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During their years of travel, Jaskier had become accustomed to Geralt’s little habits. The yank Jaskier would feel if he got too close to a drowner infested river. Being pushed to the ground and told to sit and stay while Geralt went out hunting. The arm wrapped around his shoulder and pulling him close when Jaskier would keep eye contact a little too long with someone at a tavern. All little quirks that Jaskier now anticipated. If he could hear Gerealt quickly walking up behind him he braced himself for the pullback that was soon to come. Would already be settled in and waiting for Geralt’s return before he had even left the camp to hunt. Admittedly, staring at random bar patrons just so Geralt would pull him under his arm.
As the years passed and the two grew closer, their relationship budding like a rose in spring, and Geralt started to get more physical, an incredibly welcome addition to their dynamic. During quiet moments at camp, Geralt would run a hand across Jaskier’s scalp and fix his hair. They would sit together in front of the fire, Jaskier in Geralt’s lap, Geralt's head resting in the crook of Jaskier’s neck, occasionally brushing his face up his neck and planting gentle kisses behind his ear.
And Jaskier reciprocated tenfold. Brushing Geralt’s hair was part of the morning routine now, braiding being an added bonus should Geralt be patient enough and not want to get up and go right away in the morning. Stitching and dressing wounds had always been part of their dynamic, but now Jaskier would add a small kiss over the wound before wrapping it in bandages. Bathing was now a group effort. They would share a tub if Geralt wasn’t covered head to toe in blood and swamp water. Geralt’s hair was all Jaskier’s, this was well known to Geralt, and in return Jaskier’s back and shoulders were Geralt’s.
Should Geralt be covered in the aforementioned blood and swamp water, all of Geralt’s was Jaskier’s, in these situations Geralt’s only job was to lay back and move as Jaskier saw fit. Jaskier also got into the habit of forcing Geralt to bathe even if they were miles away from civilization. These times were less enjoyable as Jaskier would simply find a stream with a small waterfall, or any type of clean looking running water, roll his pants to his knees and drag Geralt into the water. Washing his clothes and body was one in the same during these times and Jaskier was much rougher with him. Dunking his head with little warning, dumping freezing water over his back. Yanking the shirt from his back and splaying out against a rock or over a tree branch before returning to Geralt and scrubbing away any remaining viscera. The victorious kisses Geralt would revive were worth it though. After a bath well done Jaskier would kiss Geralt like an artist appreciating his handy work, the chill of the water quickly forgotten by the radiant warmth coming from Jaskier’s smile.
Jaskier also found himself grabbing the back of Geralt’s armor from time to time. He would do it instinctively whenever Geralt was about to rush into a self sacrificial situation or simply out of a conversation. Jaskier didn’t do it often but whenever he would Geralt would be reminded of the strength the bard possessed. If Geralt pulled against the grab he would have to put in more effort than he thought necessary to break free.
Then the mountain, the break up, the years apart, and the child surprise. Geralt found himself doing the same things with Ciri as he would with Jaskier. Telling her to sit and stay at camp while he got food, dragging her out of situations by the back of her clothes, and brushing and braiding her hair regularly. He would keep her close, having her ride behind him on Roach and wrapping his cloak around her on colder days. But he would also take Ciri hunting with him, teaching her how to set traps and how to use the forest to hide and stalk prey.
Then a reunion of sorts, though short lived, Geralt sends Ciri off with Jaskier to Kaer Morhen and anticipates a better reunion there. But before that Jaskier is left alone with Ciri and the other witchers at the Keep.
The other witchers welcomed Ciri in with open arms, after Vesemir greeted her with a forehead touch and a pat on the back, the rest of the witchers were soon to follow. It was odd to Jaskier to see someone else touch foreheads like that. Geralt had done that to him a few times when they met up for the season and parted for the winter, he had even seen him do it to Ciri before she and Jaskier had set off. He figured that this was where Geralt learned the greeting and was just what witchers did. Perhaps it was safer than shaking hands? He had known of people who would grab your forearm instead of hand to check that you weren’t holding a knife, this may be something like that? It would be rather hard to hide a knife or blade or sharp object of any sort in one’s hairline of course.
