#floraldocswrites

After the water had boiled and the tea had had some time to steep, Geralt left his own mug to cool on the counter and grabbed Jaskier’s to bring it to the other man. He remembered the flowers, so he grabbed the vase as well.

With a mug in one hand and the vase of flowers in the other, Geralt made his way into the living room. Jaskier had switched from plucking his guitar to playing the piano in the time it took Geralt to make the tea. He was seated on the bench still wearing his silky floral patterned robe as he played a melody on the keys. Geralt wouldn’t be surprised if he wasn’t wearing anything else under it.

Geralt gracefully made his way around the various papers and notebooks that littered the floor. He placed the mug of hot tea down on the end table that was out of the way of any potential flailing limbs. He then stood behind Jaskier and placed the vase of flowers on top of the piano within his eye line.

Jaskier’s elegant fingers stilled on the keys. “You picked flowers for me?” Jaskier asked. He tilted his head backwards, leaning it against Geralt’s torso as he looked up at him.

“The wild roses bloomed,” Geralt said in response.

“Thank you, darling. They’re lovely, just like you.”

Geralt hummed and leaned closer. He wrapped his arms around Jaskier and slid a hand down the deep V of his tied robe to rub his chest. “Only for you,” Geralt rumbled.

Jaskier brought his left hand up and placed it on top of Geralt’s. Jaskier then brought Geralt’s hand to his lips and placed a kiss on his knuckles.

“Did you paint anything today?” Jaskier asked.

“No, just tended to the garden. Maybe I’ll have to paint the wild roses.”

“Just don’t actually paint on them, this isn’t Alice in Wonderland,” Jaskier joked.

“Very funny,” Geralt huffed. “Wild roses aren’t even the same as roses.” He kissed Jaskier’s head and stepped back. “What are you working on?”

“Oh, just your song.”

“My song?”

“Yes, the song about you for this album.”

“Not every album needs to have a song about me, Jask.”

“Yes it does. You made that request over ten years ago–”

“I was just teasing you,” Geralt interrupted, “You know I don’t need songs to know you love me.”

“And that is exactly why you deserve songs written about you, even if it is just one per album.”

“One per album is quite a lot with how many albums you’ve made,” Geralt said bashfully.

“And again, you deserve them all. And it’s only fair, if you paint paintings for me, I can write songs for you,” Jaskier said as he turned around on the piano bench so he was facing Geralt.

“Hmm. How’s this one coming?” Geralt asked.

“I can’t decide if it should be for piano or guitar. I’m leaning towards guitar. There is already a lot of piano in the other songs and the guitar feels a bit more lively which feels fitting.”

“I didn’t know I gave off lively vibes,” Geralt said as he backed away and took a seat on the nearby sofa.

“Of course you do, you are alive aren’t you?” Jaskier asked.

“And you’re just being semantic.”

“Well words are my liveli—heh, heh, my livelihood. The same way paints and colors are yours. Anyway we both know I am a fecund resource for anger—oh that is a good lyric, I have to write that one down,” Jaskier said as he scrambled for a pen to write it down on one of his numerous pieces of scrap paper. Geralt didn’t know how he kept track of  them, then again he did once write an entire song on paper napkins. “Anyway,” Jaskier said once he wrote down the lyric so he wouldn’t forget it, “Hopefully we don’t need to add my semanticsm to the list.”

“What does fecund even mean?” Geralt asked.

“Oh you know,” Jaskier waved a hand around, “....fecund?”

Geralt laughed. “You can’t define a word with itself.”

“Ugh, fine, where’d my phone run off to?” Jaskier asked rhetorically  as he shifted papers around and bent over to peer under the piano bench. Geralt watched in amusement. There was an “ahah” when he pulled his phone out from under a stack of papers that were under the piano bench.

“Fecund: ‘producing or capable of producing an abundance of offspring or new growth,’ eh, I guess maybe not the most appropriate of words for the situation.”

“I mean, you are good at inciting anger when you want to. Or when you forget to do the dishes.”

“Excuse you, I have gotten a lot better at not forgetting and oh, oh new lyric,” Jaskier said as he grabbed his guitar from its stand within arm’s reach of the piano bench. He shifted so he was straddling the bench, Geralt was surprised he didn’t flash him, not that Geralt would have complained if he did.

Jaskier played a melody and jauntily sang, “But between sex and death and tryin’ to keep the kitchen clean, remember wild roses bloom best in ruins forever after, something something, I haven’t thought of the other lyrics yet.” Jaksier winked at Geralt as he set the guitar to the side again.

Geralt huffed a laugh and rolled his eyes. “How you can think of things like that on the spot I’ll never understand.”

“Aww, you’re impressed with me. Say more things like that with that look of wonder on your face and you’ll surely make me blush.”

“Maybe even enough that the blush will reach that deep V of your robe, hm?”

“Are you flirting with me Geralt Rivia?”

“Never,” Geralt teased. He leaned back against the couch cushions and just kept looking at Jaskier. He wanted to look at his face all the time.

Jaskier finally stood up from the piano bench then. His knees popped and he stretched out his back before walking towards Geralt on the sofa. Geralt watched him, admired him.

Jaskier sauntered over, Geralt wasn’t sure if he was trying to be seductive or if his leg fell asleep. Either way, it was endearing.

Geralt sat up a little bit as Jaskier got closer and grabbed his hand. He pulled Jaskier down to straddle his lap. The robe stretched out over his knees and the belt threatened to come undone. Geralt rested his  hands on Jaskier’s silk-covered thighs while Jaskier cradled Geralt’s face in his hands.

Geralt looked up and Jaskier traced his cheekbones with his thumbs.

“I hope your face is the last thing I see,” Jaskier said to Geralt, looking directly into his eyes, blue meeting amber. It was as if Jaskier had read his mind.

“When?” Geralt breathed out.