#I proofread this while rewatching the last episode of She-Ra

[belettewrites]

Some mountains and a dog part 9

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He didn’t know whether Jaskier would be awake when he’d be back. It was quite late, now, and the stars that they had gazed at a few nights before were softly shining above him. Despite the fact that the night had fallen, he could see almost perfectly – mutations notwithstanding, the moon was casting a bright light, brighter than he was used to seeing; but after all, he was either in a room at an inn or sleeping outside in a forest, so he hadn’t that many occasions to see the moonlight.

To his surprise, there were still lights in the main room of the house. Someone was up, then – he hoped that it was Jaskier, as much as the thought unnerved him. Talking would be hard, but the thought of having to share a room with his friend without having apologized first was worse. Geralt really didn’t know what he would do if Jaskier was already asleep; ask for another room? Or go sleep with Roach in the stables.

Actually, going to see Roach didn’t sound like a bad idea. He hadn’t seen her all day, hadn’t even made sure that she had eaten before he left, which just showed how troubled he must have been. But he trusted Jaskier to take care of Roach – the other man obviously loved the horse almost as much as Geralt did, always sneaking her sugar cubes and carrots when he thought he could get away with it.

Knowing that it was a way of delaying the inevitable, Geralt decided to first go check on Roach and then see who was still awake at such an ungodly hour. Maybe it was Jaskier. He always tried to stay up as late as he could when Geralt was out on a contract – though the situation was a bit different, considering how he had left.

Roach was seemingly asleep but opened her eyes when she heard him, neighing softly.

“Hello, girl,” he said quietly, lovingly petting her nose. He had missed her, her quiet and steady presence. He looked at her, checking for – anything, really. An injury, or a knot in her mane that would justify him staying here a little longer, delaying his confrontation with Jaskier. But her chestnut fur had been brushed, and her mane had been braided – there even were flowers in there, daisies that somehow hadn’t wilted.

Someone – Jaskier – had taken care of her while he was away, making sure she was fine, no doubts making sure that her legs were still fine.

“I fucked up, Roach,” he admitted quietly as she looked at him. “I- I fucked up.”

The mare obviously didn’t reply but gently nudged his shoulder.

“You’re right,” he sighed, “I should stop being a coward and go, and- face the consequences of my actions.”

He had decided on the way back that telling Jaskier that he loved him needed to be a part of his apology. Not the first one, though, because it would sound as if it justified what he had done, that his love for Jaskier was enough to cancel the fact that he had almost kissed him without his consent, and that was just – no.

He needed to tell him, though. If Jaskier was going to leave him, he should at least be honest with him until the end. And maybe- maybe at some point during their unnaturally long lives, Jaskier would be able to forgive him, and would join him for just one last adventure together.

But Geralt was getting ahead of himself, thinking of the future when he hadn’t even apologized yet.

Roach sighed, and he smiled at her.

“I’ll let you sleep, girl. And I’ll- I’ll go apologize to Jaskier.”

She flicked her ear, having recognized the name. He pet her one last time before leaving, wishing he could stay here with her, where everything seemed simpler.

***

It was unfair how peaceful the night was. The wind was so light that it was almost as though it wasn’t there, and the clouds in the sky were so thin and so scattered that they didn’t hide the star-speckled sky. The violet flowers under the windows seemed to be glowing; the place looked like a dream, not like the battlefield on which Geralt was about to watch his dearest friendship die.

Charcoal was sleeping outside, and he raised his head when he heard Geralt approaching, his tail wagging lazily. Geralt chuckled, and removed one of his gloves, squatting down to pet him. Thankfully the big dog didn’t lick his hand, and simply nudged it with his snout when Geralt stopped petting him. He whined, and Geralt smiled.

“Keep quiet,” he said, “you’re going to wake them up and I’ll have to justify myself.”

Geralt stood up, considered putting his glove back on but ultimately decided that it wasn’t worth it, and removed the other one. He took a deep breath, and opened the front door of the house, trying not to jostle the bells to avoid making noise, bracing himself for what – or who – he would find inside.