Vesemir did not welcome Jaskier in right away like he had with Ciri. He stood back, chest out and proud, and looked Jaskier over. Jaskier felt a weight on his shoulders under Vesemir’s gaze and he averted his eyes to the floor between them.
“Jaskier,” Vesemir said, Jaskier lifted his eyes and looked up at him. “Geralt’s told us a lot about you.” He strutted towards Jaskier, gripped the back of his head, and pulled their foreheads together. “Welcome to Kaer Morhen.”
Around him, other witchers gathered in and slapped friendly hands on his back and pulled him in to touch foreheads. There was a joyous energy in the keep that lasted the rest of the day and into the night.
Jaskier and Ciri were given food, drink, and rooms next to each other. Once Ciri had been put to bed Jaskier found himself surrounded by witcheres. Each of them separately putting hands on his shoulders, sometimes pulling him in close to them, sometimes guiding him to sit with them. There was so much touching Jaskier was surprised that this type of contact came from the same place Geralt called home; he was sure he had wandered into the wrong Keep on accident.
Lambert, in particular, had taken a liking to Jaskier. He always seemed to put himself at Jaskier’s side, always had a hand on his back, and was the first one to wrap him up in a proper hug. There were even a few times when Jaskier had been deep in conversation with someone and suddenly he would be pulled back by the collar of his shirt only to find Lambert tugging him back and under his arm.
The attention felt nice.
Jaskier had gone so long with an empty pit in his heart and the affections he was getting from Lambert and the other witchers had started to fill that pit. He and Lambert would joke together with the occasional flirt thrown in, In a way that could be part of the joke or genuine depending on the reaction it got.
One day Jaskier in particular, when Jaskier was in the kitchen preparing an after training meal for Ciri, Lambert came up behind him and rested his chin on his shoulder. He was leaning forward and had his hands behind his back but rested his head right up in the crook of Jaskier’s neck.
“Hello.” Jaskier greeted with a little tune in his voice, holding his shoulder up so Lambert could rest his head more comfortably.
“What are you making?” Lambert asked, voice low and rumbling in his throat.
“Just making something for Ciri for when she and Vesemir are done outside.”
Lambert slid his head down so his lips were resting on Jaskier’s neck and took a deep breath in. Shivers ran up the muscles in Jackier’s back that all joined at where Lambert’s mouth rested. Jaskier felt large, rough, hands slide around his waist and his heart jumped into his throat. Memories of Geralt making the same motions flashed in Jaskier’s mind and his chest cringed in on itself. Jaskier grabbed Lambert’s hands and held them in place before they could drift any lower. Lambert pressed a soft kiss into Jaskier’s neck and he twitched, shrugged Lambert’s head off of his shoulder, and moved Lambert’s hands off of his hips. The two men stepped away from each other, now on opposite sides of the table Jaskier had been at.
“No, that-that I'm going to have to say no to.” Jaskier said, holding his hands up before combining them through his hair. Lambert grumbled under his breath and shifted his mouth.
“Well,” He said, raising an eyebrow. “Can you blame me?” The two looked at each other, cheeky smiles slowly growing on both of their faces. The smiles only got so friendly before Ciri’s cheerful voice burst through the silence in the kitchen and shook both of them from their moment and back into Kaer Morhen.
“JASKIER!” Ciri yelled once again, running into the kitchen, panting, and red faced. “They made it!” Jaskier already knew who “they” were and his heart again jumped to his throat. He felt lighter than air when Ciri grabbed the cuff of his shirt and pulled him out of the kitchen.
