"Your nose is cute." For le dialogue prompts 💖
ohhhhh boy Comfy. You always hit me with that good shit, don’t you?
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“Your bard isn’t bad looking,” Eskel observes. He’s leaning against the wall, watching as Jaskier splits wood in the courtyard and piles it up neatly along the wall nearest the kitchen door. “In fact, I rather enjoy looking at him.”
“Not a bad conversationalist either,” Lambert adds helpfully from a few feet away. Geralt grinds his teeth and keeps his arms crossed over his chest. “Want to play rock-paper-shears over him, Eskel?”
“I’ll win,” the older Witcher smirks. Geralt looks up then, surprise and confusion bright on his face. The other two feign ignorance and begin their game of luck.
“What are you going to do if you win?” Lambert asks, still ignoring Geralt entirely.
“I’m going to ask him to read with me after supper,” Eskel says, “And then if he enjoys my company, perhaps I’ll ask him to take a break from his grouchy White Wolf and spend some time on the path with me instead. Maybe he’d like songs about someone who looks after him and says nice things about his music and his taste in literature. What about you, Lambert?”
“I think I’ll start by complimenting his taste in doublets,” the youngest Wolf replies. “The color he chose yesterday matched his pretty blue eyes so well and really brought out the rosy blush in his cheeks. Do you think that might win him over?”
“Perhaps.”
They play one round and Eskel wins. Geralt grows more and more tense as he watches in utter silence. They tie twice before Lambert wins the fourth round. “Ah, tied game. One last round to see who wins their chance at the bard’s affections?”
There’s a deep, feral snarl and their white-haired sibling tears off in Jaskier’s direction. “Fucking finally,” Lambert whispers loud enough for only Eskel to hear.
“Jaskier!” Geralt calls, “Come here a moment, there’s uhm, there’s something important I have to tell you.”
“Yes, dear heart?” Jaskier wipes the sweat from his brow with the back of his hand and settles into a comfortable lean against the axe handle. He’s never looked less like a bard or more like a Witcher in his life and it does something odd to Geralt’s stomach; it feels queasy, almost like he’s eaten bad meat but not quite as violent. “What is it, Geralt?”
“You, uh-” he falters for a moment before drawing a calming breath and continuing on the way he knows he must. “Your nose is cute.”
“Excuse me?”
“Your doublets are nice. Your skin is very soft and you always smell so good. I like the way you cut your hair and the way you braid mine when I let you. I like the way you take care of me even though I have fast healing and the way you don’t listen to me when I tell you to stay out of harm’s way on the Path. I uhm, I like you, Jaskier, and I want you to stay with me for the rest of the winter. Maybe forever.”
“Are you...proposing?” Jaskier giggles. “Geralt, really, what brought this on?”
He turns to look at his brothers, but the other two are nowhere to be found.
“Fuck.”
“Is this a prank?” Jaskier sounds far less happy, now. “Are you... are you and the others playing some kind of mean joke?”
Geralt’s heart flies into his throat. Gods, no! He’d never do that to his best friend and unrequited love!
Rather than let Jaskier suffer another moment of doubt, Geralt pulls him into his arms and crashes their lips together. The bard is an enthusiastic kisser, it turns out, and returns the affection tenfold, wrapping himself around Geralt like a cloak or clinging vine. They kiss passionately, steaming where they stand in the winter of Kaer Morhen’s empty courtyard.
Inside the keep, Lambert and Eskel exchange high-fives.
