#witcherauseptember

“I know,” Jaskier agreed. “That’s the worst part. I feel like it’s my fault being blindsided by this, as though I should have known something was going to happen today.”

Essi snorted. “It’s not your fault your ex is the worst.”

“No, but I was with him for almost 3 years. I don’t know. That’s my fault.”

“Don’t be stupid,” she said. “Look at this desperate fucker. Do you actually think he’s winning? He might be in a new relationship but the look of this guy makes my vagina want to shrivel up and die.”

Jaskier took her phone from her and looked again. Yeah. Yikes. Valdo was definitely scraping the bottom of the barrel with that one. Jaskier hadn’t even tried to join any dating sites post-breakup, but he was pretty sure there were better options. It wasn’t even the guy’s looks so much as he just screamed skeevy douchebag. It was making Jaskier’s metaphorical vagina also want to die.

“You need to get drunk. Maybe laid.”

“No,” Jaskier said, an idea starting to form as he looked at the relationship status change. “No. I need to match pettiness with pettiness. I need to find someone so hot that I’d have trouble getting him - let alone Valdo with his sad, small dick - and make sure to post a picture on Facebook.”

“Would that make you feel better?”

Jaskier smiled with teeth. “I think it would.”

***

It was their third bar of the evening and Essi was definitely sick of the manhunt. She probably hadn’t realized that when Jaskier was judging men fully objectively and not looking for matching personalities (relationship goals) or a willing body (one night stand goals) he had incredibly discerning tastes.

Probably too discerning.

“How about him?” Essi asked, barely looking up from her phone. She gestured to a guy sitting at the bar trying to make eye contact with a woman across the room.

“Ehh,” Jaskier said. “Sweater vest.”

Essi rolled her eyes. “But cute.”

“I’m not looking for cute. I’m looking for eye-searing hot.”

“I’m having trouble remembering how you’ve ever been in any relationships with these unrealistic expectations.”

“Valdo thought I was hot.” Jaskier thought about that for a moment. “Did I stay with someone for three years out of flattery?”

“Probably. Fuck. Get therapy.”

“I am.”

“You’re going to be working on tonight for a while.”

Fucking true. “Oh god, we just saw Valdo’s taste in men. Tell me true… am I ugly.”

“You’re spiraling.”

“That’s not an answer!”

“You’re spiraling!”

“Yes,” Jaskier agreed, pulling at his hair. “I’m so aware.”

“Based on the guy in his status update I’m going to guess you’re the hottest guy he could get.”

“You’re a good friend.” Jaskier pressed his head against her shoulder.

Then, a table opened up across the room, revealing the man sitting on the other side of it. “Holy shit.”

Essi looked up. Then she looked up. “Wow.”

“I hope he’s into men,” Jaskier said. “Or at least willing to play along with pretending to be for long enough for you to get a picture.”

“You’re going to walk up to that?” Essi asked. “You have more balls than brains.”

That was probably true.

***

“Hi, I’m Jaskier,” he opened with, dropping into the seat across from the gorgeous man. Up close he was even more startlingly pretty, with a chin dimple that highlighted his strong jaw and drew attention to his mouth. “And my boyfriend broke up with me two months ago, only to post his new relationship on Facebook today. Our three year anniversary. It’s the dickest of moves, right?”

The man hummed in agreement, but otherwise didn’t stop frowning in Jaskier’s general direction. Like someone waiting for him to get to the point. Jaskier saw that frown often.

“The reason for the oversharing is that I just forced my best friend to follow me to three different bars to find someone so phenomenally hot for me to spend time with and get picture proof, and here you are. I’d do jazz hands but you don’t seem like someone who responds well to jazz hands.”

“What are jazz hands?”

Whoa.

What a voice. What a sexy, sexy voice. Jaskier knew what he was talking about. He was a connoisseur of voices.

Jaskier wiggled his fingers at him. Tada! “Jazz hands.”

“Huh.” The man took a drink of his beer. “You want to use me as a revenge plot?”

“Exactly. Can I buy you a drink?”

The man gestured to his mostly full beer. “I’m not drinking to get drunk tonight.”

