he was heartbroken for a while.”

Geralt slapped Eskel’s bicep, but it was Jaskier who winced.

“I mean… He was upset, of course, about all that happened, which still is mostly my fault,” Eskel amended. “But once we got the text from Geralt that he’d found you and you were okay, it was like he could finally let go. He was just genuinely happy to hear it and then he…”

“He’s leaving Oxenfurt too,” Geralt picked up when Eskel hesitated. “At least for a while.”

“Oh?” Jaskier couldn’t help feeling a little guilty. If Lambert needed time away from his friends—who were the only family he had, as far as Jaskier knew—it was his fault.

“Yeah, we’re lending him out to this other company. One of Vesemir’s old friends is starting a new branch in Vizima and Lambert’s gonna help train their new guys.”

Jaskier tried really hard not to giggle. “Lambert? Training rookies?”

The others did not bother hiding their mirth.

“It gets even better,” Eskel sniggered. “He’ll be working alongside some other guy that’s apparently some kind of… specialist…”

“Business code for ‘former crook turned consultant’,” Geralt explained. “Apparently this guy, Aiden, made himself a name by being able to get past every single security system throughout Nazair.”

“Sounds… interesting…”

“I give them two weeks,” Eskel predicted. “Before they tear each other’s throat out.”

…

The rest of the drive was surprisingly pleasant and Eskel helped Jaskier talk Geralt into making a stop at a beautiful inn—thankfully not The Seven Cats—and then insisted on paying for lunch for all of them.

It was early evening by the time they made their slow way through Farcorners, over the bridge and into the small parking lot behind the pub. They were getting Jaskier’s things out of the boot when the backdoor swung open and Zoltan strolled out.

“Jaskier!” he declared, flinging out his arms as if to hug him, but instead he grabbed Jaskier by the elbows and pulled him down to plant a loud, whiskery kiss on his lips.

Jaskier gaped, Eskel stared and after a stunned moment, Geralt guffawed. Zoltan grinned, winked and then took the two bags from Jaskier’s limp hands and disappeared back inside.

“What was that about?” Eskel asked Geralt.

“Just a…”

“A stupid joke!” Jaskier interrupted. “A very not-funny one.”

He snatched his guitar from Geralt and rushed after Zoltan. If it was going to be a thing with these guys to greet him with a kiss every time he’d been away, he was going to… Actually… he could probably live with that. In fact… kissing your friends should definitely be a thing. 

He reached the first floor and was about to head down the hall to his room when he heard Zoltan call from above. 

“Not that way, kid! I’ve cleared out your old room. Needed it for an office.”

“What?” Jaskier’s heart dropped. He had just told all his old friends that he was going to live in Novigrad. They’d even helped move his things. And Zoltan knew he was coming back, how could he…?

“Come on,” Zoltan looked out over the railing. “Get your bum up here, I haven’t got all day.”

Jaskier frowned. He’d never been to the top floor where Zoltan lived. He knew it was smaller than the other floors, but maybe Zoltan had an extra room up there? He supposed it made more sense sharing a bathroom than him using the same one as the customers.

It turned out most of the floor was one large room with a small kitchen in one corner, one door leading to the bathroom and another opening up to a balcony with a view that might just rival the one from Yennefer’s flat. 

It was a nice place, but oddly empty. There was a table with four chairs by the kitchen, a desk under a window, a single armchair looking oddly forlorn in the middle of the room and a rather large bed in the farthest corner. There was nothing on the walls, or in the windows. Half the cupboards were open and, as far as Jaskier could tell, empty.

He turned to Zoltan who was standing by the chair, grinning proudly.

“What… what is this?” he stammered.

“It’s your new place,” Zoltan declared. “If you’ll have it, that is?”

“But what about you? I thought you lived here?”

“It was just a place to crash.” Zoltan shrugged. “I’ve found a nice house out near Elihal’s shop. With plenty of room for my lass and… perhaps some wee ones.”

“Zoltan!” Jaskier gasped. “I didn’t know you had a girlfriend.”

“Fiancé, in fact.” Zoltan grinned smugly. “Finally got her father to cave, so we’re planning a summer wedding.”

“Oh, that’s wonderful!” Jaskier put his guitar down so he could hug Zoltan. 

He didn’t let go before he heard Geralt clear his throat behind him.

He turned to see him standing in the door, balancing a couple of boxes, Eskel waiting on the stairs behind him. “Where do you want this?”

“Oh, just put it by the wall,” Jaskier gestured, keeping an arm around Zoltan’s shoulder. “We’re heading out to celebrate. Drinks are on me!”

“No!” Zoltan protested. “I can’t leave. We open in an hour.”