There they were, Yennefer and Geralt, standing in the main entrance with Vesemir and Eskel. With all the physical affection he had been receiving the past few days Jaskier didn't hesitate to greet Yennefer with a warm, enveloping hug. Yennefer was surprised to say the least but returned the hug.
“I knew it was a mistake to hug you in that bar.” She teased as they parted.
“Honestly, darling, it was a mistake for you to come into that bar in the first place.” They hugged once more, a quick, affirming squeeze before Jaskier turned to Geralt. Neither had time to think about what was happening before Geralt was in Jaskier’s arms.
Jaskier felt Geralt chuckle in his chest before hugging him back. Oddly, Jaskier heard Geralt sniff just before they parted and he looked at the witcher with confusion. Geralt’s face was also confused and he held Jaskier at arm's length and looked him up and down.
“Uuh, nice to see you again?” Jaskier said. He heard Eskel snort to his side and looked up in time to see Vesemir elbow him in the gut.
“Geralt!” Lambert greeted, having finally made his way from the kitchen. Geralt let go of Jaskier and stared daggers at his brother. A heavy sheet of tension fell over the room as they locked eyes, not wanting to be the first one to look away.
“Boys,” Vesemir said, attempting to interrupt the stare down but only managing to have them turn their heads towards him and keeping eye contact. “Why don't we let Geralt and Yennefer settle in before the fighting starts.”
“Aye,” Eskel said, grabbing Lambert by the shoulder and pulling him away from Geralt. “We wouldn’t want to scare anyone would we?”
“No.” Lambert agreed, allowing himself to be led away and breaking eye contact first.
Geralt watched them walk away for a moment before turning his attention to Vesemir and the group. Yennefer and Vesemir both looked at him with poorly concealed smiles while Jaskeir and Ciri were just confused.
“My lady,” Vesemir said, turning to Yennefer and extending a hand. “I would be honored to show you to your room if you would be so kind as to tell me of your travels.” He was exaggerating his politeness in an attempt to ease some tension as well as get Yennefer out of a situation neither of them needed to be in.
“That sounds lovely, good sir.” Yennefer said, matching his tone and daintily placing her hand in Vesemir’s.
“Can I join? I want to hear everything!” Ciri asked.
“Of course, your majesty, I shall regale you both with the trials and tribulations we faced getting here.” And with that Jaskier and Geralt were alone for the first time in a while. Again.
The move Lambert made in the kitchen was stuck in Jaskier’s throat and he felt that if he opened his mouth he would spill everything that happened while Geralt was gone. But he didn’t. Instead, he held his hands together and tapped his thumbs against each other, waiting for Geralt to speak first. Geralt ground his teeth together and looked at the floor before deciding on what he wanted to say.
“Come with me.” He said, his voice still its normal gruff texture but soft in delivery. Jaskier’s face lit up slightly at the invitation and he gladly followed Geralt up to his room. They didn’t talk much on their way up but as soon as they stepped through the door Geralt was more than ready to talk.
“How did my brothers treat you?” He asked, dropping his pack next to the bed.
“Your brothers?” Jaskier repeated, the rest of the witchers called each other brothers but Jaskier thought it was more in a ‘brothers in arms’ type of term. Geralt used it as if he was talking about family. “They seem to like me.” Jaskier said with a smile. Geralt looked up at him, stone faced and doing his best to conceal the envy simmering in his chest.
“They do?” He asked.
“Yes. So much touching- I was expecting everyone to be closed off and quiet and broody like you but they’re not.”
Geralt turned away and hummed, digging through his pack. He wasn’t looking for anything, he was trying to quiet his envy that was now at a boil. Jaskier noticed and stepped closer to him, tilting his head to one side.
“Is everything alright?” He asked.
No. You smell like my bastard brother.
“Fine.” Geralt said through his teeth.
Jaskier felt himself sink and his cheery expression dropped. “You’re mad at me.” He said. He waited with tentative twitches in his chest for Geralt to whip around and tell him off for getting in the way of things at his home and tell him to leave and never come back.
