Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Roach is a good dog. Geralt knew that when he spotted her in the shelter, crammed into the corner and refusing to look at anyone. He knew she was a good dog when her tail wagged at the first sight of Ciri and immediately licked her face when the then-three year old hugged her without any fear.

Roach is a great dog. She doesn't hop onto counters and steal food, she curls up on her beds in the cafe and doesn't move when it's busy, she doesn't bite or snarl or snap at people. She's nervous in bigger crowds but so is Geralt so he can't blame her for that.

She loves Ciri. Loved Ciri the moment Geralt introduced them and promptly began sleeping in Ciri's bed and giving Geralt his mattress back. How Roach and Ciri both fit on Ciri's currently twin sized mattress he doesn't know, but they manage it and both love it so Geralt leaves them to it.

All in all, Roach is a Very Good Girl.

But all it takes is one second. Geralt is distracted by a very muddy and stuck ankle deep in a puddle Ciri for one second- maybe five- and when he turns around, his muddy daughter dangling from his arm and laughing, the leash and dog are both gone.

"Fuck."

Ciri's good mood immediately vanishes. "Where's Roach?" she asks, lower lip wobbling slightly and Geralt's stomach clenches at the sight.

"She can't have gotten far," he assures her, scooping Ciri up to prop her on his hip, uncaring of the mud caking her boots.

Ciri had fought him long and hard to wear these boots today, the neon green galoshes with rainbows splashed all over them that she absolutely had to have. She's also wearing her bright pink tutu- as opposed to her blue one- and her dinosaur hoodie (the red one with the spikes), her hair wound upright in a bun on top of her head (Geralt's getting better at doing hair but he still can't manage anything more complicated than a braid quite yet).

She looks absolutely ridiculously adorable.

And she looks like she's about to cry.

"We'll find her," he promises, setting off at a fast clip and calling for Roach- formerly a Very Good Girl who will now not be getting any treats once they get back to the cafe.

They do find her some twenty minutes later, sprawled happily on the feet of a man, tongue lolling out, looking entirely at ease. She also appears to be eating what was someone's lunch.

She's also letting a stranger pet her.

"Aren't you a pretty thing?" the man coos, setting a guitar down at his side. "Pretty enough that I don't mind you taking my sandwich, you sneaky little thing. Who do you belong to, hm? You're too well taken care of to be a stray."

Geralt watches, sincerely stunned, as Roach swallows the last of the food and rolls over, allowing the busker to rub her belly.

"Roach!" An expert at extracting herself from Geralt's grip after years of much practice, Ciri wiggles her way to the ground and flings herself at Roach, mud flying up in her wake.

Roach wiggles in absolute joy, rolling to lick Ciri's face and accept more pets and seeming very pleased with herself.

"Does she belong to you?"

"This is Roach!" Ciri chirps, grinning up at the stranger who is allowed to pet Geralt's dog. "She doesn't like people."

Roach sneezes, tail whipping back and forth at a blinding speed, practically vibrating with joy.

Geralt grabs the leash before she can take off again, no longer trusting her to stay put. She's never run off like that before, not even when the crowd in the cafe gets too much for her. She's more likely to try and bury herself into Geralt's leg and not look at anyone that's not him or Ciri (or Yen that one time, hiding under Yennefer's dress until Ciri came downstairs to fetch her).

Trotting up to a stranger for pets is new and not entirely unwelcome but Geralt could do without her deciding to steal people's food. She might eat something she shouldn't.

"People can be scary," the man says with an easy laugh. He bends slightly to stroke his hands over Roach's back. "It was a pleasure to meet you, lunch thief Roach. Though I can't really blame you- that sandwich looked really tasty when I bought it."

"Ah," Geralt manages, realizing a beat too late he's supposed to say something. His five year old daughter and people-shy dog are sitting at a stranger's feet, both of them beaming up at this man and Geralt has no idea who he is.

Blue eyes come up to meet his, crinkling with a smile. He doesn't appear to be put off by the old scars on Roach's face or Geralt's large stature. His shirt is obnoxiously pink, his shoes a scuffed up but blinding blue and he has thick calluses on his fingers.

"Geralt," he manages, winding the leash more firmly around his wrist. Christ, what had Roach managed to eat? Will he need to take her to the vet?

"Jaskier, formerly of the tasty turkey and bacon club sandwich." Geralt takes the offered hand, still half glaring at Roach. She's unconcerned, leaning contentedly against Ciri, tail thwapping against the pavement.

"Right. She doesn't usually... do that."

Jaskier shrugs, seeming to be as concerned with the whole thing as Roach is with Geralt's glare. He's grinning as if it's all a big joke when he stands. "No worries. I was performing when she came up. It was pretty adorable, actually- like she wanted to listen to the music too. Turns out she was just hungry, but she's sweet. And such a pretty girl. Yes you are!"

Roach's tail wags harder.

"Don't encourage her," Geralt huffs. "I'll replace your lunch."

"I'm Ciri," Ciri announces, bouncing on her toes. "I'm a dinosaur ballerina."

"I've always wanted to meet one," Jaskier says, scooping up his guitar. It's an old instrument, worn and scratched and beaten but clearly well loved. "What's it like, being a dinosaur ballerina? Doesn't your tail get in the way?"

"Yeah but then I just use my wings."

"Makes perfect sense. You're clearly an expert in the field. It's an honor to meet you and your vicious protector." Roach licks her chops, drooling the slightest bit. Jaskier is still smiling, utterly charmed, when he turns back to Geralt. "I'll take you up on the replacement lunch. There's a cafe around the corner that's really good- I go there all the time and it's actually where I got that other sandwich. Have you had their muffins? They're the best."

Knowing the drill, Ciri and Roach arrange themselves on Geralt's other side, Ciri's much smaller hand slipping into his as they start towards the edge of the park.

"The Witchery."

Jaskier's eyes flutter dramatically. "Yes, it's wonderful. All kinds of sugary goods and muffins, cookies, bagels, cakes, doughnuts, bread galore... though they're sorely lacking in scones. I love a good scone. Good smoothies though."

Ciri, skipping with enough force to rain dirt down onto the sidewalk as the mud on her shoes dries, cheerfully announces: "Dad doesn't like making scones."

Roach pauses to examine a stick before scooping it up in her mouth and trotting along with it proudly. She keeps poking Geralt in the knee with it and he sighs, already knowing he'll find it under the couch later, gnawed to death and then forgotten.

"The Witchery is my place," he tells Jaskier, oddly pleased. Sales have been okay lately- steady but not climbing- and it's soothing to hear someone singing the cafe's praises. The Witchery has been standing for six years now, expanding and growing from a small bread shop to a full bakery and café, complete with open mic night (Geralt hates open mic night but Yennefer was right, it draws a nice crowd and they all order food- it's their biggest sales nights of the week) and a small stage for live music.

Yennefer likes to say she's the brains of the operation- and she is. She handles the music and business parts, Geralt reigns over the kitchen. He bakes, handles his employees, she figures out how to sell everything and the café stays out of the red.

Honestly they handle a business together much better than they ever handled their marriage.

"Really? Oh that's amazing! I really do love the food there- and the coffee is so good."

"Hmm."

Ciri grins up at Jaskier. "I'm not allowed to have coffee."

"No you are not," Geralt confirms with a smirk. Lambert only made that mistake once. It took a month to scrub the paint stains off Geralt's floors and (Lambert claims) two hours for Ciri to stop vibrating long enough to pass out.

It was also the last time Geralt let his brother babysit without supervision.

"There's a story there," Jaskier says with a laugh. "And a story behind the scones! Why don't you have them in your café? They'd be amazing- a good scone can really turn your day around, you know."

"They're a pain to make."

"I've heard that, but you're a baker! Shouldn't you, I don't know, relish the challenge? Oh, now I'm craving a scone something fierce. Blueberry, or maybe even a good old cranberry white chocolate."

Geralt shrugs, lifting Ciri up to divest her of her boots before letting her into the café. He's not in the mood for Renfri's I-will-murder-you look for allowing dirt and mud on her freshly cleaned floors. Roach immediately makes a B-line for her cushion behind the register, curling up with her stick and settling down with a content sigh.

"I don't like making them so I don't."

"Perks of being the boss," Jaskier says, taking care to wipe his feet on the welcome mat. "Mmm, it smells really good in here. I'm kind of glad Roach snatched my food now."

Geralt grunts and heads in to wash his hands. "It always smells good in here." He nods at an open stool on the counter. "Sit. I'll replace your meal."

Across the way, Renfri straightens from her slouch. "What meal are we replacing?" she asks, loud enough to cause Yennefer to look up from greeting Ciri. "What was wrong with the meal?"

"Nothing," Jaskier assures. "It looked really good, honestly. Good enough to eat."

"Roach ate his lunch. I'm replacing it."

Renfri and Yennefer both frown, glancing at Roach, currently lounging on her back, feet up in the air, the stick she'd selected resting beside her. She wags her tail but doesn't otherwise move.

"Roach." Yennefer's brows wing up, her gaze cutting to Jaskier. "The same dog that still takes ten minutes to warm up to Eskel and still won't accept treats from me walked up to a stranger and stole his food?"

"She liked Jaskier's music," Ciri says, kicking her feet from where the dangle off Yennefer's lap. She's got a bright yellow sock on her left foot and dancing cats on her right. "And his sandwich." She hands Yennefer a hair tie. "Will you fix my hair? The bun keeps falling down."

"Must have been a hell of a song to get that dog to come up to you," Renfri says. "I was here the day Geralt brought her home and I think I've been allowed to pet her once."

"She's my dog," Ciri exclaims, frowning at Renfri. Behind her Yennefer grins, hair tie clamped between her teeth as she does something complicated and entirely out of Geralt's league with Ciri's hair.

"She is," he promises her.

Geralt knows it's true. He might have adopted Roach two months before he adopted Ciri but Roach has belonged to Ciri since the minute they laid eyes on each other. The only times Roach climbs into bed with Geralt anymore is if he's sick (which has happened exactly twice), or if Ciri is staying the night elsewhere (which has happened exactly four times and he's still not entirely sure who was more miserable: him or the dog).

Geralt leaves them at the counter and heads to the back to remake Jaskier's food. Yennefer doesn't look like she's about to kill him, though the day is still early yet, and Renfri has drinks to make so she's too distracted to insult him too much.

Triss looks up from a massive tray of cookies. She has a dusting of flour across her nose and what looks to be sugar in her hair. "Hand me the red icing, please. I have to finish decorating all of these in the next hour so unless you're here to help stay out of my way, thank you."

Geralt stays out of her way, crossing over into what they call the savory side of the kitchen. Triss rules over the cookies and the decorating of the cakes but the breads and muffins and bagels is where Geralt is most at home. His bread bowls filled with fresh soup are his biggest sellers- they usually sell out about two hours after he puts them out.

Baking's always put Geralt at ease. It's simple, it's methodical and it can go wrong for the weirdest reasons. And if he does it right, in the end he gets tasty food out of it.

Vesemir can't cook for shit so really it was luck of the draw that he eventually had a foster kid that could and took over for him, saving the rest of them from eating burnt frozen pizza every day for the rest of their lives. Neither Lambert nor Eskel have any idea what to do around a stove and Coen once melted a pot by putting some water on and then forgetting about it.

None of them are allowed in The Witchery's kitchen without direct supervision and Geralt's express permission.

A turkey bacon club isn't hard to slap together. Geralt even goes so far as to use some slices of the fresh and still cooling sourdough bread he pulled out of the oven as they left.

When he emerges, Jaskier is sipping on a smoothie.

"Oh it's so good. You're right, the pomegranates really add to it."

"I'm always right," Renfri says with an air of satisfaction.

"I'll be sure to remember that."

"Do you play the piano?" Ciri wants to know. Her hair is now impossibly flat and neatly bunched up into a bun on the dead center of her head, mysteriously held in place with the hair tie and what appears to be two hair clips.

He's not even going to ask how Yennefer managed to do that in under five minutes.

Jaskier accepts the sandwich with a toothy grin and a sincere thank you. "I actually teach piano. I play a few things: piano, violin, guitar, lute-"

"Lute," Geralt can't help but ask.

"-yes the lute, plus bass," he smoothly finishes. "Everyone gets stuck on the lute. It's a great instrument!"

Geralt's never actually never heard a lute being played before. He's kind of curious now, not that he'll admit that. How does someone even get started playing the lute? Did he just pick out the most random instrument and decide this one?