“Then we’re drinking here,” Jaskier insisted. “I know you have some good bottles hidden away in the back room.”

“Jaskier!” Geralt cut in. “I can’t drink. I have to drive home.” 

Eskel shrugged. “We can find a room somewhere. I already cleared tomorrow’s schedule.”

“We’ve got plenty of rooms here,” Zoltan said as a sign of his surrender. “Come on down. Once this lad gets an idea into his head there’s no fighting it.”

Chapter Text

Jaskier had had this dream before. Snuggled up in a large, comfortable bed with a strong arm wrapped around him, a warm body pressed up against his back. He knew what he would find if he opened his eyes and turned his head. It had to be Geralt. It was always Geralt. 

Except…

Jaskier was never actually there in those dreams. It was always Geralt with someone else.

And still, this scenario was unquestionably familiar.

Oh, right… That time in Roggeven. The B&B where they’d woken up after a lively night at the pub. That hadn’t been a dream, though. That actually happened.

This… This wasn’t a dream…

As Jaskier’s mind was startled awake, he realised that not only was he lying in a strange bed with Geralt all but wrapped around him, both of them were wearing nothing but pants, and if the ache in his head and taste in his mouth was anything to go by, he’d had more than one drink too many last night. 

Jaskier realised his hand covered Geralt’s on his chest, their fingers twined together. 

And the tickling at the back of his neck was not a warm breeze but breath escaping lips so close that he could all but feel them brush his skin. Or maybe it was a vague memory of an actual touch? 

Jaskier wanted the ground to open up and swallow him. This was bad. This was so bad.

The last time had been embarrassing, but no big deal. They were friends who’d had a bit too much to drink and just… ended up sleeping too close. But this…

Even if it had just been Jaskier fantasising, more or less voluntarily, about Geralt for months, this would have been unbearable. But then Geralt had confessed his attraction to Jaskier.

And then…

Then Jaskier had broken his heart (or at least turned him down politely). And all it took was a couple of drinks for him to lose his mind and jump into bed with his best friend.

He flinched. Had anything happened? Like… Did they actually…?

“Fuck!” Geralt huffed and pulled away abruptly. “Shit. Jaskier! I’m so sorry, I… I didn’t mean to…”

Jaskier tried to twist around, getting himself thoroughly tangled in the sheets and almost falling off the bed. “No, Geralt, I… It was me, I…”

They stared at each other for a breathless second. 

Geralt frowned. “I… I’m not entirely sure what I’m apologising for… Did I… did I do anything?”

Jaskier’s laugh only sounded a little panicked. “I don’t think so. I may have had a bit too much to drink and…”

“You didn’t do anything!” a grumpy voice sounded from somewhere behind Jaskier. “If you had, I would have had to kill you. Or myself.”

Jaskier looked over his shoulder and saw Eskel slumped in the armchair in the middle of the large room that made up most of his new flat. He was using two empty duvet covers as a sort of blanket and what looked like Jaskier’s favourite sweater bunched up as a pillow. He yawned, then stretched and groaned. “I’m almost glad I lost that final game and ended up in the chair. You two are not proficient on the notion of personal space.”

“Why…?” Jaskier began.

“After your friend took off last night, we realised that he hadn’t given us the keys to the other rooms. Or you had no idea where he kept them. Either way, you invited us ‘back to your place’ and since we clearly weren’t all going to fit into the bed, Geralt and I played for it.”

“Right…” Hazy memories were slowly starting to surface. They’d spent all evening in the pub, celebrating Jaskier’s new place and Zoltan’s engagement. But since Zoltan was meeting with… Eudora… for breakfast, he’d left early and Jaskier had promised to close up the place. After locking the door, they’d gone back to drinking and…

“What time is it?” Geralt muttered behind him. 

“It’s breakfast time,” Eskel declared and got to his feet with another groan. “I’m gonna go change and then dash down to the shop around the corner. You think you two can be decent by the time I get back?”

“You’re such a dick,” Geralt grumbled and Jaskier could hear him settling back down into the bed.

Eskel just grinned, grabbed his bag and disappeared into the bathroom.

Jaskier lay, staring at the ceiling for what was probably several minutes, trying to get his thoughts straightened out.

A soft touch to his shoulder made him turn his head and look at Geralt, who was studying him with a curious expression. Was he sad? Nervous? Or… hopeful?

“I wasn’t trying to take advantage of the situation,” he said, keeping his voice low so Eskel wouldn’t hear. “I just…”

“No, Geralt!” Jaskier rolled onto his side to face him and grasped Geralt’s hand in his. “I know. I know you wouldn’t do that, I’d never think…”

“Good. I didn’t want…”

“If anything, I should apologise. I mean, I guess this isn’t easy for you, and I…”

“It’s fine. I…” Geralt took a deep breath. “I did enjoy it,” he confessed. “Even though I know I shouldn’t have. That it was…”

The door to the bathroom opened and Jaskier only realised that he was still holding Geralt’s hand when it was quickly pulled away.