But he didn’t, Geralt sighed, stood, and turned to hold Jaskier’s hands. His hands were so much bigger and battered than Jaskier’s. His hands were still cold from the outside and rough from years of hard work and fighting. Jaskier’s hands were warm, a little calloused from his lute, and soft. Except his right hand, this hand was damaged and burned, Geralt held this hand more gently, letting Jaskier rest his hand more than actually holding it.
Geralt rubbed the back of Jaskier’s left hand with his thumb and looked down at them while he talked.
“I’m sorry Jaskier.” He said. Jaskier’s heart beat hard in his chest and he looked up at Geralt and watched his eyes. “I should have never let this happen to you.”
“You didn’t let anything happen Geralt.” Jaskier cooed. Geralt pressed his lips together and gripped Jaskeir’s hands a little tighter.
“You could have been with me.” Geralt looked up and met Jaskier’s eyes. “If you had been with me this would have never happened to you.”
“Geralt…”
“No-... no, I should have never told you to leave. I should- I was- you-.”
“Ah!” Jaskier winced in pain. In Geralt’s frustration, he had squeezed Jaskier’s hands too tight and sent a spike of pain from his burn and up his forearm. Jaskier pulled away from Geralt and held his hand to his chest, breathing out the pain in short, hard exhales.
This was it, he had gone too far, said too little, and done too much. Jaskier would reject his apology, leave Kaer Morhen and they would never see each other again. Jaskier would finally see him for the monster he was and he would run away in fear.
A soft hand cupped Geralt’s cheek and tilted his head up. Jaskier was still here, his eyes still soft and not at all scared. Tears welled in Geralt’s eyes, his stomach knotted, and his heart raced. He didn’t deserve such care, such comfort, he should be the one comforting Jaskier, and Jaskier should be demanding he leave the room. Geralt leaned into Jaskier’s touch and caught his lips on his palm.
“I’m so sorry.” He whispered, repeating himself over and over and over again, hoping that the more he said it the more Jaskier knew that he meant it.
Soft lips pressed against the tear that had squeezed its way out of Geralt’s eye. He shuttered and turned his head, brushing his and Jaskier’s nose together as he did. Their lips were so very, very close but so incredibly far. Jaskier wrapped his arms around the back of Geralt’s neck and closed the distance between them.
A kiss, a real kiss, with real passion, real longing, real want behind it. In their time apart Jaskier had taken up old habits and old flames from time to time, looking for anyone and anything to fill that pit in his heart. Nothing could hold a candle to Geralt though. Nothing came close to the way he could pull Jaskier in and take every thought from his mind with a single kiss. The way he made his heart flutter with each breath he took. The way he longed for their lips to meet each time they parted for air.
“I missed you.” Jaskier whispered into Geralt’s mouth.
“I’m so sorry.” Geralt whispered back before drawing Jaskier in for another kiss. Guilt tightened the knot in his stomach, envy set fire to his chest. Jaskier still smelled like Lambert, and he wanted to fix that but also didn’t want to push too far and lose Jaskier for good.
“No more apologies Geralt.” Jaskier pulled away and gazed into Geralt's eyes, golden as ever and wide with anticipation. “I forgive you, just-...” Geralt’s eyes were on Jaskier’s lips, he was listening but was also incredibly distracted. He wrapped his arms tightly around Jaskier’s waist and held him as close as he could to himself.
“What?” Geralt asked. See, he was listening.
“Kiss m-” Jaskier cut himself off, taking Geralt’s mouth in his and tangling his hands in his hair. Geralt's hands slid down Jaskier’s back and he hoisted Jaskier’s legs up and around his hips.
Years worth of longing, want, and lost time were made up for in one night. Their rhythm was off and a bit rusty at first. But once they got back into the sync of things, once Geralt remembered that spot on Jaskier’s neck, and Jaskier breathed all the right praises into Geralt’s ear it was as if everything was right again.