"My last piano teacher was mean," Ciri says, idly drawing on a placemat. "He never let me play anything fun and once whacked my hand with a ruler so I bit him."

Geralt and Yennefer exchange grins over Ciri's head where she can't see. Technically they don't fully approve of Ciri biting someone hard enough to draw blood but the man had hit his daughter with a ruler so Geralt does not care that he needed stitches when Ciri let go.

"He was fired," Geralt says with a broad smile. "I let Yen do it."

Yennefer smiles at the mere memory. "I made him cry. It was glorious."

"Last I heard he left town, still wetting himself."

Jaskier looks thoroughly entertained. "Honestly if you so much as looked at me cross-eyed I think I'd cry too. You're very terrifying."

"I'm not scary?" Geralt feels vaguely insulted. He has no idea why.

"No," Jaskier and Ciri answer at the same time.

"Aunt Yen is scary," Ciri adds, the duh Dad unspoken but clearly heard all the same. Jaskier chuckles into his next bite, not at all concerned with Geralt's glare.

"Thank you," Yennefer says to them both, tossing her head. "I live to rule through fear and tickles." And she digs her fingers into Ciri's side, making the girl shriek with laughter and scramble down.

"Dad save me!"

Geralt scoops her up on the fly and tosses her over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. She hangs there, hair somehow not falling out of place, and giggles wildly, kicking her mismatched socks into the air.

"Maybe you can teach Ciri's lessons," Geralt comments casually. Jaskier perks up, wiggling his brows at Ciri.

"Not piano! I don't like it anymore."

Jaskier nods gravely. "Bad teachers can really ruin things. But there are lots of different instruments out there- you just have to find the one that you like the best and stick to it. Maybe you'll even find lots of them. You could learn guitar or the flute, maybe even the saxophone."

Geralt gives Jaskier a bland look. "Those all sound loud."

"Oh you want loud, go for bagpipes."

Ciri wiggles in excitement. "Can I play the bagpipes? What are bagpipes?"

Jaskier laughs and shoots Geralt a grin that portrays exactly how sorry he isn't about the five year old now loudly demanding she learn to play the bagpipes. Which just. No. The apartment is nowhere big enough to contain that kind of noise.

"I used to play guitar," Geralt says. "Terribly, but I played. I bet you could learn to be better than me."

"I bet you weren't," Jaskier protests. "Anyone can improve."

Yennefer lets out a bark of laughter. "Oh no, he was horrible. I remember those days. He'd 'play' and it would sound like a dying moose."

Geralt sighs. "Thanks."

"I bet I could take you from dying moose to actual noise." Jaskier pats the guitar case at his feet, a challenging look in his eyes. "Time and dedication is all it really takes to get better at something."

Flipping Ciri around so she can sit up and cling onto his back, Geralt raises a brow. "So talent has no part?"

"Talent and practice go hand-in-hand. You don't pick up a violin one day and just magically know how to play it. You pluck the strings and make odd screeching noises before you figure out how to properly move your bow. Then you play a note, just one, a single note. Before you know it you've played that note fifty times and now you can play it just right." He mimes moving his fingers over some strings, one hand drawing an invisible bow. "So you practice. And you improve. Then you're playing even more notes. And your talent grows. So you practice more and you connect with the music, you love it, so your talent grows even more."

"What if you don't love it?" Geralt wants to know.

"Then you pick up another instrument and give that one a try. Eventually, you'll either find something or you'll find something else." Jaskier shrugs. "Music isn't for everyone but anyone can do it. You bake bread and make frankly amazing sandwiches for a living. At some point you were just doing that because you loved it and then it evolved into..." he gestures around at the half full tables, the whir of the blender going. They can smell Triss's cookies baking. "...all this. Maybe you weren't terrible at guitar, you just found something else that you connected with more so you turned to that, honing that skill in particular. And you know guitar isn't for you because you tried it first."

"Hm."

He's never thought about it that way before. Baking started off as a way to feed himself, Eskel, Lambert and Vesemir before anything else, figuring he couldn't be any worse at it than any of the others. Then it was calming. Then it was something he could control. But he does love it, always has. Geralt hums again more thoughtfully, wondering if Jaskier actually could get Ciri to love the piano again, show her how to grow the talent Geralt knows she has. She picked up the piano way too fast to not be at least moderately talented at it.

At the very least, Ciri probably wouldn't bite him.

By the time Jaskier has finished his replacement food, Yennefer is honing in on him like a shark.

"I want to hear you play," she announces. "I looked you up- you're a proper music teacher. Marx's Classical Academy- god what a pretentious name."

"If giving lessons at a music school makes me a proper teacher then yes, I am," Jaskier says, licking honey mustard off his thumb. It's good sauce, Geralt makes it himself and he's very proud of it. "No one really wants a lute instructor but I'm certified to teach piano, guitar and violin. Been playing piano since I was a kid."

Yennefer raises one sculpted brow. "And you're not a kid now?"

Jaskier laughs and it makes him look even younger somehow. His laughter is light and not the least bit forced. Does he ever stop smiling? "Hardly. I'm thirty."

Yennefer purses her lips. "You don't look it. Go play something, I want to hear."

Jaskier eyes the small stage set up in the corner, complete with a small keyboard, a stool, a microphone and a lone guitar. "Any requests?"

"Surprise me."

Geralt sets Ciri down and shoos her upstairs. "Put on a clean pair of shoes and then come right back down."

Roach scrambles up from a dead sleep and follows Ciri up the stairs, nails clacking on the wood the entire way. Ciri leaves the door to their apartment open and disappears inside, Roach trailing behind her.

"Are you interviewing him, Yen?"

Yennefer lets out a sigh that conveys a wealth of annoyance. "Well the last guy we had fucking disappeared on us and we haven't had any consistent live music since then. Since what's-his-nuts didn't show last week and didn't call I'm betting he won't tomorrow night either and we need something scheduled to keep customers coming in. I haven't had time to set up auditions yet and he's right here. I've looked him up: he's got excellent reviews and the videos of him in the park are popular. No harm in hearing him play."

Last week's numbers had sucked. They only made half of what they usually do on music night, customers only staying long enough to order one drink and then bail when no entertainment arrived. It had been enough to make Yennefer frustrated which is never a good time for anyone.

No harm in letting the man play, see what he's got. Buskers make decent money around here and the park is a popular spot- Jaskier obviously has talent if he claims the courtyard by the fountain regularly enough to draw a crowd. And charm socially anxious pit bulls.

Even knowing that Geralt is not prepared for the sound that comes out of Jaskier when he steps up to the mic.

He sings a song they've all heard a million times, a million different ways: a cover of Hozier's Someone New played on just his beat up old guitar, blue eyes sparkling even from across the room and sings it like he's performing it for the man himself. Jaskier pours himself into the song like he's meant to sing it, the pitches and tone exactly perfect and drawing them all in. The customers lingering in their seats sway to the song or mouth along with it. Some even pull out their phones and record the performance.

Everyone is transfixed, captivated and Geralt feels like he's rooted to the floor.

He's heard this song hundreds of times over the years: on the radio, performed in the café to varying degrees of success, and even once live thanks to a catering gig. But he swears he's never heard it like this before. He can't even say what's so different about it other than it's good in a way that he knows comes from sheer raw talent.

Roach comes flying down the stairs, Ciri right behind her, and goes up to the stage, front paws resting on the platform, tail wagging up a storm. Jaskier grins and serenades her as easily as he does the young couple near the front.

Yennefer doesn't move an inch until he's done, her gaze sharp and assessing.

"I'm hiring him," she announces over the scattered applause and calls for more. "We'll see how he does tomorrow night and go from there."

"Fine by me," Geralt says with a careless shrug. "Maybe he'll actually show up on time and sober."

Yennefer scowls at the memory. "I'm never taking a friend-of-a-friend recommendation again," she vows. "I ripped Fringilla a new one when her cousin's buddy arrived wasted and expected to be paid up front for that screaming crap he called music." She waves away the annoyance impatiently. "Now if Roach could go steal the food of a good accountant we might get our taxes done on time too."

Roach seems to be quite happy sitting directly in front of the stage, gazing adoringly up at Jaskier, Ciri sitting cross legged beside her.

"She doesn't even like turkey," Geralt mutters, leaning a hip against the counter to watch Jaskier charm his way through the crowd like he was born to do so. "Or strangers."

"Neither do you and you're the one that walked in here with him."

Fair enough he supposes.

There's something about Jaskier that just draws people in. Ciri and Roach both love him- he's brightly colored and bouncy as a spring so of course Ciri has decided that he is her new best friend. And Roach liking him, letting him pet her- for fuck's sake Vesemir can't pet her for more than five minutes before she tucks herself back against Geralt- instantly clears nearly any worry about his personality from Geralt's mind.

Jaskier pauses to pet Roach now, scritching her under her chin and around her collar like she likes before literally bouncing over to Yennefer with a mile wide grin.

"Wow that was fun. Haven't been on a stage in ages. Mostly I teach these days or perform in the park for tips. Thank you for that, it was great."

Geralt can literally see the business mask sliding into place over Yen's features. "And well received," Yennefer says carefully, tapping her phone idly. "How would you feel about performing here again tomorrow night? We usually have a live music night- and open mic night for original singer songwriters- and our last act... quit. Interested? You get to keep any tips plus an hourly wage. If tomorrow night goes well we'll discuss further payment options and a more regular performance."

It turns out that Jaskier's grin can get bigger, his eyes do indeed get brighter. His entire being lights up in what can only be called pure joy and Geralt is unable to do anything other than offer him a small smile in return.

"I'd love to."

Chapter Text

Jaskier doesn't often do private lessons. He's got his own space at Marx's Classical Academy (it really is a pretentious name which suits Valdo down to the ground) across town and it makes much more sense to teach there than it does traveling to his students' homes or having them come to his loft. There's more space in the school, more instruments for the students to pick from and it's a clean, professional environment.

But since he was hired to play two nights a week at The Witchery (on a probationary period to start) as well as teaching Ciri piano, he and Geralt work it out where Jaskier will arrive at The Witchery in the afternoons, do her lessons and then come downstairs to perform in the café.

He already has a great lesson planned out for Ciri, who is not all that enthused about the entire thing. She's happy enough to have Jaskier come over but she's not thrilled when she's informed it's because he's taking over for her last teacher- and on that note who the hell still whacks kid's hands with a ruler? That last teacher deserved that bite and Jaskier will stand firm on that.

But before he heads out there is one thing he needs to do.

"Okay," he says to his mirror, pointing at his reflection. "Remember your rules Jaskier Pankratz. They're there for a reason and you do not break them." He jabs the mirror with his finger because he means business. "One: don't fuck your students."

This rule is pretty easy. Most teachers have this rule. Jaskier might just be a music instructor at an independent school but it's a firm one that he set for himself. His students come in a variety of ages, shapes, sizes and skill levels and so far it's not been too hard to follow this rule. He set it for himself before he even accepted the offered job, firmly telling himself he will not be the teacher that is known for sleeping with people. He will teach the music, inspire the pupil and go home at the end of the day. If he wants someone to join him in his bed he has options that are not his place of employment.

And then he worked his first day and immediately made the second rule.

"Two: don't fuck your students' parents."

A lot of Jaskier's students are children learning for the first time or who were put into music by their parents. So Jaskier deals with a lot of kids and therefore with a lot of parents.

A lot of attractive parents. Rule two was firmly added to rule one by the end of Jaskier's first lesson. Many divorced parents come in to harmlessly flirt- and he does flirt back (what? the rule is don't fuck them. he never said anything about flirting)- but it's hard to tell who's actually divorced and who's just lonely and unhappy and that's a whole mess he refuses to get involved in.

Again.

This rule is also pretty easy to follow. He befriends a lot of kids, gets to know them as they play and learn. He likes most of the kids (most, there are a few that are... a hassle and their parents are even worse) and he doesn't want to confuse any of them or complicate matters by getting involved with their parents. So he doesn't.

That doesn't stop the flirting of course. Jaskier's not sure he knows how to not flirt when someone flirts with him. He's been told before that he can flirt just by sitting there- it's a talent- and well. It happens. But he leaves the flirtation at the door and never takes anyone up on the (many) offers he's gotten for "private lessons".

The third rule is just a general rule he's had since he was a teenager.

"And three: never fuck your boss."

Which is a pretty self-explanatory rule. Jaskier doesn't have time to get into why sleeping with your boss is such a bad idea on every level no matter what your job title is.