“Don’t mind me,” Eskel teased. He picked up his jacket and headed for the door to the stairs. Just before he closed it behind him, he glanced back at them and smirked. “I promise I’ll knock when I come back.”

Then he was gone.

Geralt groaned. “I’m going to kill him.”

Jaskier chuckled. Then, before he could think better of it, he reached for Geralt’s hand again. “I did too,” he said. “Enjoy it, I mean. Though I do wish it hadn’t happened like this. That we…”

“That we had talked about it first?”

He nodded. “Set some… ground rules?”

Geralt’s eyes widened and he let go of Jaskier’s hand so he could sit up in the bed. Jaskier followed him, keeping his eyes on his friend, who seemed almost dazed.

“I…” Geralt began, running a hand through his already messy hair. “Does that mean that… Jaskier, I don’t…” He stopped, looking lost.

Jaskier shifted a bit closer. “I think I’m trying to say that I might be open to some small changes in our… relationship?”

“As in…?”

“As in, I don’t really know what I want or where this might be heading, but…” He leaned closer, waited for Geralt to lift his arm and then snuggled up to his side. “It felt really good when you held me and if it’s something you would want, I would really like it if sharing a bed could be something we did… more?”

“Definitely!” Geralt said, nodding enthusiastically, then added: “But… just like this, right? You mean sharing a bed as in sleeping and…”

“Cuddling.”

“Yes. Good.”

Jaskier couldn’t help but smile at his expression. “And maybe in time… a bit more?”

“Like?” 

“I don’t know…” Jaskier leaned his head against Geralt’s shoulder and after a moment felt the strong arm wrap around his shoulder. “Holding hands? And… at some point maybe we could try kissing… again?”

Chapter Text

‘Some point’ was a rather vague term. It could be years down the line. Or it could be soon. It might in fact have been that very morning if Eskel hadn’t returned when he did. 

For a while they’d just been sitting there, Jaskier enjoying the closeness and the excited bubbling on the new possibilities opening up for them. 

They were still friends, nothing could ruin that, but now maybe they could be more. Not lovers—not in the traditional sense, at least. Jaskier wasn’t ready for that, though one day he might be. Maybe? 

So what would they be? Boyfriends? Like Lambert and him? Partners? A couple?

None of the terms felt quite right, but in time surely he would figure it out. There was no rush. Not anymore.

Only when Geralt let out a shaky sigh did Jaskier realise that he had rested his hand on Geralt’s chest and that his fingers had begun idly playing with the soft, thick hair.

“Oops, sorry!” He withdrew quickly and made the mistake of straightening up so he could turn to look Geralt in the eyes. 

Never had he seen his friend with an expression so open, so vulnerable and so… wanting…

Geralt caught his hand and brought it back, placing it over his heart. “Don’t be,” he said softly, his voice barely more than a rumbling purr. “You can touch as much as you want.”

“But I don’t want you to think that…” Jaskier stammered, feeling his cheeks heat up. “I mean… we’re in a bed and almost naked and I don’t…”

“Ssh…” Geralt shifted so he could turn towards him. “I know. So don’t hold back for me. Give me whatever you are comfortable with and if it ever becomes too much…”

“You’ll tell me?” Jaskier licked his lips and failed completely at keeping his eyes off Geralt’s.

“I promise.” 

They had both started to lean in when the door swung open and Eskel cursed. “I knew I should have knocked!”

“Then why the hell didn’t you?” Geralt snarled, glaring at him.

“Where’s the fun in that?” Eskel winked at them as he passed the bed to get to the kitchen. “Put on clothes and make some tea. I hope you have a toaster somewhere.”

“I…” Jaskier giggled as he got out of bed and grabbed a t-shirt off the floor. “I actually don’t know. I guess we’ll have to see what Zoltan left behind.”

Breakfast was slightly awkward with neither Jaskier nor Geralt knowing exactly how to act while Eskel took an almost perverse pleasure in teasing them, though he was obviously delighted at them finally, sort of, getting together.

While Eskel was taking the dishes over to the sink, Jaskier leaned closer to Geralt and asked in a hushed voice: “What about Lambert? Do you think he’ll be upset?”

Geralt shrugged. “He might not be thrilled, but I think he’s moving on and he’d want you to be happy.”

“I guess. But still… It does feel kinda shitty.”

“I’ll talk to him if you want.”

Jaskier almost nodded, then stopped himself. “No, I think it should be me. I’m gonna call him.”