He didn’t dare to look at who was sitting at the table, but he didn’t need to; he would have recognized that heartbeat in the middle of a crowd. There, sitting on one of the benches by candlelight, a glass of wine to his right and papers scattered around the table, was-

“Jaskier,” Geralt breathed out, and forgot all he had wanted to say.

His bard- his friend- Jaskier turned around at the sound of his voice, knocking off the glass of wine in the process. The wine spilled on the table and Jaskier jumped to save the papers he had been working on while Geralt dropped his gloves on the ground and hurried to find something to mop it up.

“You’re back!” Jaskier cried out, clenching the papers against his chest, looking at Geralt up and down. “And you’re… uninjured, aren’t you? Geralt, are you hurt?”

Knowing that Jaskier was about to fret over him like he did every time the witcher got back from a hunt, Geralt stopped to look at him with what he was hoping was a reassuring face.

“I’m fine, Jaskier. I’ll tell you about it, if- if you want to hear it. But I have-” he put down the towel he had been using, and straightened up. “I have to- can we talk, first?”

He didn’t like to talk, least of all about his feelings, but he had to do this. He owed it to Jaskier.

Jaskier’s heartbeat sped up and Geralt hated himself for being the cause of such distress, for putting Jaskier in such a situation.

“Of course, darling,” Jaskier replied, and Geralt tried not to show how much it affected him to hear that Jaskier was still using his favorite term of endearment for him. Maybe everything wasn’t lost?

“We could- talk outside?”

“Of course.”

Jaskier picked up Geralt’s gloves that had fallen on the ground and put them on the table along with the papers he had saved from the wine.

Geralt didn’t know why he had asked for them to talk outside. It wouldn’t change anything, but – at least outside he wouldn’t feel as though he was trapped. It was a ridiculous thought, because they couldn’t be any more safe inside the house, but the room that had seemed so welcoming earlier now made him unable to breathe. Or maybe it was the nervousness caused by what he had to say.

He didn’t get anxious, as a rule. He felt uneasy in crowds and at banquets, but this was a whole new other type of nervousness that he hadn’t really felt before, not even on the mountain. Apologizing on the mountain had been easy, because it was either begging for Jaskier’s pardon or losing him. Which… wasn’t so different from the current situation, actually.

Charcoal didn’t even raise his head when they came out of the house; he just opened his eyes, wagged his tail twice, and went back to sleep.

Geralt glanced at Jaskier. They were standing in front of each other, and with the soft light of the moon falling on him, Jaskier looked ethereal, something from a fairy tale. He was silent, not moving, watching Geralt, the wind gently playing with his hair.

The night was warm, and Geralt hated that his thoughtless action had ruined such a beautiful evening.

“I apologize,” he said quietly, not quite looking at Jaskier, his gaze fixated on the flowers right over the other man’s shoulder. “For what I’ve done earlier, before leaving. For-”

Say it.

“For kissing you without your consent, for leaving without saying anything because I hadn’t realized, I wasn’t thinking – but I know that it doesn’t excuse what I’ve done, Jaskier, I know-”

“Geralt,” Jaskier interrupted him, one hand reaching out to him but not quite touching him. “Take your time, I’m not going anywhere.”

Geralt blinked, freezing. Jaskier was looking at him with his serious face – he wasn’t joking. He wouldn’t – Jaskier wouldn’t leave, despite Geralt fucking things up once again?

“You aren’t?” he blurted out, not really thinking, still focused on the fact that Jaskier wasn’t going to leave.

“Well, no? Darling, I’ve stayed after seeing you covered in monsters gut, I’ve stayed after the mountain, I’ve stayed after Cintra fell, I took care of the newest addition to your family – why would I leave now?”

“Because I-”

“Geralt. I know you didn’t mean to. And it’s alright, I forgive you. I know you did it because of some – reflex or I don’t know. I know it was not me you were seeing.”