He's followed these rules for years now and it's always worked for him. No parent has ever been insulted by his gentle but firm no on the "private lessons, just us two", most of the lonely parents appreciate the causal flirtation of the music teacher but understand it's never more than that and so far he hasn't been fired.

The problem is that Geralt is a six-foot-two walking tank of a man with an adorable child and a cute dog and Jaskier cannot stop fucking staring.

Oh he's attracted to Geralt, no question about it. Geralt has the most vibrant golden eyes Jaskier has ever seen, hair so light it's practically white and usually pulled back in a ponytail or a bun and is often covered in flour, his daughter hanging off his arm or clambering up his back. He grunts and rolls his eyes and speaks in sarcasm and Jaskier is hopelessly besotted.

So before he goes over for Ciri's first lesson he reminds himself of his rules and the reasons for them. Geralt is one of his student's parents. He likes Ciri and doesn't want to be fired for flirting. Not to mention Geralt owns the café where Jaskier will be performing every Friday and Saturday night so he's doubly Jaskier's boss.

Listen, Yennefer might have been the one to hire him but Geralt's name is on all of the paperwork so he's going to operate under the impression that Geralt is the boss until someone corrects him.

And there's also Yennefer, the stunning and scary ex-wife Jaskier is pretty sure could turn him to stone with a single look. He's never met a couple that's still friends- and clearly good friends- after divorcing one another and he's dying to know the story but refrains himself from asking for now. But Yennefer is clearly protective over her half of the business and of Geralt and Ciri as well.

So Jaskier is not going to flirt, fuck or fall in love with Geralt. And that's all there is to it.

Fuck, he thinks when Geralt opens the door in tight black jeans and a dark henley that clings obscenely, his hair scraped back in a hurried bun that's half fallen out.

Okay listen, he doesn't have a rule about lusting after bosses or parents so technically he won't be breaking a rule if he just... fanaticizes a bit.

Ciri frowns at him. "Piano lessons," she moans, flinging herself dramatically over Roach, the bright pink fairy wings on her back fluttering with the motion. "I wanna do something else!"

Geralt sighs and ushers Jaskier inside. "She's been like this all day." Oh, Geralt sounds annoyed, voice all deep and growly. "You like playing the piano," he reminds his daughter with exasperation.

"Teachers are no fun," Ciri announces into Roach's fur. "Are school teachers like that?"

"They better not be. If Jaskier hits you, bite him."

Ciri's head comes up at that.

"Let me make a promise right here and now: I am not going to be hitting anyone for any reason." Jaskier crosses his heart with a finger and gives Ciri a very serious look. "I can also promise I'm a lot more fun than whoever you had last."

Ciri seems to be considering this.

Jaskier tips his head at the very nice keyboard in the corner and makes a show out of taking out his sheet music. "Your dad told me all the songs you learned under he-that-shall-not-be-named was teaching you and I think you're right: they all sound dreadfully boring."

"Some of them were pretty," Ciri admits, sitting up fully now. "But boring. "

Some teachers seem to forget that most kids are just kids and need to be able to keep their attention long enough to teach them something. You have to cater to the child's interests or you're never going to get anywhere with them.

"Well, how about I play you a song and you tell me if you want to learn it," Jaskier proposes, arranging himself at the keyboard. "I think you'll like this one."

He plays a handful of notes and sees the moment it lands. Geralt tips his head back with exasperation and Ciri lights up, scrambling over to join Jaskier at the seat, bouncing on her toes.

"We Don't Talk About Bruno! " she shrieks.

"Oh no," Geralt groans.

Ciri looks like the entire world has been flipped on its axis. She looks up at Jaskier with wide, sparkling eyes. "I didn't know you could play this on the piano!"

Jaskier smiles at them both and keeps playing. It's a little advanced, sure, but if he can get Ciri to agree to learn it then he can sneak in several lessons and scales to practice that'll help her in other pieces. It'll take weeks for her to get it down, longer if she doesn't practice (and well, she's five, she's probably going to forget or not want to at some point) and there are a ton of lessons and tricks he can slip in to help her learn as they go. He'd taken a guess about Disney and it seems he was right and he fully intends to use this to his advantage.

This is what makes him the fun teacher at the school. He's well known for letting the younger kids learn the Pokémon theme song as one of their first assignments. They're usually so excited about the Pokémon of it all they don't even realize they're practicing an hour a day.

It works every time.

"What do you say, Ciri? Want to learn why we don't talk about Bruno?"

"It's going to be stuck in my head all day," Geralt mutters. But he's smiling as he says it. Gives Jaskier a small nod.

"Yeah!" Ciri scrambles up and places her hands on the keys. Turns to Jaskier expectantly.

And so the lesson begins.

Ciri spends twenty minutes chattering about the song to Yennefer when they all go downstairs- without Roach, who rarely if ever ventures downstairs on music nights. She's very excited about it- and to Jaskier's relief she is indeed advanced enough to make her way through most of the notes of the opening bars with only a few corrections. He gives her some scales to practice and thrills her by singing the entire song as best he can.

It's hard to sing with everyone singing over each other but Ciri doesn't mind helping him out, blurting out lines and background vocals as he plays.

"She had fun," Geralt says, looking faintly dazed.

Jaskier feels enormously proud of himself. "If you can find what the child is interested in and build a skill around that you've got them. It's a great song too. Catchy. Though now it's going to be stuck in my head all day too."

"Serves you right."

Jaskier laughs. "I have a few other songs for her to try- some less advanced in case this proves to be too much." He pauses, considering. "I think she can do it. I'll give her a few weeks and see but you're going to have to be on her about practicing. That's where I lose most of the students: they stop practicing the minute they're out of my sight."

"Hmm."

Jaskier takes it as acceptance and goes back to tuning his guitar. He's not nervous, he never gets nervous before a performance but it's a new venue and he's gotten the okay from Yennefer and Geralt both to sprinkle in some of his original work in after he gets the crowd's attention with his more popular covers.

Hozier is always a hit. The clip of him singing Someone New to Roach and Ciri last week is doing some decent numbers on Instagram according to his friends. Jaskier does his best not to check his socials for a while when he uploads new music or gets tagged in things. He tends to lose himself in the numbers instead of the performances but Essi swears the cover is a hit.

He's pretty sure he has the adorable child and dog duo to thank for that.

He did make sure to upload a quick clip about his new gig at The Witchery though. Some networking is needed if he's going to prove his worth. He'll never be as big and famous as the top artists and he made peace with that long ago but it never hurts to advertise.

Renfri bursts into the kitchen with wide eyes. "Geralt, it's fucking packed out there. Do we have anyone we can call in for extra help? I'm running out of counter space."

Geralt frowns, standing from the small table he and Yennefer and Ciri are all settled at and goes to peer out into the café.

"Holy shit." Geralt reaches for an apron and hastily throws it on. "What do you need?"

"Six bread bowls, I have eight different cookie orders- we're completely out of snickerdoodles- plus five different sandwiches and that's just from the last ten minutes. It's been like this for two hours and it's getting worse. Don't even ask about the drink orders."

Yennefer blinks. Turns to Jaskier. "What did you do?"

Jaskier shifts nervously in his seat, tuning forgotten. "Why do you assume I did something?" he asks, already trying to figure out what exactly he did and why everyone is freaking out.

"Call Triss, see if she'll come in. Get a hold of some of the part-timers too." Geralt is in full boss mode now, barking out orders as he gets more dough out of the fridge and sprinkles flour over the top of one of the counters. "Focus on the drinks for now and tell everyone the food is coming."

"It has to be you," Yennefer insists, staring into the crowd with raised brows. "Music night is never this popular and I know you posted that you were going to play tonight."

"But I'm not famous or anything so why would holy shit that's a lot of people. "

It's standing room only, the café completely filled and bursting at the seams. Renfri is a blur at the drinks counter, the blender going practically nonstop, the espresso machine hissing and steaming away. People are crowded around the counter, crammed into tables and booths. Some people are even perched on the window sills, glancing between the stage and their phones. There's a line out the door of people waiting to get in.

Jaskier's more than a little confused. He doesn't even draw this big of a crowd when he's busking- not that he really has a schedule for that, it mostly happens when the whim strikes him. His videos do okay when he remembers to post them but this is...

"What the hell," he mutters. "This can't be for me."

"Uh." Yennefer shoves her phone under Jaskier's nose. "Seems to be because of you. And Roach."

Jaskier grabs the phone. Geralt's head snaps up. "What?" they both ask.

"Apparently," Yennefer explains as the video plays out in Jaskier's palm, "someone recorded Roach falling in love with Jaskier and posted it and it's gone viral. Someone figured out it was Jaskier, tagged him in it, and now there's a giant crowd outside waiting to see him play because he uploaded a ten second clip about playing here this weekend."

Sincerely stunned, it takes Jaskier a full five seconds to remember to close his mouth.

"I posted that two days ago! How the..." Suddenly struck by the absurdity of the situation, Jaskier can't help but laugh. "Well. If this is how my fifteen minutes of fame plays out, I can't really say I mind."

Geralt's hand is covered in dough and flour when he snatches Yennefer's phone out of Jaskier's hand. Jaskier frowns and wipes the excess off on Geralt's already covered shirt. Geralt doesn't even move, intently staring at the screen as the video plays.

The video isn't anything special really, just his performance in the park last week complete with Roach trotting up, ears up, tail wagging, and sitting at Jaskier's feet, watching him perform. He'd noticed about halfway through the chorus and turned to sing to her rather than the crowd, his grin growing when she'd began wiggling with joy. It even captures the moment Roach spies his lunch off to the side and helps herself, Jaskier laughing and kneeling to pet her when the song ends.

It ends with Ciri running up and hugging the deliriously happy dog, her face obscured by her hood, Geralt strolling up just as the video loops back around to play again.

Geralt blinks, a crease forming between his brow.

"My dog is famous," he says a little blankly.

"Ciri's dog and yeah, kind of." Yennefer snatches her phone back. "Some people stitched this video with the audition video from the café and recognized her and Jaskier. Haven't you been tagged in this? It's everywhere."

Jaskier shakes his head, still trying to wrap his mind around this. It's honestly a little bit funny and he can't stop grinning. "I never check the socials- I'm terrible about it honestly. So I didn't... wait is that why my notifications have been going crazy? I thought it was a bug or something."

Renfri throws a wide-eyed but vaguely murderous look into the kitchen. Jaskier grabs his guitar, squaring his shoulders.

"Well," he says, feeling lighter than he has in ages, excitement pumping through him. There's a crowd here and they're here for him. To hear him perform. He's going to give them what they want. "Best get to it then."

He steps out into the crowd and towards the stage and prays that his hands don't shake when he steps up to the mic. The hush that falls over the crowd feels like something holy, every eye in the room on him and waiting with baited breath for him to start. For him to play, to sing, to perform.

He takes a deep breath.

"Hello everyone," he greets the room at large. "I take it you've all seen the video of my number one fan, Roach the sandwich thief. She's a bit shy so I'm afraid we won't be seeing her out here tonight. I hope I'm an acceptable substitute. Let's start with one of my favorites..."

Phones come up, cameras turn on. The faint chatter in the crowd falls quiet. Even the blender seems to silence itself.

Jaskier breathes in once. Strikes a chord. And sings.

"Everything." Renfri says it with dazed disbelief. "We ran out of everything. "

It's two hours past closing. The floors are finally mopped, the doors are locked. Ciri wilted and faded hours ago, Yennefer disappearing with her upstairs to put her to bed. Triss is curled up in a booth half asleep, head pillowed on her arm. She's usually the morning baker and isn't used to being up so late- Geralt had had to offer her the next morning off to even get her in the door tonight.

"We don't even have smoothie ingredients," Renfri continues, still speaking to the ceiling from her half melted over the chair back position. "We called in all the servers, all the deli people and we still couldn't keep up."

Jaskier doesn't bother lifting his head from the table top to see who shuffles to their feet and disappears into the kitchen. It's a good thing he'd done his vocal warmups before heading to Ciri's lesson this afternoon, otherwise his voice would be rough.

He'd done a four hour show with a ten minute break in the middle. Somewhere in there he was supposed to have had a longer break but he'd been riding that performance feeling so long he never realized when he should have stopped.

The crowd never thinned. Geralt had to kick most everyone out.

"It was amazing," he croaks. He'd kill a man for some water right about now. Nice cool water to soothe his throat. He'd sung his usuals: Hozier, Florence Welsh, some Queen. Lots of oldies, new Indie hits, and even four of his own songs- to just as loud applause thank you.