They spent the rest of the morning unpacking the few boxes he had brought and then Eskel, who turned out to be a lot more domestic than Jaskier would ever have guessed, made a list of things he’d need, mainly for the kitchen and bathroom, patiently explaining to Jaskier that a toaster was more important than a cappuccino maker.

“I can afford both!” Jaskier insisted.

“Yes, but where are you gonna put it?” Eskel shook his head. “You don’t have limitless counter space anymore.”

“I never had limitless counter space,” Jaskier objected. “Yen was the supreme ruler of our shared kitchen, and the one I had before wasn’t much bigger than this.”

“And did that kitchen have room for a cappuccino maker?”

“I don’t know… Didn’t have one!”

“And you did fine without it.”

“But I want one!!! Elihal got this really nice new model for his workroom and…”

“And you’re spending half your time there anyway, from what I’ve heard.”

“Not anymore, if I’m going to be managing this place…”

Geralt cleared his throat and they both turned to look at him.

“I think this pub could really benefit from expanding its repertoire,” he said, smiling. “Certainly the Novigrad crowd would appreciate a good cup of coffee while listening to the music.”

“Geralt, you’re a genius!” Jaskier hugged him and kissed his cheek before rushing to find his phone so he could call Zoltan.

It was only after he’d convinced his boss/partner that they needed to go look at advanced coffeemakers and maybe hire a part-time barista that he realised that Geralt had remained frozen in place, his wide eyes and puzzled smile making Eskel shake with suppressed giggles.

…

Over the following weeks, Jaskier settled into his new flat, got the hang of his new job and spoke almost daily to both Geralt and Yennefer, the latter insisting that he couldn’t live without them and might as well give up his foolish ideas and ‘come home’.

He did, occasionally, think about calling Lambert, but he wasn’t sure exactly what to say and the more he thought about it, the more it seemed like a conversation they should be having face to face. Next time he came to Oxenfurt, he’d look him up.

He just wasn’t entirely sure when that was going to happen, since he really had his hands full. Getting a new coffee maker had somehow turned into getting the whole place renovated, and with Zoltan busy with wedding plans, most of the decisions and meetings were left up to Jaskier. 

Not that he minded. He was having the time of his life.

And things only got better when Yen, deciding that she could no longer ‘sit and wait for him’, showed up, demanding that he took the weekend off to show her around Novigrad. What she really wanted was, of course, to grill Jaskier about what exactly was going on with him and Geralt. 

Which, unfortunately, wasn’t very much, since they’d only met up once for a quick lunch when Geralt was passing through the area for a job the week before. They’d talked and then gone for a walk, hand in hand along the less smelly parts off the docks. They’d shared a long hug before Geralt got back in his car. And that was it.

“But you’re still like… a couple?” Yennefer asked, sounding oddly hesitant.

Jaskier sighed. “To be honest, I’m not sure what we are. I just know that we are something and that it’s a process. That we’re moving towards becoming… more.” 

Yen tutted and reached across the café table they’d been hogging for the past couple of hours, to cup his burning cheek. “Oh, honey. I’m so happy for you.”

He smiled and leaned in to the touch. Then he noticed a subtle shift of her eyes.

“What is it?” he asked, feeling his shoulders tense. “Is something wrong? Has he said anything?”

“No!” Yen shook her head. “It’s just… He and I, we… Y’know, we haven’t done anything, but last time he was over at our… my place, I could swear the chemistry was still there and…”

Jaskier needed less than a second to think about it. He grinned and reached up to take Yennefer’s hand, grasping it between both of his. 

“You have my permission… no, my blessing, to sleep with Geralt.”

“Are you sure? You don’t mind? I mean, he’s with you…”

“And I’m not sleeping with him. Don’t know if that’s ever going to happen. And I barely see him once a month, so what kind of prick would I be if I asked him to remain celibate for me?”

Yennefer let out a relieved laugh, but it morphed into a frown and then one of her trademarked piercing glares. “Does that mean that you…?”

It was Jaskier’s turn to squirm. “Not really, I… We haven’t talked about it. I guess we should.”

He hadn’t even thought about it, actually. Which was kind of surprising. Considering how active he’d been during his first months in Novigrad and the fact that his promotion had definitely not made him less interesting in the eyes of the local ladies, it was startling to realise that he’d not even flirted with anyone since he’d moved in to the top floor. Since he and Geralt had woken up together.

His face must be showing at least some of what he was thinking, because Yen put her other hand over his and gave it a squeeze. “You definitely should talk,” she said. “And not just because I’m getting restless. I’m not going to let you two fuck this up by being your usual awkward selves.”

Jaskier sputtered indignantly.

That night, he texted Geralt to let him know he was coming down to Oxenfurt the next day.