---
The next morning at breakfast they sat in the dining hall with Ciri between them. She was telling Geralt what Vesemir had started teaching her but he kept getting distracted by Jaskier.
Jaskier would look down at his food and take a bite then flick his eyes up and meet Geralt’s gaze, and his cheeks would flush bright pink. It was adorable and horribly distracting, to the point that he didn’t recognize the figure sitting himself next to Jaskier as Lambert till he was already settled in.
“Sleep well last night, Jask?” He asked though he knew the answer already. Jaskier smelled like sex and Geralt, aggressively like Geralt actually.
“Oh-i-uh… soundly.” Jaskier sputtered into his bread roll. “Very, very soundly…” He glanced back to Geralt, face now red instead of pink. Geralt looked over Jaskier and straight at Lambert, eyebrow raised, daring him to make a move. Lambert noticed this and challenged the stare.
“How about you Ciri?” He asked. “Sleep well last night?” Ciri responded affirmatively the best she could with a mouth full of potatoes. “Good. Another quiet night in the Keep.” He said, putting a hand on Jaskier’s back and giving him a shake.
Immediately Geralt was on his feet, pushing the bench the four of them were sitting on back as he stood. Lambert stood too, pushing the bench feather back again. Jaskier and Ciri were stuck in the crossfire of another stare down that everyone could feel was about to boil over into a full on brawl.
“Right.” Jaskier said, dropping the roll, pulling Ciri up by the back of her shirt collar, and removing the both of them from the situation. With them gone Geralt and Lambert were able to close the distance between them. Their eyes were locked onto each other and both of them had murderous, toothy grins on their face.
“Boys!” Vesemir’s voice boomed between them, pulling them out of their staredown. Lambert dropped his head and looked at the table and Geralt bit his cheek and stared at his boots.
“Surely neither of you have forgotten the rules of Kaer Morhen?” Vesemir asked, eyes darting between Geralt and Lambert as he spoke.
“No.” They muttered in unison.
“Then I do hope I merely interrupted you two before you were able to move this brawl outside .”
“What the bloody- no!” Jaskier interrupted, putting himself, once again, in between Lambert and Geralt.
“Geralt.” Jaskier continued, placing a hand on Geralt’s chest and pushing him back, away from the fight. “What the shit? You can't fight your brother.”
Geralt turned his attention to Jaskier, his hand on his chest instantly damping some of the fire that roared in his chest.
“What? Scared he’ll lose, bard?” Lambert mocked.
“You don't get-”
“That’s enough out of you!” Jaskier spun around and cut Geralt off. He was pointing a stern finger in his face that made the color drain from Lambert. He backed away, hands up in surrender. Pride swelled in Geralt’s chest at the ferocity of Jaskier’s voice and he wrapped a hand around his waist.
“I think I made myself clear yesterday that I am not interested in anything more than friendship from you. We can either keep it that way or you could keep talking and make things a whole lot worse for yourself.”
Lambert pressed his lips together, willing the pride out of himself and accepting defeat.
“Right.” He said. “Point taken.” and with that, he took his plate and moved with Vasamir to another table.
The pride Geralt felt was shining through his skin. He turned Jaskier around and pulled him in close. He didn’t care about what Jaskier had meant by “yesterday”; he only cared that he had chosen Geralt once again.
“Honselty, the men in this Keep- I feel like I should write a study on the social practices of Wit-” Geralt cut Jaskier off with a kiss and held their position for a beat before breaking away. Jaskier blinked a few times trying to remember what he was just saying. Once he remembered he patted Geralt’s chest with both hands.
“A study on social practices of Witchers . That’s what I was saying...” Geralt smiled wide and warm at Jaskier, hooking a finger under his chin and tilting his head up towards him. “I could write volumes just from the few days I’ve been here.”
“I’m sure you could.” Geralt chuckled as he pulled Jaskier in for another gentle kiss.