Jaskier manages to haul himself upright and blink everything into focus. "I can't believe Roach is famous now."

"Pretty sure you're the famous one, O Mighty Artiste," Geralt calls from the kitchen.

"You clearly have no idea how famous dogs are on the internet, Geralt. Plus have you seen your dog?"

"Ciri's dog."

"Right, yes of course, Ciri's dog," Jaskier corrects, twisting to catch sight of Geralt moving around behind the kitchen door. "She's adorable with her chubby cheeks and her big dog grin. Internet superstar right there! I'm just happy to be riding on her coattails, catching some of the drift."

Renfri snags the tip jar and drags it into her lap with a slightly manic look. "I was going to say I quit but god damn look at this tip jar. It's overflowing!"

 Jaskier's tip jar is similarly full and he sternly tells himself he is not allowed to spend all of it on that fancy new electric bass he'd spotted in the music store window two weeks ago. He has rent to pay. He's an adult. He already has plenty of instruments at home.

...except the bass is purple and it's amazing, and oh the sound it had made when Jaskier tried it out. Worth it, it would be totally worth it.

"I'm going home and going to bed," Triss announces with a yawn. "G'night."

"Thanks Triss," Geralt says from behind Jaskier. He places a plate and a full glass of water down in front of Jaskier. "Eat. You didn't get your last break."

Jaskier's already halfway through the glass of water. "You're a god among men," he declares, stuffing half the sandwich in his mouth. Renfri's hand streaks across the table and steals the dill pickle. Jaskier is too busy enjoying the best roast beef sandwich he's ever had in his life to care. "Good bread," he manages, still chewing.

"Good show," Geralt says, sitting down with a gusty sigh. "Good tips, good business."

Yennefer appears, perfect and scary even without her makeup on. "Ciri's dead asleep, her fierce guard dog snoring beside her." She eyes each of them with a smirk. "How was it?"

Renfri stops counting her tip money long enough to let out a loud groan.

"Busy."

Something gleams in Yennefer's eyes. "Maybe tomorrow will be the same. I bet you've made a quarter's earnings tonight alone, Geralt."

Geralt shuts his eyes, leaning back in the chair, one foot propped up on the chair across from him. "Probably. I'll come in early and start baking the replacements in the morning. Pulling in a part-timer for extra hours to give me a hand."

Jaskier downs the last of his food, feeling warm and full and content but still buzzing slightly off the energy of such a long set. Such a big crowd, such amazing energy. Good food cooking and being shared, drinks and laughter being passed around. His voice carrying out over it all and being lapped up, more demanded. People danced, people sang, they recorded the show and shared it and more people came in.

He honestly doesn't know how he's going to top this. If he ever will.

"Not a bad day of fame," he muses out loud. "I wonder if tomorrow I can get away with more of my songs."

Geralt cracks one eye open. "You have more?"

"I have entire notebooks full of songs. Some of them are even good enough to play."

Yennefer moves to stand in front of him, hands on her hips. "Do you have an album or a Spotify or something? We need to get that promoted. I looked but couldn't find anything official. I want to hear the songs before you perform them tomorrow but I don't see anything wrong with adding more of your own stuff into the mix. It was mostly covers tonight, let's mix it up a little."

If Jaskier gets any happier he is going to vibrate through the floor. A venue that wants him to play more of his originals? Yes, oh yes. It won't always be as busy as tonight was- surely tonight was a fluke, a viral video causing his minor local fame bump and it's all going to die down eventually. But if he gets a steady enough gig going maybe he can finally finish up his album. And maybe it won't be independently made for a change, recorded in a studio rather than his closet or the studio he rents at the school during off hours.

"I'll send you links," he tells Yennefer. "My album isn’t done yet- still working on it. And I'll put it up on my Instagram- tag me in any videos you find? I'll be sure to tag The Witchery too. Geralt, do you have any socials?"

"No."

Jaskier laughs. "I'm entirely unsurprised by that answer but you should at least make Roach an Instagram."

Geralt looks bewildered by the entire idea. "Why would I make my dog an Instagram account?"

"Technically you'd be making Ciri's dog an Instagram account," Jaskier corrects, emptying out his own tip jar and trying not to gawk at the amount of bills on the table.

"Why the hell- no." Geralt shakes his head. "Absolutely fucking not."

The gleam in Yennefer's eye tells Jaskier that she's in agreement with him and that particular battle is not quite over yet. Roach will have an insta account before the month is up, he just knows it.

He's never going to perform in sold out stadiums but in a well-filled theater, in clubs, at music halls... maybe. Maybe one day.

The busking and the teaching, they're amazing. He loves them more than he thought he ever would. He makes money making music and teaching future musicians. He managed to cut a few singles that do well online. All that can be enough if this turns out to be his one day in the sun.

A steady gig at a nice café. Teaching sheet music and scales to kids just learning to find music they love or adults trying something new. The odd performance at the park. He can be- is happy with that.

That doesn't make tonight any less incredible.

"Come in tomorrow and we'll get all the tax forms filled out," Geralt says, standing to stretch. "I'd say you've earned your spot on our stage. Go home, get some rest."

"Sleep," Renfri groans. "I am doing all of the sleeping tomorrow." She pauses to glance at her pile of tip money. "I was going to say don't call me in tomorrow but if it's like it was and they're tipping just as good, call me. I'll come in."

"Goodnight Renfri."

Jaskier gathers his tips up and stands as well. The happy buzz he's been carrying is fading a little, just enough to make him yawn but it's a good kind of exhaustion, a tiredness that comes with a job well done.

"See you tomorrow," he says to the room at large.

Yennefer waves over her shoulder, head down and eyes glued to her phone. Geralt pauses in the kitchen doorway, backlit by the light spilling from the stairs. He meets Jaskier's gaze across the room and tips his head.

"Good show," he says again. "See you tomorrow."

Jaskier cannot fucking wait.

Chapter Text

It's finally here. The day Geralt's been dreading for months. All the preparation is done, all the supplies are in order. He's braced for it. He's focused on other things, he's tried ignoring it, tried over-preparing for it and none of it's worked. Time marches forward and no matter how busy the bakery is now, prompting him to hire three new people and bring in a second baker to keep up with demand it hasn't distracted Geralt enough.

Ciri starts kindergarten today.

Geralt is being perfectly calm and normal about this, thank you very much.

"You have my number memorized," he checks for the third time. Beside him Ciri sighs and huffs and sounds entirely too much like a teenager despite the fact that she's all of five years old.

"Yes Dad," she recites, done with him already but still indulging him.

How is she so calm about this? All the parenting books told him to prepare for clinginess, for crying, wailing, clutching his leg and begging him not to go. Instead Geralt can't bring himself to open the damn car door and unleash his daughter upon the school.

"And Yennefer's number?" He stops himself from asking about Vesemir's number, or Lambert's or Eskel's or Jaskier's for that matter because that will earn him an eyeroll. He can't imagine a scenario where Ciri calls his brothers before she calls him but he does know that despite them all practically living in different states if she calls one of them they'll probably get to the school around the same time Geralt does, laws of physics and speed limits be damned.

"I have my phone for emergencies," Ciri reminds him patiently. The only sign of her impatience is her wiggling a bit in her seat, fidgeting with her brand new backpack.

Geralt spent weeks tracking down that damn backpack. Ciri wanted pink but she also wanted dinosaurs. The stores did not cooperate with such a request. Apparently no one has ever wanted a pink sparkly backpack covered in dinosaurs before and Geralt nearly lost his damn mind after trekking to five different stores trying to find something even remotely close.

None of them were right. This one wasn't a good color. That one had ugly dinosaurs. Or: no Dad, that isn't pink. Or even: "That's a crocodile."

But eventually he found something that worked thanks to Jaskier, who's honestly been a bit of a godsend lately. Apparently having someone around who's used to dealing with small children is helpful when Geralt nearly has a meltdown over school supplies.

"There's a white one at the corner store near the school- saw it yesterday. Why don't you buy that and then dye it pink? You can probably dump loads of glitter on it too."

Geralt hadn't even considered that but the dinosaurs met with Ciri's approval and then Geralt thrilled her by allowing her to not only pick which shade of pink she wanted (and by the gods there are so many different shades of pink), he also allowed her to help dye the bag. Jaskier, unfortunately for Geralt, did in fact arrive with an armload of glitter for Ciri to add, which she enjoyed way too much.

Roach ended up with faintly pink paws because she couldn't stop trying to investigate what Geralt and Ciri were doing out back on the patio. Jaskier had to come intervene and distract the dog with treats and belly rubs long enough for them to clear the dye away. Ciri's white blonde hair is still tinged the faintest bit at the ends and Geralt swears his nails are growing pink now no matter how many times he's washed his hands since then.

Roach is still faintly sparkly despite the two baths Geralt put her through- and forced Jaskier to help as well, soaking the man's shirt enough to make it cling in an obscene way and spreading the glitter on them both. Geralt swears Jaskier is still sparkling even now, nearly a week after the entire debacle. He performed on stage like that, the glitter sparkling under the lights and laughed like it was all some grand joke.

Geralt forcibly removes the image of a shirtless, sparkly Jaskier from his mind and sternly tells himself to focus. He's got a kid about to start school and a business to get back to, now isn't the time for his libido to start noticing people after years of inactivity.

"And you've got your lunch," Geralt can't help but ask for what has to be the fourth time. "And the money just in case you need to buy lunch." He doesn't know why Ciri would need to buy lunch after he went through the trouble of making and packing her lunch but who knows what could happen while he's not there.

He's not going to be there. He's not going to be with Ciri for hours. He's leaving her with strangers and an underpaid, overworked teacher that's nearly a decade younger than him who'll have twenty kids to look after all at once.

" Dad. "

Geralt resists the urge to whack his head into the steering wheel. "Okay," he says heavily. Resigned, he unbuckles his seatbelt.

They get out of the car, Ciri's hand in his pink-stained one, her overly glittery (thank you, Jaskier, really) newly dyed pink backpack bouncing as she literally skips up the walk.

Ciri happily releases his hand at the door to the classroom and gives him a stern look that reminds him far too much of Yennefer.

"I'll be fine," she tells him, eyes bright and shiny and excited. "Bye Dad!"

In his pocket, Geralt's hand clenches into a fist to stop himself from reaching out to her.

"Okay," he manages. "I'll pick you up this afternoon. Be good Princess." The old nickname slips out before he can stop it. Ciri grins at him and heads inside.

Without him.

Geralt indulges himself by standing in the hallway for an extra minute (or two, or three) with the other overly anxious parents before he starts to piss himself off. He's not some helicopter parent. He's not a weirdo that's completely untethered without his five year old. He has a business to run, a shift to get to, a dog to take care of.

Ciri's going to be fine. He can see her chatting with her classmates and she needs more friends her age. Or so all the parenting books say.

It's fine. Ciri is fine. He's fine. He can survive eight hours without Ciri underfoot.

"What crawled up your ass and died?" Renfri asks two hours later.

Geralt's answer is a snarl before he stalks back into the kitchen. He wishes he could slam the door hard enough to rattle the walls but alas, the kitchen door is a revolving one and the best he can do is slam the dough onto the counter and knead it so harshly he cracks his knuckles.

So it's going well.

Roach sighs the most put-out, heartbroken doggy sigh he's ever heard in his life. She's refused to move from her spot at the foot of the stairs since Geralt came home without Ciri. She keeps staring up into the apartment or laying in front of the back door and giving him sad eyes.

Geralt wants to be annoyed by that but the most he can do is sigh too and go back to over kneading the dough.

"Well," Jaskier announces, peeking into the kitchen, "don't you two look miserable."

Roach whines low in her chest but stays by the stairs. Jaskier lets out a sympathetic hum and crosses the floor to kneel beside her.

"Aw. It's okay, I'm sure she misses you."

"Ciri's fine," Geralt grits out, pissed off all over again.

"Of course she is," Jaskier assures him, still petting Roach. "But that doesn't mean she isn't missing her best buddy in the entire world at the same time. I bet she's having so much fun right now. Probably charmed half the school already."

Entirely possible. Ciri's never met an adult she couldn't wrap around her little finger with a single glance of her big green eyes.

"She'll be home in a few hours. It's not a big deal."

Jaskier stands, dusting his hands off on his pants. He's probably getting dog hair everywhere. "I'm sure it's not," he agrees, voice pleasant.

"She's meeting kids her own age and making friends," Geralt continues, slamming another dough ball onto the counter with force to make the entire table rattle. "It's normal and healthy and she was excited."