That was only a no to the beer. “Nachos or some other foodstuff?”

The guy seemed possibly interested in food.  

“Fine,” he agreed.  

****

Facebook: Julian Alfred Pankratz is in a relationship with Geralt of Rivia.

“Who’s Julian Pankratz?” Geralt muttered, staring at his phone.

“What?” Jaskier groaned, coming out a shitty sleep to a few realizations:

He’d gone home with the hottest guy on earth, which he should be pleased about, AND WAS PLEASED ABOUT

He might throw up

He’d done something last night. Something he’d said “that’s up for tomorrow Jaskier to sort out” because his drunk self was apparently a fucking masochist, and now Jaskier wasn’t really sure what that was.

Only Geralt was still scowling at his phone and seemed to know his real name.

So.

“Fuck,” Jaskier groaned. His mouth tasted like nachos and the regret of doing shots too late in life. He was 28 years old, not dead, but his hangover didn’t seem to know that.  “We didn’t get married , did we?”

“...”

Jaskier risked the light filtering in through the edges of the blinds to look at Geralt. His hair was beyond mussed - Jaskier didn’t know hair could get that tangled overnight. He was still frowning at his phone.

“I’ve been calling you Jaskier.”

“I go by Jaskier,” he promised. He was too busy having his own crises to deal with Geralt’s! For fucksakes. “Now, back to the marriage thing??”

“No.”

Phew. That was probably on him. He wasn’t sure people could actually get fake married overnight. Legally. He’d seen a lot of movies, though.

Ok. Next problem.  “I might throw up.”

Geralt turned his head slowly to look at him. Yikes. Too much beautiful-man-face in his face for this early in the morning.

“It’s eleven,” Geralt told him in the dry tone that told Jaskier he’d said that all outloud.

“Eleven after getting to bed at what? Five? Eugh, boo. Do you have any food?”

***

Geralt did have food.

Well, Geralt had protein bars and electrolytes, which was basically the same thing. Jaskier could always fall on top of a burger on his way home if he had to.  He’d finally looked at his phone by the time he was halfway through his breakfast.

107 new notifications.

What the fuck?

Julian Alfred Pankratz is in a relationship with Geralt of Rivia

Geralt and I were going to wait until announcing this wasn’t an asshole move, but now that it doesn’t really matter, I just wanted everyone to know that I’m doing GREAT.

Attached to it was the picture of the two of them together that Essi had taken with the caption of “I wouldn’t feel too sorry for Jaskier tonight”

His drunk self had a lot to answer for. No wonder Geralt had been scowling at his phone.

“I can’t believe I went Facebook Official with someone I haven’t even had sex with yet,” Jaskier mourned. “What is it, 2007?”

***

It took Jaskier almost the full day to recover enough to actually look through his comments on Facebook. By the time he had, they’d almost doubled and he’d made the mistake of clicking into Instagram to find one of those quintessential happy-relationship-our-feet-are-cute-together bullshit pictures. He had a different following on Instagram, mostly using it for pictures of himself singing.

Yikes. Yikes. Yikes. This wasn’t a contained problem, if you could call their mutual friends and families on Facebook that had been gathering in the wings for 15 years a contained problem . Fucking Facebook. Jaskier friended people he’d met once. He had a database of acquaintances. It was great for - you know - being a musician looking for gigs. He’d done 15 weddings in the last year.

It was pretty shitty when he’d faked having a boyfriend so people wouldn’t feel bad for him.

But, as he read through the comments and realized that some of them weren’t for him, he realized that maybe he wasn’t the one with the biggest problem.

Jaskier: Did you just come out?

Jaskier: Are you EVEN INTO MEN?

Jaskier: I REMEMBER YOU THINKING THIS WAS FUNNY AND AGREEING TO IT

Jaskier: BUT

Jaskier: I REGRET COMMITTING TO CAPS SO SOON BECAUSE I MEAN THIS IN CAPS AND BOLDED

Jaskier: WHOEVER LAMBERT IS JUST CONGRATULATED YOU ON FINALLY GETTING DICKED DOWN BECAUSE IT MIGHT MAKE YOU LESS GRUMPY

Geralt: I see you’ve read the comments

Geralt: my brother

Jaskier: YOUR BROTHER?!