Jaskier ought to be more pissed at him. It wasn’t healthy, to react in such a way, to be so forgiving. Jaskier needed to want better things for himself.

“But I- Jaskier- Wait.”

What had Jaskier just said?

“Wait, Jaskier, I- it was you.”

That wasn’t how he had planned to tell him, but that would do. Though, to be fair, he hadn’t really thought about how he would tell Jaskier that he loved him. He had just known that he would do it.

“What?”

Jaskier looked lost, and sad. Geralt ached to take him in his arms, but knew he couldn’t. It seemed like he had to explain himself, so he took the time to choose his words, thinking that, somehow, telling Jaskier was both extremely difficult and as easy as breathing.

“I- seeing you, earlier, when you were so obviously happy and- and the picture of innocence, it just- reminded me how much I love you. And- when you read to me, or when we watched the stars – I- I said that it reminded me, but in reality it’s more like- like the feeling never leaves me.”

Geralt was no longer looking at Jaskier’s face; he was looking at the bard’s hands, with which the bard was nervously playing, obviously distressed by the confession. But Geralt had to say it – Jaskier had said that he wouldn’t leave, but that was before he actually knew, but Geralt didn’t care. He had to tell him the entire truth to let him decide.

“And I know,” Geralt went on, “I know you’ll never feel that way about me – but it’s okay. Being your friend is more than enough, and I-”

“How long? How long have you known?” Jaskier interrupted him, tears in his voice. Geralt felt a pang of guilt, hearing it. He had done it again, had caused the most beautiful voice in the world to sound heartbroken. But Jaskier had asked him something, and the least he could do was answer. Or try to.

“I- I don’t remember. Though I think-”

Geralt fought to find his words, because even though he had become better at this, this was a moment he needed to not fuck up. Well. Not to fuck up more.

“-I think- I’m sure that after the mountain I knew. I had said those things, and you turned around and I felt cold for the first time, I had been warm without even realizing it, because you were in my life, and then it just- I had to stop you. And I think- that night- when you still slept next to me, as trusting as ever, how you had told me goodnight- I knew.”

He tore his eyes away from Jaskier’s hands, from the rings that were glinting in the moonlight. He watched as the flowers that had bloomed for the night danced under the wind. An owl hooted melodiously somewhere deep in the forest. Apart from that noise, everything was silent around them, his confession the only thing disturbing the quietness of the night.

“It took me more than twenty years and almost losing you to realize I loved you. More than I thought myself capable of loving.”

Jaskier gasped, and Geralt found himself looking at the bard’s hands again, wishing that he could hold them, maybe softly kiss one of them, to show the bard how much he meant it. He hoped Jaskier would still let him be gentle with him, even knowing that Geralt loved him.

“Geralt-”

“Wait, please,” Geralt begged. He had been keeping this for too long, he needed to tell him. “And then-” he went on, “with Ciri- you stayed. You loved her like you would your own daughter, and she is, Jaskier, you have to know- she’s as much your daughter as she’s mine. You are- I- the path is better with you.”

He paused, then added.

“Cleaning the stables at Kaer Morhen was better with you, repairing the keep was better with you- Jaskier,” he glanced up, looking at those blue eyes that were shining with tears, “Julek, everything's better when you’re here. And I know- I know I fucked up, and that- that I overstepped my boundaries, fuck but I did, and-”

He was interrupted by a hand taking his.

“Geralt,” Jaskier said, squeezing his hand. “I love you too.”

“What?”

He couldn’t have heard right. He couldn’t have.

“Oh, Geralt – I’ve loved you for years, too. Well before the mountain, darling. And I wouldn’t have said anything, I would have been glad to stay by your side as just your friend – because that’s what you are to me first. My friend. And- and I love you, how could I not?”

Geralt was at loss for words, which usually didn’t bother him; but right now he had to say something, anything, because Jaskier had just said that he loved him back and-

“So can I- can I kiss you?”

“For real, this time?” Jaskier giggled, Geralt’s hand still in his.