Jaskier purses his lips and says nothing. Which is odd. The man never shuts up and now he keeps his peace? For some reason it makes Geralt's temper boil that much more. What does Jaskier know anyway? Ciri isn't his kid. The man works with kids but at a music school, plus a fair number of his students are actually his age or older.

"Geralt." Jaskier's hand lands gently on Geralt's wrist, stilling his aggressive movements and probably saving this loaf of bread. "I bet Ciri is having a blast right now, running around and playing and learning and causing all kinds of mischief and making friends."

Geralt growls and moves to jerk his hand out from under Jaskier's.

"And I bet she can't wait to come home and tell her dad all about it. Every single little detail."

And Geralt just... deflates.

He's been an asshole since this morning, his black mood only growing darker the longer his daughter wasn't in his sights. Which is absurd. He's left Ciri overnight with Yennefer before, even with Vesemir once when he and Lambert were painting her room and he was (mostly) fine then. Why is now any different?

Because she's with someone he doesn't know. The school is closer than Vesemir's place but he doesn't know the teacher the way he knows Yennefer or his foster father. There are more children to look after and corral. Anything could happen.

"I..."

Jaskier hums, tilting his head, his hand still wrapped around Geralt's. Geralt sighs heavily and rubs a flour covered hand over his forehead.

"The day I adopted Ciri I swore I'd always be there for her." He can't manage to look at Jaskier, keeping his gaze on the ovens in the far wall. Behind him, Roach settles across the doorway with a sigh that ends in a soft whine. "She needs to go to school, I know that. And I'm not some overbearing parent- some of them wanted to stay in the classroom for fuck's sake, follow their kids around."

Jaskier winces. "Oh I hate those parents- helicoptering about and not letting their children experience things like they're supposed to. Questioning the teachers, forcing the kid to sit beside them and not letting them make any friends. I had a parent hide in the bushes outside my room once and just stare at me the entire time I was teaching her son Chopsticks. "

Yeah. Geralt's met a few parents like that before. Overbearing parent groups online, overly interested mothers in the park that want to know where Ciri's mother is- shocked, just absolutely shocked when a single dad manages everything okay.

"I feel like an asshole of a father," Geralt admits quietly, now staring down at the dough in his hands. Jaskier's hand is still resting over his. "I just. I left her there. With a stranger who has twenty other kids to watch."

Jaskier worms his way into Geralt's side, slinging an arm around Geralt's back in a friendly manner, his hand sliding up to rest on Geralt's wrist now. Geralt has to steel himself so he doesn't lean into it.

"It must be hard to trust someone with your child," he says, voice nothing but sympathetic. "But as someone who actually has an asshole for a father trust me: you are not."

Geralt blinks, gaze cutting to the man at his side. His wrist is still in Jaskier's grip and he doesn't even try to shake it off. The man hugs everyone, bestowing touches and hugs and kisses to any and everyone. He kisses Yennefer on the cheek with dramatic flair every time she hands him his paycheck. He dramatically fans himself and declares passionate love for Triss whenever she sneaks him a cookie. He even hugged Renfri the other day- which she allowed for five whole seconds before threatening him with bodily harm. A record for her, truly.

He hugs Ciri, high-fives her, ruffles her hair when she gets a particularly difficult note combination correct, cheers her on when she fumbles a section of the music, tickles her when she gets restless.

And he touches Geralt. Little touches at first that have grown over the past few weeks. An arm over Geralt's shoulder, a playful elbow in the side. When they were washing Roach Jaskier even turned the hose on Geralt and then wrestled him for the shampoo. When they sit together at the table in the kitchen Jaskier's feet sometimes wind up resting against Geralt's legs as he scribbles in his notebook, lost in his compositions.

Jaskier is very tactile. Geralt's never thought of himself as tactile but raising a five year old has taught him to accept help when he needs it. Sometimes that help comes in the form of a friendly touch, a pat on the back, a hand on his wrist and simple words of encouragement.

Geralt sighs and oddly feels better with Jaskier's arm around him.

He cautiously taps one hand on Jaskier's shoulder, a friendly pat that he hopes conveys the thanks he can't quite get out of his throat.

Jaskier seems to understand, grinning up at Geralt but not extracting himself from the tangle they've found themselves in.

Geralt can't say he minds. Jaskier is roughly his height though not as broad as Geralt himself. He's fit for a music teacher, more muscle on his chest than Geralt would have guessed (unbidden, the image of Jaskier shucking his soaking shirt with a laugh springs to the front of his mind yet again ) and pleasantly wide in the shoulder.

He's also an employee so Geralt needs to shut down this line of thinking quickly before his mind (and... other places) gets any more ideas. He has rules about not getting involved with employees and he's not about to start breaking them now.

"Watch, Ciri will come running to you the moment she sees you this afternoon, brimming with excitement and tell you all about her entire day, every single minute of it." Jaskier steps away when Geralt removes his hand, unconcerned with the flour now adorning his shirt. "You'll know every single detail about today without ever having to ask even one question."

Is it wrong that he hopes so? He wants Ciri to have fun and grow into an independent person to be sure, but he also wants her safe and happy and close by. He wants to be around in case she gets into trouble or needs help, to pull her out of danger-

What danger could she get into at a school?

...best not to think about that, honestly.

"I never would have guessed she was adopted," Jaskier continues, finally noticing the flour on his shoulder and brushing it off. "You two actually look a fair bit alike."

Geralt smirks but it feels soft. His skin tingles where Jaskier had touched him. The next dough ball lands much more softly on the counter.

"I lived next door to her grandmother," he says and has no idea why he wants to tell Jaskier this. It's not like it's a secret- Ciri knows she was adopted, Yennefer spoke for Geralt at the hearing even though they were literally in the middle of their divorce and he'd had to explain to his family why he suddenly had a daughter one day. But he doesn't really talk about it now. "We hated each other. Never really got along. Her husband was okay but he died a little before everything happened. Ciri was two and decided, for some reason, that I was her best friend so Calanthe and I dealt with each other as best we could."

Jaskier is nodding as if this makes perfect sense so Geralt continues the story as he moves around the kitchen. He gathers the whole wheat flour from the cabinet, checks on his sourdough starter as he passes it.

He still remembers Calanthe turning up with Ciri one day, eyes heavy with grief when she told him bluntly that her daughter had passed away and Ciri was going to stay with her from now on. Geralt's an asshole but he's not a monster. He'd offered a simple Sorry for your loss and smiled at Ciri when she'd babbled at him.

Even back then he wasn't such an asshole that he couldn't smile at a child.

"One day she asked me to mind Ciri for a few hours so she could run some errands. I'd done it before and it was right as the divorce was going on- Calanthe said I could use the company. I'd just gotten Roach but she was still shy around me." Geralt reaches for the yeast and his preferred mixing bowl, his back to Jaskier. "A few hours later the police turned up at my door and told me there'd been an accident. Someone ran a red light and smashed into Calanthe's car. She died at the scene."

Jaskier sucks in a breath. "God."

"I was a registered foster parent- my brothers and I all are." Geralt turns back, ingredients gathered in his arms, unsurprised to see Jaskier listening with rapt attention. He's equally unsurprised to see Roach leaning against Jaskier's leg, still looking forlorn. "We grew up in the system. I knew what would happen if protective services took Ciri and I just... couldn't let that happen. So I told them I'd keep her. Less than three months later I adopted her and moved in here. She's been with me ever since."

He thought he’d be moving in the newly renovated upstairs with his wife. Instead he moved in fresh off a divorce and with a dog and his daughter.

He's never regretted it. Adopting Ciri is the single greatest thing he's ever done in his life. The timing could have been better- he'd been in the middle of divorcing his business partner, expanding said business and moving to live above the bakery. He had a newly acquired, socially anxious dog to care for and then suddenly he had a toddler too.

But it all worked out. Somehow. He and Yennefer survived the divorce and came out the other side better for it. Roach now walks up to strangers and steals their lunches. Ciri's in school and thriving.

"Oh yeah, you're such an asshole Geralt." Jaskier rolls his eyes. "The worst father in the world, to be sure."

Geralt barks out a surprised laugh. "Shut up Jaskier."

"No, no, I'm serious. Just the absolute worst! Why I should march right into the school and tell them what a horrible thing you've done, letting Ciri grow and thrive and express herself. Dyeing her backpack pink and covering yourself and your dog in glitter just to make her happy-"

"You brought the glitter. The glitter was your fault."

"- and hiring a handsome and talented music teacher to let her explore her interests, the nerve of you, sir. How dare you be worried about your daughter on her first day of school. Complete asshole, I have to agree. Shall I flog you now or do you want to wait until Ciri comes home?"

Geralt takes a pinch of flour from the bowl and tosses at Jaskier's face, chuckling when he sputters and dramatically flails.

"If you're going to be ridiculous, get out of my kitchen."

"I'll have you know I'm always ridiculous," Jaskier sniffs.

"I'm aware."

Letting out a theatrical gasp, Jaskier clutches his heart. "Oh you wound me."

"I will wound you if you stick your dirty hands in my bread," Geralt warns, gently elbowing Jaskier back and out of the way. Jaskier huffs, put out, but backs up to settle at the folding table in the corner and pulls out a notebook.

He's always carrying around a notebook these days, pen flying over the pages as he composes.

"I'll just sit over here, out of the way but on guard for any flogging duties that may come up. Asshole fathers are everywhere and if I see one in this kitchen I'll let you know."

Geralt doesn't say anything, going back to his bread with a scoff and tuning out the sound of Jaskier humming under his breath. He normally works in silence, alone in the kitchen unless the demand in the front means he needs an extra set of hands or Triss has a large decorating order to fill (which usually means he needs to stay out of her way).

But he finds he doesn't mind the soft tune Jaskier sings under his breath, even when he backtracks and fiddles with the melody, humming the same section over and over again, tapping his foot on the floor, his pen on the table, even once grabbing a set of spoons of all things and playing them.

Roach settles at Jaskier's feet with an unhappy grumble and eventually drops into sleep. Geralt measures ingredients and kneads dough and bakes and doesn't even notice time passing until it does, until he's washing his hands and darting out the door (he's not running, he's just... moving quickly) and climbing into the car.

Ciri bounds right up to him, flying into his arms for a hug and already talking.

"I got glitter everywhere from my backpack," she announces directly into Geralt's ear, her arms locked tight around his neck. "And at recess I climbed all the way to the top of the monkey bars and slid down the slide and I made a friend! His name is Dara and he likes dinosaurs too!"

Geralt nods along and absorbs it all, his daughter happily clinging to him and chattering away. She read a book and practiced her writing and did not fall asleep at nap time and some kids cried because they wanted to go home but she had a lot of fun and made a mess at art time and generally had a blast, it would seem.

The knot that loosened in the kitchen with Jaskier's hand on his wrist fully unravels as he buckles Ciri into her seat.

"Sounds like a good day."

"Did Roach miss me?" Ciri demands to know.

"She pouted all day. We'd better go home and see her before she tricks Jaskier into giving her more peanut butter with her sad eyes."

Ciri lights up. "Jaskier is there? Can I practice on the piano some more? I wanna play We don't talk about Bruno, I've almost got it! I bet I can play it! I've been practicing. "

Geralt doesn't even know if Jaskier is still at The Witchery. He can't remember if he even said goodbye before running out the door. Jaskier usually has lessons to give in the afternoons, disappearing to his other job at odd times and reappearing later to complain about parents complaining that their child is having fun playing video game music and not mastering Bach or whatever the hell they think their kid should be doing.

Somehow he's not surprised to see Jaskier right where he left him, sitting at the corner table in the kitchen, scribbling away in his notebook with a frown on his face, a furrow between his brows. What surprises him is the warmth that floods his chest at the sight of Jaskier waiting on them.

Roach comes barreling into Ciri, tail whipping up a storm. She licks every inch of Ciri's face, nails tip tapping on the floor as she dances in place and whines and yips, happy to have her human back. Ciri laughs and throws her arms around Roach.

"Jaskier!" Ciri crows, rushing over to greet him as well.

"Ciri!" Jaskier cries with just as much enthusiasm, tossing his pen down to hug the blonde missile hurtling towards him. "How was your first day of school?"

"Not enough mud puddles to play in," Ciri declares. Geralt can only be grateful for that. "Can we go practice upstairs?"

Jaskier glances at Geralt, who nods and gathers Ciri's things. "I swear you're my best student, Ciri. You always want to practice."

"Helps that she actually likes the music you assign," Geralt says, nudging Jaskier up the stairs ahead of him with a hand on his back.