Geralt: bold and caps?

Jaskier: and italics what the fuck. Why’d you let me do this?

Jaskier: wait.

Jaskier: WAIT

Geralt: there it is

Jaskier: this was your idea

Jaskier: did you use me to tell everyone you know that you’re gay or bi or whatever you identify as?

Jaskier: what a brilliant opportunity last night was for both of us

Geralt: you went back to sleep and didn’t process any of this yet, didn’t you?

Jaskier had been seen with that, fuck. He made a face at his phone even though Geralt couldn't see it.

A few moments later a response to Lambert popped up from Geralt himself.

@Lambert who says I haven’t been getting dicked down this entire time you heteronormative asshole

Followed by someone named Yennefer posting a picture of a strap on.

Who were these people? Could you love someone based on how their friends reacted to their ill-advised fake-relationship status change? Asking for a friend.

Geralt: for context, that’s my ex-wife

Geralt: we’re ok

Geralt: especially when she’s helping me fuck with my brother

***

Jaskier was debating the merits of asking Geralt if he wanted to come up with a break-up plan or just date when another comment showed up.

Vesemir left a comment:

You’ll bring him to brunch tomorrow?

Geralt left a comment:

We’ll be there

Vesemir left a comment:

Leave the frightening device at home

Geralt left a comment:

He doesn’t need it

This was followed by a string of variations of LOL and OH SHITs from about 7 different people. Jaskier watched it all unfold feeling like he’d stepped into the middle of something he didn’t understand - yet. He was definitely in trouble, if the way his heart rate increased at Geralt’s he doesn’t need it was any indication. It wasn’t even the dick reference, though that was amazing. It was the snappy, quick response. The underlying sarcasm.

Jaskier had a type. He could end a fake relationship that was based on seeing a searing hot guy across a room, but it was a bit harder when the guy had a personality he liked. If Geralt turned out to have a heart of gold, Jaskier was screwed and would probably be proposing marriage by year’s end.

Yeah, we’ll be there , he commented.

Geralt: my dad

Geralt: thanks

Jaskier: no problem

Jaskier : gonna call

“So I’m thinking,” Jaskier said the moment Geralt’s face showed up on the video call. He was squinting at his phone like no one had ever tried to video call him before.

“Hi,” Geralt replied, looking amused.

“I’ve been debating the merits of planning a breakup for our fake relationship or just… dating? I’m thinking maybe we should date? Do you have input?”

“Dating’s fine.”

“But do you… are you even attracted to me? Would you pick me?”

Oh fuck, what was that?! Something new to bring up in therapy.

Geralt tilted his head.  “You don’t know this about me yet, but I’m capable of saying no. Overly capable, some of my family might tell you.”

“So you’re not saying no?”

“I’m pretty confident I said yes instead.”

***

“As Jaskier’s best friend and the only witness,” Essi said into the microphone, holding up a glass of champagne to salute the two of them. “Our happy couple gave me full permission to tell the story of what happened the night Geralt and Jaskier met. Like Jaskier himself, the story is partially an embarrassing tale of bad decisions, half-cocked plans, and a lot of heart.”

Jaskier grinned, and nudged his shoulder into Geralt’s.

Geralt knew he should be taking it as a threat, but it was a laughable one. He considered chomping his teeth just for the amusement of it.  “No.”

“Then maybe you should leave so someone else can have your table! I don’t need to be universally liked, but this is just insulting! You’re just. Sitting there. Complaining about a band you’ve never even heard of, right in front of the lead singer by the way, like some kind of hot but rude jackass.”

“I’m trying to leave,” Geralt answered, shooting Eskel a significant look. Eskel, the ass, just looked like he was seconds away from bursting into laughter.

“Try harder,” the guy suggested, straightening and digging into the shoulder bag he was carrying. He drew out a CD in a cardboard sleeve and a gold sharpie, scribbling something on the cardboard and flicking it in front of Geralt. “Gratuit for you, darling. Maybe you’ll learn some taste.”

The man could do scathing sarcasm. Geralt would give him that.