“Hmm,” Geralt replied, just because it would amuse Jaskier – and maybe because he didn’t know what to say.

Jaskier’s lips quirked up, and Geralt came closer just to taste that smile.

It didn’t feel like fireworks, as romance books that Geralt definitely didn’t read always said. It felt more like coming home, like something as natural as breathing – like something they had been doing for years, and didn’t just start doing that evening.

Geralt’s hands fell on Jaskier’s hips, and he used it to bring the other man closer to him, breaking the kiss to simply enjoy holding him like he had been dreaming of. Jaskier’s arms hugged him back, and the bard kissed him lightly once again.

“I hope you know,” Jaskier whispered next to Geralt’s ear, “that I’m never going to stop doing that now that I know I can.”

Geralt chuckled, still holding him. He would get to kiss Jaskier’s hands, it seemed.

“Please never stop,” Geralt replied. Then: “How about we don’t say anything to our family until next winter?”

Jaskier pecked him on the cheek, half laughing.

“You are a terrible man, Geralt of Rivia,” he said, and Geralt hummed. “I say, we wait until everyone is gathered for dinner and then we snog each other.”

“Hmm,” Geralt considered the idea. It didn’t sound bad, actually, but- “Think of Ciri.”

“Oh, right, right. Then-” Jaskier thought out loud, “then we should-”

“Just kiss?” Geralt suggested. “When we arrive at the keep, we’ll need to make sure to be late enough to be the last ones. Everyone will be here to welcome us, so I would- help you get down from Roach, and then I’d kiss your hand, and you’d kiss me.”

“I had no idea you were such a romantic, darling,” Jaskier said fondly, “let’s do this,” he chuckled, “I can’t wait to see Lambert’s face, it’ll be hilarious.”

He then yawned, which reminded Geralt of their current situation. The stars were still shining above them, the moon still glowing – the night had fallen hours ago, and they were both still awake.

“Julek, you should go to sleep,” he said gently.

“So should you,” Jaskier smiled, “and you still haven’t told me about the hunt.”

“How about,” Geralt started, considering taking Jaskier in his arms bride style, but giving up the idea at the thought of the plants on the staircase and how treacherous they made it, “we go to sleep, and I tell you next morning, along with Violet and Lila?”

Jaskier seemed to think about it for a moment, then he pecked him on the cheek again. Geralt could get used to that kind of affection, really.

“That’s a deal,” Jaskier smiled.

Charcoal didn’t react when they made their way back into the house, careful not to make any noise to avoid waking Violet and Lila up. Geralt almost crushed the succulent on the stairs, which prompted Jaskier to gasp about his “poor plant”.

Their room was as Geralt had left it, the bed still made, Jaskier’s lute still in the same place. Jaskier, who had taken the papers he had left on the table in the main room, put them in his journal, making sure not to wrinkle them. Geralt took off his armor, grateful that he didn’t have to clean off blood, and put himself into bed. Jaskier joined him not too much later, immediately snuggling against him. Geralt pressed a kiss against his head.

“Goodnight, Julek,” he whispered, still amazed by the fact that it was something that he could do.

“Goodnight, darling,” Jaskier yawned back, sleepily blinking up at him before closing his eyes.

His breathing evened out, but it took a long while for Geralt to find sleep, even as tired as he was. He simply held Jaskier in his arms, eyes closed, enjoying the tranquility of it all, allowing himself to feel happy. Tomorrow he would tell them what had happened on his hunt, what he had discovered, and then he and Jaskier would leave. Maybe Jaskier would want to stay here, in the mountains, a little bit longer; or maybe he would want to go to Oxenfurt because there was a bardic competition there. Geralt didn’t really care where they went, as long as they were together.

He was smiling when he finally fell asleep.

#Geraskier #The Witcher #Geralt of Rivia #Jaskier #geralt x jaskier #mine #I proofread this while rewatching the last episode of She-Ra #if there are any mistakes ti's because of the tears in my eyes #nothing to see here #anyway #one part left! #now I'll go back to my sobbing