"I find that that usually helps, yes. Makes the parents complain sometimes but as long as the child is playing and practicing, who cares if it's Disney songs or Skyrim or whatever. Music is supposed to be fun, creative. Playing the same things over and over again gets boring even to me."

Geralt has no idea what Skyrim is but he'll take Jaskier's word for it. Ciri's always excited to practice her scales and keys. Sometimes Geralt even wakes up to music softly drifting down the hallway, Ciri sitting at the keyboard in her pajamas, Roach half awake beside her and watching intently.

He lets them all inside, Roach and Ciri both scrambling in and nearly tripping Jaskier in their glee. Roach heads right for her cushion, Ciri for the keyboard, tugging on Jaskier's hand the entire time.

The sound of music fills the apartment, Jaskier's laughter ringing out above it all, the dog snoring loudly in the corner and Geralt smiles as the noise washes over him, content with the loud chaos in his sanctuary.

Ciri invites Jaskier to dinner without so much as glancing at Geralt.

"Oh." Jaskier blinks, looking startled. He bites his lip, clearly searching for a way to tell Ciri no without hurting her feelings, eyes cutting to Geralt and back but Geralt speaks before he can.

"Stay," he offers. "If you want. It... would be nice."

Thank you for earlier he means but can't find the words to say. It would be nice to cook for another adult and not just eat whatever Ciri is in the mood to devour tonight (usually mac and cheese). Jaskier is always around these days it seems, offering Ciri more lessons on the side, chatting with- or well at Geralt in the kitchen when it's slow. And Geralt has yet to send him away.

He actually... he wants Jaskier around. He likes it when he can hear Jaskier making noise in the background, chatting and humming and tapping out songs. Geralt doesn't want to look too much into this quite yet, doesn't want to too closely examine why he wants the attractive man chattering in his ear. Jaskier laughs and smiles and sings and talks and talks and Geralt...

Geralt will make him dinner. Geralt will listen to the talking and maybe even manage to talk back and do his best not to think about Jaskier's calloused hands around his wrist or the way his eyes sparkle when he smiles.

Jaskier is an employee. A friend. Geralt, much to his own surprise, likes the man and he isn't willing to mess this up. He's learned from his disaster of a marriage, learned while raising Ciri and knows he's not exactly cut out for anything more serious than a mild flirtation at best.

Geralt's not even sure how to flirt. Would Jaskier even be interested if he tried? Jaskier flirts with everyone he talks to. Sometimes he doesn't even need to talk to manage to make people swoon- Geralt's witnessed it several times. He doesn't always mean it, isn't always interested in whoever he's flirting with but he flirts all the same. But he flirts a lot. How the hell would Geralt even be able to tell if Jaskier is actually flirting with him?

And Geralt's going to stop that thought right there because it won't- can't- shouldn't happen. He's got a child to think about, a business to run and Jaskier is technically his employee. He has rules about sleeping with employees. After Yennefer he has a rule about sleeping with friends as well and it's the same rule: don't.

Simple to follow. Easy to not fuck up.

Doesn't stop his mind from wandering or remembering the feeling of Jaskier's arm around him, the sound of the other man's laughter ringing in his ears.

Jaskier's entire being lights up at the invitation, his smile growing even larger and Geralt finds himself returning it, loose and at ease in a way he wasn't just this morning. How does Jaskier do this to him? "Dinner sounds lovely," he says softly, eyes sparkling, lips turned upwards. He blinks and turns back to Ciri, smile never once faltering. "Shall we practice until then?"

Ciri immediately launches into the opening bars of the song, familiar to even Geralt now after weeks of determined practice.

"We don't talk about Bruno, no, no, no," she sings, fingers flying over the keys. She plays much better than she sings but Jaskier joins in, his voice clear as a bell, soaring over everything, hands gently correcting Ciri's placement when she goes to hit a wrong note.

"Isabela your boyfriend's here," Jaskier belts out, even laughing just like the character does in the movie.

And Ciri, still hitting the keys, sings out enthusiastically. "Time for dinner!"

Geralt finds himself humming along in the kitchen, quietly singing under his breath as he prepares dinner for three.

Chapter Text

Essi grimaces at Jaskier from the reception desk as soon as he walks in the door which is never a good sign.

"Valdo wants to see you," she tells him. Her voice tells him everything he wants to know without her saying any more than that. Jaskier sighs, bites back a groan and heads for Valdo's office, bracing himself.

He hasn't done anything lately that could land him in hot water. He doesn't think. His lessons with Ciri have nothing to do with the academy so Valdo can't chew him out over crushing on Geralt or spending extra time on Ciri's lessons, undercharging for the time or even offering tips on the side. He's even been careful to keep Ciri's face out of any videos he posts online- for both her privacy and to keep Valdo from sniffing around and trying to poach her.

He's had parents grumble at him of course, upset that their child isn't a prodigy that's already mastered an instrument. Some have mentioned they thought the music they'd be learning would be more advanced but they've been for the most part mollified when Jaskier explains that starting with basics and then moving to something fun is paving the way for more advanced music. Usually that's that.

Jaskier does like this job. He likes his students, he likes the space, he likes that there's a recording studio he's allowed to use to (finally) finish making his album. He's been inspired lately, soaking up the atmosphere of The Witchery and translating that into his songs. The music is coming to him fast, the songs pouring out of him and he's thriving.

Getting to ogle Geralt in the kitchen as he writes is helping things along as well.

He's got the freedom to mostly teach as he pleases and he's popular- there's even a list of people waiting for him to have a spot open in his schedule and a lot of them if they're not willing to wait will hire him independently for lessons outside of the school, though currently all Jaskier's spots for that are full as well.

Jaskier's pretty sure Valdo hates that but he can't stop Jaskier from giving private lessons any more than he can stop any of the other teachers from doing the same. What they do on school grounds and on school time is school business but outside of that they're free to do what they please. He knows Shani teaches choir at a local public school on the side and Valdo hates that the best harp teacher in the area only works for him part-time.

All too soon Jaskier finds himself standing in front of the polished oak door, the tacky gold nameplate and embossed script off to the side that lets everyone know it's the Office of Valdo Marx, headmaster …and certified pretentious ass as Jaskier calls him in his head. He pays well but he’s very full of himself, more prone to catering to the wants a parent if they pay enough instead of whatever a child needs. He doesn’t even teach any students himself.

Whatever his reason for calling Jaskier into his office, it’s probably not something Jaskier is going to like.

And today started off so well- waking up to even more Band Camp and Spotify listens and downloads, his bank account growing and a message from Geralt complaining about Ciri playing her newest set of scales too much- Jaskier could feel the affection for the girl oozing out of the screen even through Geralt's annoyance at being woken up to piano music at six am on his day to sleep in.

The video of Ciri and Roach sitting at the keyboard, both grinning wide and Geralt's deep chuckle had him all but floating into work. Ciri loves playing, loves the music and more she enjoys learning new things. She's been begging Jaskier to find music from The Little Mermaid and Jaskier finally tracked down something he's sure she's going to love. He can't wait for their next lesson.

Jaskier is thriving right now. He's flourishing. He's playing music at a lovely venue, his own music is being well received, his bank account is growing by the day and his students are learning and happy and usually look forward to their next lessons with him. Geralt's made him dinner at his place three times now and has even started reaching out to casually return his touches that starts with a hand on his shoulder and ends with a gentle squeeze around his wrist. Geralt's smiling more openly around him, even dropping into an open chair beside Jaskier when he's on break.

The other day Geralt asked about the song Jaskier was composing. In his own way. He mostly complained that the melody keeps getting stuck in his head which is wonderful praise coming from him. Jaskier actually caught him humming it a few days ago, then rolling his eyes when he saw Jaskier standing there, mouth open.

"Toss a coin- what? It's… it's catchy. Can’t get the damn thing out of my head."

Jaskier had floated through that night's performance, belting his heart out and causing his tip jar to overflow. Geralt tends to stick to the kitchen on music nights, baking more to try and keep up with the demand but that night he'd leaned against the kitchen door and watched the entire thing, arms crossed, eyes on Jaskier the entire time.

It's all going so well.

So of course, naturally, Valdo is here to rain on the parade.

"Jaskier."

"Valdo." Jaskier makes a show of casually draping himself in the uncomfortable chair Valdo has in his office and tries to appear unconcerned. Valdo tries to insist that even the teachers call him Headmaster but none of them do. "What can I do for you?" He's got a lesson in an hour and he needs to prepare. This student has been a challenge but Jaskier is sure he's got the guy figured out now.

Jaskier's not the biggest fan of country music but this student is. He's older and struggling a bit to pick up violin and connect with the music but Jaskier's certain he can get the guy interested in this next song. The classics haven't done anything for him, making him uninterested in practicing outside of his lessons.

And in a way, The Devil Went Down To Georgia is a classic piece. He's spent the last week practicing it himself to make sure he knows it well enough to teach it. Country isn't his strong suit but if that's what the students likes, if that's what he wants then by god that's what Jaskier is going to teach him.

Valdo fiddles with some papers on his desk, taking his time in answering. He's the boss, he owns and runs Marx's Classical Academy so Jaskier doesn't have much of a choice but to sit here and wait for him to decide to talk. It doesn't take too long.

"I understand your lessons have been going well."

Jaskier nods. "Very well. The students are engaged and enjoying themselves. Most of them are even practicing the recommended hours, though some of the younger ones are easily distracted."

Valdo purses his lips. Jaskier wonders if he knows he's got a crumb stuck in his ridiculous mustache. "And your... performances at that little café."

Jaskier decides not to mention the crumb.

"The Witchery is amazing," Jaskier gushes instead, sitting up. "The food is incredible, the atmosphere is just divine and the crowds are so engaging when I perform. They're adding more music in on days I'm not there just to keep the energy up- just an extra performance a week, it's still mostly just a café but well, why not capitalize on the market while it's hot? People keep coming in and now the website even takes requests so I know what to play on the weekends-"

"Yes," Valdo cuts in, face pinched. "Very good."

Jaskier raises a brow, knowing full well Valdo doesn't actually mean that. What he has against performing in cafes and parks Jaskier will never know. Busking is fun - and around here very lucrative. He's been missing it actually and is considering giving a small performance in the park for old time's sake. He doesn't need the extra money right now- his bank account is actually rather full at this exact moment- but he misses the sun shining down on him and the way the music echoes around him, the way people stop walking to watch and listen.

He loves performing, loves brightening people's day with a few notes, a few sung words. He enjoys teaching, don't get him wrong. It's fulfilling and satisfying and amazing to watch that second a student realizes they've nailed a particularly hard piece they've been working on for weeks, but he loves to perform as well.

Jaskier even has a few emails in his inbox from local theaters offering him a spot to perform on their stage but he's not about to mention that to Valdo either. The man might be his boss at the school but outside of it Jaskier is free to do whatever he wants with his music.

"Listen, Jaskier." Valdo sighs heavily. "I've gotten some complaints."

"Oh?" This is the first he's hearing about any complaints other than when he turns down genuine requests for private lessons for students. Most people accept the no, understand that he's too busy to take on more than a handful of private lessons right now, but some people (Karens, it's always Karens) expect him to just give in if they throw enough money at him.

He's been turning the spoiled rich people down on principle if he's completely honest. He wouldn't put it past some to go straight to Valdo with complaints about what Jaskier does in his own free time.

"Yes. I've heard from some people that you're allowing some of your younger students to play Disney songs of all things."

Jaskier blinks, caught off guard and wondering what the problem is. "Well yes," he says, not sure where this is going. "It's always harder to get younger kids interested in practicing and performing. It's easier to let them pick a song they love and teach them how to play it in order to get them started. Usually at that age it's Disney." He bites his tongue against the urge to mention Ciri and We Don't Talk About Bruno or the way she's been hyperfocused on mastering it for the past three months.

She's very nearly managed it. It's nothing short of incredible. Jaskier's so proud of her and already running through other things he can teach her with all she's learned since they started.

Valdo hums, hands steepling under his chin. "Easier, but not better," he says, tapping his fingers against his lips. "Do you normally take the easier route, Jaskier?"

Jaskier rears back slightly, something cold and slimy wiggling in his stomach. "I- what?"

"It's easier to teach them Disney songs," Valdo says and it sounds so wrong when he says it, like it's something to be ashamed of. "Easier to keep their attention but what will it do for their careers? Parents have been complaining about this for a while. I thought you'd stop after our last talk but it seems you didn't heed my last warning."