Geralt stood, picking up the CD automatically, maybe out of some long-remembered politeness of taking something handed to him. It was also the reason he kept finding fliers in the front seat of his car. “If this is your idea of taste,” he said to the guy, gesturing to his vibrant sequin shirt, “then I’m better off without any.”

He walked out, enjoying the affronted gasp behind him way more than he should.

***

Of course, the joke was on him two weeks later when halfway through his drive through the Mahakam mountains, his truck radio gave out. Geralt, typically not the biggest fan of music, had been using it to mask the death rattle coming from Roach’s undercarriage.

He didn’t have the money to fix her until he finished this contract, and as someone who took care of his belongings it was an aggravating reminder of his failures.

With a sigh, he half-remembered where he’d thrown the CD from the night with the annoying musician, and one-handedly dug it out from the garbage. He shoved it into the CD player with little fanfare.

***

By his trip back, Geralt had listened to the CD a total of three times and had to admit it was okay.

***

(Which, from Geralt, regarding music, was pretty much the equivalent of praise.)

***

Geralt turned the key to start the ignition, tensed as always that this might be the time Roach didn’t start. Once again, she came through for him and the music came on automatically.

“What’s this?” Eskel asked pointedly, his tone and expression telling Geralt that he knew exactly what it was.  

“Don’t.”

“Oh, I will,” Eskel retorted, but then didn’t follow it up with any ribbing, which was frankly more disturbing than if he had. It told Geralt he was planning.

Fuck.

***

Geralt had listened to the CD countless times over the course of the month it took to save up enough to fix Roach. Without the rattling, he no longer needed the music to distract his ears, and he popped the CD out of his dashboard like a man freed. 

It was the first time he actually looked at the cardboard sleeve. It was just a stylized silhouette of a musician with the band’s name, website, and social media.

To my #1 fan

Jaskier

Fuck, he could hear the tone it was meant in. That scathing sarcasm that landed like paint thinner. Despite the tone, or maybe because of, he could feel the burst of pleasure in his chest. 

He was halfway through scrolling through the band’s Instagram before realizing what he was doing, seeking out pictures of Jaskier. He realized, suddenly, that he’d been listening to the man’s voice for over a month.

Geralt closed his eyes.

Fuck.

He closed the app.

***

(He may have accidentally followed the band’s page.

Then he may have accidentally found Jaskier’s page and followed that too. The man had 3,000 followers, he wouldn’t notice another one.

He may have also accidentally liked a picture, but no more than two.

Fuck, three.

But Geralt was old and social media confused him. Wasn’t his fault.)

***

“This is a lovely jacket,” Jaskier said, somewhere behind Geralt. “I love a man who feels confident wearing leather.” 

A pause.

“Oh, you’ve mistaken me, I’m flirting with your jacket. Leather looks a bit like I’m playing dress-up in daddy’s clothes when I wear it. I get leather-envy.”

Geralt closed his eyes for a moment, trying to work through too many things going through his brain. First and foremost was the realization of how easily he’d known that voice, despite only hearing Jaskier speak that once (and also every time he’d introduced the bonus “work in progress” track on the CD). Second was what Jaskier was saying.

Geralt had a leather jacket. Geralt also wanted to hit his head against the table for thinking that in the context of listening to Jaskier flirt.

Third, he realized that this had been what Eskel had been planning: secretly orchestrating Geralt meeting Jaskier again.

Fuck. He wasn’t ready for this. He wasn’t even wearing his nice shirt.

He wasn’t even wearing his nice shirt?! The idea he cared if he was wearing his nice shirt or not was the last, and worst, of all the realizations.

Jaskier walked by their table and then paused, backtracked, and looked at Geralt. “I know you.”

Geralt nodded, not far enough into his crisis to actually talk with Jaskier.

“Oh” Jaskier said, and his shoulders slumped. “Right. The gorgeous man who hates local music. I wasted a CD on you.”

“Not wasted,” Eskel said, while Geralt was trying to formulate a way to say ‘I think I was wrong, and maybe am into you’ in a normal way. Jaskier thought he was gorgeous and Geralt had a crush and a lasting bad impression.  “He listened to it. Didn’t you, Geralt?”