"Warning? What warn- we never talked about anything like this. Valdo, a lot of my students are under ten. I'm not going to start them off learning Scheherazade. My job is to get them interested and passionate about the music, teach them to practice and you’ve never-"

"Your job," Valdo interrupts, placing his hands flat on his desk and leaning in, "is to teach music. Not Disney-themed drivel. If you can't teach them real music then you have no business teaching at my school."

Jaskier very nearly comes up out of his chair. "Excuse me-!?"

"Marx's Classical Academy," Valdo says, lifting his chin. The crumb on his lip wobbles. "We teach music here Mr. Pankratz, not trash. If you can't get your students interested in proper music, the correct music then we'll need to revisit your employment."

Mouth hanging open, sincerely stunned, Jaskier can only sit there and stare.

Real music? Proper music? What the actual fuck?

"Valdo-"

"I think it best if you take a break from your lessons, since you’re apparently too busy to take on more private clients at this time," Valdo says now, ignoring Jaskier's sputter of outrage. "I've already arranged for your lessons to be covered for the next two weeks. If I were you-"

Now Jaskier does come up out of his chair. "Two weeks!?"

"If I were you," Valdo repeats, voice louder, eyes steely, "I'd take this time to reconsider your priorities. You've been distracted lately, everyone's noticed. Private lessons, busking, café performances. An album. God only knows what else. It's natural to have something fall to the side with so much on your plate but I will not allow it to be our clients."

Jaskier honestly can't believe what he's hearing.

"Teaching is a privilege. Teaching here even more so." Valdo stands now as well. He's a head shorter than Jaskier and still manages to look down his nose at the other man. "If you can't teach properly and with your full attention... perhaps it's best to move on."

"You're firing me. Because I have outside gigs? Are you serious?"

Valdo scoffs. "Not yet, though I would be well within my rights to at this point. You've been turning down our best clients for private lessons while claiming you want what's best for their kids and yet you have time to perform at cafes and give lessons to people that aren't even enrolled here. I'm giving you two weeks off to clear your head, Jaskier. Hopefully in that time you'll come to your senses."

He flicks his hands at Jaskier, shooing him. The man is shooing him away like Jaskier is some kind of naughty school child that Valdo doesn't have time for, not a grown ass man who's gotten dozens of people interested in music over the years.

"Thank you for your time and I hope I'll see you in two weeks with a fresh attitude and a better appreciation for your position here and more time on your hands. Please shut the door behind you."

Yennefer seems just as, if not more, insulted by the entire thing when Jaskier is done with his rant.

" Little café, " she repeats incredulously. "Little."

"I know!" Jaskier throws up a hand, barely resisting the urge to beat his head against the wall. "Shows what he knows. Not only is this place enormous it's now locally famous. He's a snob, I always knew he was a snob but I never thought he was this bad."

Yennefer can't seem to get over the little café comment. "We've had write-ups in a few online articles since you started here and some before you even got here. We've been here for six years!"

"Seven," Geralt corrects with his head in the fridge.

"Seven years!" Yennefer scoffs, tossing her braid over her shoulder. "I'd like to see him take a baker's stand and turn it into a booming café business, see how he does."

Jaskier chuckles, the pounding headache that's been screaming behind his eyes easing a bit. "Valdo would never lower himself to work what he considers to be a menial job. I can't get over how he said I had to teach proper music- like classical is the only thing worthy of being taught and learned. That's so limiting."

Geralt sets a bowl full of frozen butter on the table and raises a brow at Jaskier. "Not a fan of classical music?"

"I like it just fine but I'm aware there's all kinds of music out there and I know it's not for everyone. I have... had a student I was supposed to work with today that's really into country and bluegrass so that's the route we were going to take in today's lesson." He sighs, still annoyed. "I just... I don't know, I feel like this came out of nowhere."

"To be fair," Geralt says, tying an apron around his waist. Jaskier has no idea why it's so attractive to watch, just that he can't tear his eyes away from the act of the strings being tied. "It is called Marx's Classical Academy."

"Little café," Yennefer mutters, stalking over to the broken cookie bowl and snatching one up. Roach's ears come up at the motion. She knows better than to beg food from Yen but that doesn't stop the hopeful look in her eye or the pleading whine she lets out.

"I thought that was just the name, not the musical requirement. Plenty of people love classical music. Lots of people don't. I'm not even the only instructor there that teaches things other than classical music but I'm the one that gets suspended."

"Has he ever even seen The Witchery?"

"Let it go Yen," Geralt advises, dusting his hands with flour. Roach trots over to sniff at his knees, hoping for crumbs. Disappointed, she disappears upstairs to nap away from the noisy humans and wait for Ciri to get home.

Yennefer looks insulted by the very suggestion. "I absolutely will not and you should be just as insulted."

"I don't have time to be insulted."

"How can someone open a school of music and then only teach one thing?" Jaskier demands, throwing both hands up in the air. "It was never a problem when I first started and now suddenly I'm not allowed to teach what my students want to learn? I've been there for three years- I have a wait list for crying out loud and he suspends me because I taught someone how to play Tale As Old As Time and they enjoyed it? Because I wouldn't give up playing here to teach more private lessons through the school? I’d like to see him record an album while doing private lessons and working at a pretentious school taught by a pretentious asshat with delusions of grandeur!”

Yennefer grabs another cookie and offers it to him. Jaskier snatches it out of her hand and bites into it with vigor. The melting chocolate does nothing to soothe his temper.

"Did you have a contract?" Yennefer asks, munching on her imperfect cookie and somehow avoiding getting a single crumb on her fabulous outfit. "I know a good lawyer who could look the contract over for you. If he’s in breach…"

"No, just standard employment." Jaskier sighs and licks the chocolate from his thumb. It’s really good chocolate. "I mean he's right, he can suspend me or fire me at his discretion but that doesn't make him any less slimy. He doesn’t even have any students himself, what the hell does he know about teaching anyway!?”

Geralt lays out some dough on the table and begins chopping up the frozen butter, the muscles in his forearms flexing as he presses down. It's extremely distracting and Jaskier is suddenly less annoyed about the entire thing. Watching Geralt work is soothing even when he's scowling and stomping around.

Plus it's hard to focus on anything with those arms on display.

"People were complaining that you... what, got their kids to actually practice?" Geralt asks now, pausing mid cut. His arm is still flexed. "Because they didn't like the music you were teaching?"

"So Valdo said. First I've heard about it outside of a quiet grumble or two."

Geralt frowns now, turning back to the butter. "But you were hired to teach music. You taught music. They don't have to like it, especially if they're not the students."

Jaskier jabs a finger at him. "Precisely my point! Who cares if your eleven year old wants to play something from The Pirates of the Caribbean soundtrack when he practices. So long as he's actually practicing who cares what he plays! You signed up for listening to the music when you signed your kid up for music lessons!"

Honestly the entire situation is pissing Jaskier off something fierce. If parents were truly complaining about the music he was teaching why did they go to Valdo and not him? Why complain at all if their child is obviously enjoying what they're learning and actually learning something in the process? If they're putting in the work and having fun at the same time how is that a problem?

Music is supposed to be fun. Creative. It's meant to be enjoyed. Limiting yourself to one genre is so... limiting.

Some parents have firm opinions on what their child should do. Jaskier can't count the number of students he's had over the years that only picks up their instrument because their parents demand it. They start hating coming to the school, hating the music, hating the lessons, then the parent is angry (usually at Jaskier) which makes the child even more angry and then no one learns anything.

Some people enjoy music but don't want to create it. Some people don't like classical music.

He's still stuck on that. Valdo’s never once mentioned that Jaskier was supposed to only teach classical pieces. Plenty of his students enjoyed classical music but the vast majority of the younger ones were more interested in video game or movie soundtracks. Jaskier would get them hooked that way and then attempt to branch out into other things once they had the basics down and the confidence of learning one song behind them. Some of them even turned to classical music after that!

"Sounds like this Valdo guy was jealous."

Jaskier blinks up at Geralt, just barely managing to tear his eyes away from The Arms. "Of what?"

"You." Geralt picks up hunks of frozen butter and begins laying it on the dough. "You've got a music career that's not limited to teaching. Your performances are doing well and you're making money off it. More, you're happy with it. Enjoying it. Don't think he liked that very much."

Yennefer hums, folding herself neatly into a chair and pulling out her phone. "Didn't he have a failed music career himself? Got fired from some orchestra or something years ago?"

Possibly. Jaskier vaguely remembers something about that- he's never really been all that interested in what Valdo got up to before he opened his school. He does know that Valdo was in an orchestra years ago, played second chair violin or something like that, then left. Jaskier never bothered to ask why. Didn't really care to find out.

"So, what... my career takes off so he tries to keep me at the school by suspending me?"

Geralt folds the dough over the butter, picking up a rolling pin. "Sounds like it."

"Huh. Well that's not a very good plan. With the way everything's been going lately I have enough money to get by for a year at least and that’s if I stop busking and performing here. Plus I'm dropping my album next week and if my singles are anything to go by I'll at least be getting some extra income from that. I hope."

He will. He will get more downloads and hits and people will enjoy his music. He hasn't poured weeks, months of work into this album, sweating in a small, rented recording studio just to have everything blow up in his face now.

Valdo be dammed, Jaskier is going to keep making music and teaching what he wants to teach and he's going to enjoy every minute of it just to spite that snobby dick.

Jaskier's very good at spite. He's gotten far on it before and it hasn't failed him yet.

Yennefer grins at him. It's slightly feral. "I bet that's why he suspended you. He's hoping your album does poorly and you'll come crawling back, ready to do anything he wants just to keep your job."

Geralt brings the rolling pin down on the dough, whacking it hard over and over again until it's tinged the faintest bit yellow.

"What on earth are you doing?" Jaskier asks when he's done.

"Making croissants."

"By beating butter into dough?" Interested, Jaskier moves closer, watching as Geralt lifts the pin again and flattens the butter in the next section. He's never actually seen the croissants be made before. He usually gets here right as they come out of the oven and tries to sneak one off the pan while they're still cooling.

Geralt always sees him coming. He's never managed it yet.

Geralt holds the pin out to him. "Here, try."

Jaskier looks at the dough, the pin, then to Geralt. He grins. Hitting something a few times sounds about perfect right now actually. He takes the pin. Geralt maneuvers him to the right spot at the table, one hand over Jaskier's and demonstrates once before releasing him.

It's very satisfying.

"You should charge people money to do that," he says when he's done. He feels much calmer now.

"I don't like people in my kitchen."

Yennefer snorts from the corner. Geralt shoots her a glare which she has no problems ignoring. Jaskier twirls the rolling pin in his hand, a slightly manic grin on his face.

"Why don't you open your own school?" Geralt asks, relieving Jaskier of the rolling pin before he can find something else to beat with it. It's actually quite a lot of fun. "Teach what you want to who you want. You're a good teacher- I never thought Ciri would play again after that last teacher and she plays nearly every day now. She loves it again and it's because of you."

"Ah well, that's actually mostly because Ciri is amazing and I clocked her musical interests pretty quickly. She's really very talented. I can't wait to see how much more she can learn."

He loves teaching Ciri. He loves introducing people to music and watching their interest, their talent bloom and grow. Not everyone has natural talent, or the patience and will to practice as often as they should but anyone can learn the art if they want to.

He's never considered opening his own school before. He's always done private lessons or worked at one school or another. There aren't many of them in the area around here and Valdo's is the largest... could he even compete with them? Jaskier might not agree with or like the way they're apparently trying to do things now but that doesn't mean others don't. If people really were complaining then...

"You should think about it," Yennefer says without looking up. "You said you had a wait list- call them up and let them know you're free to give lessons outside of the school now. Get a client base going and then start looking for places to rent if you don't want to use your apartment. Loads of good buildings around here- I know a few good realtors. I'm sure you can find something that suits."

Now that the idea is in his head his mind is running away with it. Because he could if he wants to. Rent a space, take on some more students, grow his business slowly. Maybe hire on a few extra instructors in the future. Teach whatever the fuck he wants to, let the students learn whatever pleases them. The freedom of that is so so tempting.

"I could," he acknowledges. "I've got contacts, other teachers I know, students that might want to keep learning from me even without Valdo's school. There are other things I want to focus on for now- maybe a concert to give at a local theater, the album coming out, the lessons I've already got but... maybe. In the future."

Wouldn't it just piss Valdo right off to know that Jaskier, instead of crawling back with his tail between his legs sets off to open his own school and teach his own way? That alone might be worth it. Even just imagining Valdo's face when he realizes that Jaskier is doing just fine without his employment lifts his mood significantly.