“Did you?”

“It was good,” Geralt tried. He didn’t miss that Eskel had managed to drop his name, casually, which made him forgive almost the entire plot of dragging him here in the first place.

Jaskier’s face lit up, which was -- fuck. “Did you?” he preened, leaning close to Geralt just like he had the first time. “Was it?”

“I… liked it.”

“Praise!” Jaskier crowed, slipping into the booth next to Geralt so his knee was pressed firmly against Geralt’s thigh. “My bread and butter. Do it again.”

His hand landed on Geralt’s knee in a way that was less to steady himself and more as a flirtation. It was something Geralt should and would discourage, right after he finished leaning into it.

“I listened to it in my truck. Every day for a month.”

And that. Wasn’t great, was it? If the way Eskel took a drink from his pint to hide his amusement was any indication, it wasn’t great.

Jaskier blinked. Then his expression shifted from teasing to thoughtful. “Do you normally listen to music in your truck?”

“The radio, sometimes.”

Jaskier tilted his head to the side.  “Then that is praise. Thank you.”

Geralt nodded, dropping his hand so the tip of his finger brushed against Jaskier’s. He’d always been better with physical flirting, anyway. When he tried flirting, his banter tended to have barbs.

Jaskier looked down at his hand.  “Huh.”

***

“Hi I’m Jaskier. We’re going to try something new tonight: being a 90s cover band! First up, a cover of the 90s hit Baby’s Got Back, because there’s a man in the audience whose attention I’m trying to get, and I never know what’s too far. And Baby, he’s got Back. Second, we’ll go for the Spice Girls Wannabe My Lover, because I totally Googled 90s music before getting up here and both of them were in the first results and I’m trying to make a point. What? It’s called Wannabe? Fine. Corrected.” 

“Sorry,” Eskel said beside Geralt, looking pained at the spectacle Jaskier was making. 

That was the thing. Geralt should hate the attention, but. 

But.

Eskel looked over at him and his frown grew deeper.  “Are you smiling?”

“No,” he lied, because even if his mouth wasn’t stretched into a grin, Eskel knew him well enough and for long enough to recognize that Geralt didn’t hate what was happening. He wasn’t not smiling.

On stage, Jaskier reached over to grab a phone offered to him by the bass player.  “Oh! Oh! Essi just reminded me of Damn, I Wish I Was Your Lover, like the good bro she is. Yes. That. A better suggestion than Spice Girls. I mean, I don’t really care if you want to get with my friends. Essi isn’t even into men.”

The drummer smashed the cymbals, making Jaskier jump.

“That’s my cue that I’ve taken the gag too far. We’re not actually doing 90s night, but thanks for not immediately booing us off stage!  And Geralt, maybe if you could slide into my DMs on Insta?”

“Joke’s on him for thinking you have Instagram,” Eskel observed. He was already done his drink and looked like he was ready to leave after sitting as the third party to some truly awkward flirting. 

Geralt didn’t say anything.

“You have Instagram?” Eskel realized.  “Let me guess, next you’re going to tell me you know what sliding into someone’s DMs means.”

Geralt shrugged.

Eskel squinted at him.  “You didn’t get a smartphone until 2015. You think Tinder is for pyromaniacs.”

Geralt shrugged again.

“Wooooo,” Jaskier said on stage, holding up both his phone and the chorus of the song he was singing.  “We have contact! Geralt says:  Hi. Thank you everyone in this room for putting up with my nonsense! You have great energy. Hold on, I’m just going to...” he said, typing into his phone. “Tell me what to say!”

The audience seemed to be used to Jaskier engaging with them, because a few yelled out suggestions, including one outright filthy potential sext that Jaskier gave a ‘are you really?’ glance to.  “Oh! I know.”

Jaskier: You really do have a great butt. I noticed when you left.

Geralt: You sure you’re not flirting with my leather jacket?

Geralt watched as Jaskier read the message and then floundered a little in surprise.

Geralt: I’ll wear it if you want.

Geralt: Maybe tomorrow night?

“YES!” Jaskier replied out loud.  “Yes! I have a date for tomorrow night. Now, we should maybe re-start this song?”