Though he doesn't want to open a school just to spite someone. Spite is all well and good but eventually you do run out of it- or so Jaskier's heard. He wants better motivations for such an adventure should he take it on. It's not impossible- there are students that request him specifically and with his popularity on the rise wouldn't it be better to strike while the iron is hot? Use some of that notoriety to get word out about a new business?

Can he even run a business? Should he? Would he be able to keep it going? Would he enjoy it or would it kill his love of music?

The thought nearly makes him snort. He's not sure anything could kill his love of music. If his father couldn't beat it out of him, if the years of couch surfing and trying to make ends meet, of busking out of necessity to put food on the table couldn't so much as dull his love of music then surely opening his own school wouldn't kill it.

He'll give it some more thought. In the meantime, he accepts the rolling pin from Geralt again and descends upon the next batch of dough, happily working out his frustration with some butter beating.

Geralt watches him with an amused smirk.

"I think you're enjoying this too much," he comments.

Jaskier whacks the dough again. Gives Geralt a wide grin.

"If I am it's completely your fault. Is there any more and if there is can we shape the dough to look like Valdo's mustache? I think that'll really help me really flatten it..." He gives Geralt a considering look. "Do you really think Valdo is trying to keep me in his clutches by threatening my job?"

Geralt shrugs, reaching for more butter. Jaskier keeps hold of the rolling pin- Geralt hasn't told him to move or taken it back yet so Jaskier stays put. He's having far too much fun hitting things to stop now.

"He sounds like a dick," Geralt says bluntly, shifting Jaskier to the side with a hand on his hip. "And he sounds jealous of your success. Keep doing what you're doing. Do what you want. It's not like he can stop you now." Gold eyes lock onto Jaskier's. "You're good at what you do, Jask. Don't let this asshole tell you otherwise."

The cold fury that's been forming in Jaskier's chest melts into something warm and tender at the words.

"I- thank you, Geralt. That means a lot."

"Hmm." Geralt shrugs, throwing another glare Yennefer's way when she snorts again and mutters something under her breath that sounds a bit too much like "cow-eyed idiots" on her way out the door. "Want to hit some more dough?"

Jaskier's grin is wide and true. He feels like he could do anything right now.

"It really is good for working out frustration. You should seriously consider charging money for that- extra income and you'll have a bunch of dough ready to be formed into croissants. Everybody wins when there are croissants to be had, and yours are truly amazing."

"Sounds like a way for a lot of strangers to come into my kitchen." Geralt shakes his head, laying out more butter. "Only people I like are allowed in here. I don't even let my brothers in. They'd burn the place down."

Jaskier laughs and hefts his rolling pin, losing himself in the act of hitting things and then kneading some dough under Geralt's careful guidance. He winds up covered in flour, the dough sticky between his hands but he feels much lighter than he did when he first arrived, laughter bubbling up from his chest rather than anger.

His croissants come out uneven and slightly flat but perfectly edible, though Geralt refuses to send them to the front to be sold.

"Insult and outrage!" Jaskier cries, biting down on one. "These are perfectly acceptable."

"I don't sell acceptable food, I sell good food."

"Maybe I should whack you with a rolling pin."

Geralt laughs and the warm feeling in Jaskier's chest spreads down to his fingertips when those gold eyes lock with his. And he thinks, not for the first time well, so much for that rule, understanding all too well that he's fallen head over heels for his client, his boss, his student's father and breaking that final rule he's always held himself to: never fall- really fall- for anyone too far out of your league.

Ah, well. He never was any good at following rules anyway.

Chapter Text

The problem with working with people who know you, and know you very well in the case of Yennefer and Triss, both of whom he's known for several years each, is that they know you. Geralt has no secrets even in his own kitchen.

"Geralt when are you going to stop pussyfooting around and ask Jaskier out?"

Yennefer is in his kitchen. Not the bakery kitchen downstairs but the kitchen upstairs in his apartment where Geralt is blearily trying to nurse a cup of coffee in peace. Yennefer is in his kitchen and making demands when it is barely six am and she is entirely too awake and at home in his space.

He can smell something baking from downstairs and knows that Triss is getting a head start on the large cake order due today. Geralt doesn't know a damn thing about cake decorating which is why he's still upstairs taking his time and letting Triss rule over the kitchen space downstairs as she decorates and creates art out of icing and food coloring (do not mention fondant around Triss, just don't do it).

Roach trots over to greet Yennefer, tail wagging, tongue lolling. Yennefer is allowed exactly two minutes of petting before Roach meanders back to the other side of the apartment to guard the bathroom door while Ciri is inside. Geralt can hear her splashing around, shrieking in delight and letting her kraken toy drag her boats to the bottom of the bubble filled tub.

Geralt sighs, taking a long slow drink of his coffee. It's going to be a long day he can already tell.

"It's early," Geralt says.

"You get up at five every day."

Geralt has never been able to glare Yennefer into submission but that doesn't stop him from trying. Still doesn't work.

"Geralt." With a great sigh, Yennefer gets a mug from the cabinet and pours herself a cup of coffee. She knows where everything is and sets about doctoring her coffee to her specifications. Geralt gave up long ago and keeps her preferred brand of creamer on hand to avoid hearing her complain. "You haven't had a date since we were together and that's just sad."

"Sad that we were together?"

"It was a little but I've learned since then."

"Ouch. Why the sudden interest in getting me a date?" Yennefer's never cared one way or the other what he does as long as it doesn't affect her portion of the business- she owns 40% of it after all, being the biggest and only investor and the reason Geralt was able to expand at all.

Plus she handles the music side of it which Geralt is forever grateful for. If she didn't he'd have to handle it and it would take time away from what he actually wants to do: bake. It was even her idea to knock down the wall between what used to be two apartments and turn it into the large space that it is now when they bought the building next door for the expansion.

In the bathroom Ciri roars. Something that sounds suspiciously like water splashing on the floor can be heard. Geralt's glad he sprang for the water absorbing mats that are all over the floor. Saves him a lot of mopping up after bath time.

"Because you're interested." Yennefer folds herself into the chair across from Geralt, sipping on her own drink. "And don't tell me you're not. We were married, I know what you're like when you're interested in someone and no one likes a liar. Jaskier is allowed in the kitchen, allowed to make food with you, you trust him with Ciri, Roach likes him and you can't stop staring at him when you think no one is looking. You've been humming lately. You take your breaks with him, you touch him, you laugh, you both walk Roach together- should I go on?"

Well. Fine, then.

Geralt... can admit he's interested in Jaskier. Jaskier is interesting. He's handsome and charming, Roach and Ciri both love him, he's adept at coaxing a smile out of Geralt. Everything is a laugh to him, he's funny and brightly colored and sees the best in everything. He turns up with glitter and songs to make Ciri laugh. He knew just how to calm Geralt down when he was freaking the fuck out on Ciri's first day of school.

He's not using Ciri to get close to Geralt as some people have tried to do in the past. He genuinely likes Ciri, teaching her music and braiding her hair (with more skill than Geralt can manage, though he is trying to teach Geralt) and chattering with her all through dinner in a way that Geralt knows is just Jaskier. He talks all the time, sings, laughs, dances around. Fills the space around Geralt with music and songs and gets them stuck in Geralt's head.

"I'm interested," Geralt admits somewhat grudgingly. He knows better than to lie to Yennefer and if she's already figured him out then what's the point. "But-"

Yennefer steams right past him. "Great! You should ask him out to dinner when you see him today."

"I've made him dinner," Geralt points out. "A few times."

"Then it'll be easy to go out to dinner with him. For god's sake the man has the biggest damn crush on you and watching the two of you dance around each other is sickening. Man up and kiss the man already."

It- that... Geralt lowers his head into his hand and sighs.

"You're not going to let this go are you."

Yennefer takes a delicate sip of her drink. "Nope. You like him, he likes you. What could go wrong?"

Geralt's bland look is her answer. What could go wrong? Any number of things. He and Yennefer had seemed so well suited for each other in the beginning, but they'd been young and too bad at communicating with each other, having to guess at what the other wanted and then fighting when they got it wrong and having sex rather than actually making up.

They're still friends despite it all. They were friends first but they should have let the relationship burn out rather than getting married to try and save it, or stayed broken up one of the many times they were off again. The divorce was the best thing that ever happened to them- they got their friendship back and emerged on the other side only a little singed.

And now his ex-wife is in his kitchen, drinking his coffee and demanding he go and get himself a boyfriend.

Yennefer tilts her head at him. "Or... are you afraid it'll go right?" she asks, right on the money and entirely too knowingly for Geralt's liking.

This is the problem with surrounding yourself with people that have known you for years: they can see right through you.

"Geralt." Softer now, eyes warm, Yennefer reaches across the table to cover Geralt's hand with hers. "If you and I can survive our disaster of a marriage and our divorce and still be friends, you and Jaskier will be fine going on a date. You're... he's good for you. You're a little more open now and I think that's because of Ciri."

She's not wrong. Raising a child means you have to grow up a lot. Geralt might be in his thirties but he's never been good at emotions. But with Ciri, for Ciri, he's learned. He's still learning. He has to do better, be better for his daughter.

"Plus I think you could stand to get laid."

Geralt snatches his hand back. "I don't think I should take dating advice from my ex-wife."

"If you're smart you will." Unconcerned with Geralt's growl, Yennefer picks up her coffee. "It's one date, Geralt. Go out, have fun, kiss him, see where it goes. You might even enjoy yourself."

Roach's head comes up. Geralt can hear the tub draining and the last thing he wants is for Ciri to overhear this conversation. She'll have opinions as well, he's sure and he's not about to take dating advice from his five year old either.

He stands, gathering the breakfast dishes and piling them in the sink, back deliberately turned to Yennefer.

If he asks Jaskier out he's almost certain Jaskier would say yes. The man is many things but subtle isn't one of them. He's caught Jaskier staring at him more than once. He's pretty sure Jaskier's caught him staring as well but neither of them have moved to cross over that line they both seem to have drawn in the sand.

A date. He hasn't been on a date in years. Yennefer's right: the last time he was with anyone it was her and that was... fuck, over three years ago now. It's been even longer since he was with a man.

Geralt doesn't even remember how to date.

But damn it Yennefer's right. He does like Jaskier, he is interested and now that Yennefer has voiced the possibility it's all he can think about, all those little thoughts he's worked so hard at pushing down, keeping deep inside of himself bubbling up to the surface.

He's got rules about this. He has Ciri to think about. He doesn't have time to date.

But he... he wants Jaskier and it's getting harder and harder to ignore.

"Fuck."

Yennefer smiles. "I'll watch Ciri if you can manage to go before this weekend- overnight even. You're welcome." And serenely finishes her coffee.

Geralt has no idea how to do this.

Does he just ask? Go up to Jaskier and mention going out? Does he bring it up casually? Can he bring it up casually? Words are not his strong suit. He has no idea how to get a date in this day and age. He and Yennefer had just fallen into bed together before starting a long drawn out on-again-off again affair that eventually ended with them trying to fix their relationship by getting married.

Wasn't much dating involved to be be honest. Mostly just failure to communicate, falling into bed together, breaking up, making up, then a marriage that barely lasted six months.

He wants to do better this time around. He's older and he's got to be at least a little bit wiser. But knowing how he and Yennefer went wrong doesn't make him exempt from making the same mistakes again. He could be imagining his and Jaskier's mutual attraction or overstating how well they get along. Geralt isn't exactly the easiest person to get along with and he's well aware of that.

But Jaskier... Jaskier is always around. He likes to plop himself into the folding table in the corner of the kitchen and watch Geralt bake, or compose or chatter at him. He's always down to try and new food experiment or take Roach for a walk if it gets too busy for Geralt to break free in time.

For fuck's sake he can walk Roach without Roach slinking the entire time. That alone tells Geralt everything he needs to know.

And he trusts Jaskier with his daughter. They often disappear upstairs, Roach following them, and then the faint sound of music will trickle down, the apartment door standing open so Geralt can go peek his head in whenever. He usually finds them at the keyboard, laughing and poking each other as they play.

Once he found them sprawled in front of the couch, Ciri's dolls scattered around them and surrounded by her dinosaur collection. Jaskier was happily brushing a doll's hair while Ciri roared and stomped around, her tutu flying up when she tackled Jaskier and declared him "dead by dinosaur".

And Jaskier always smiles at him. Big, bright smiles that light up the entire room just by appearing. He talks to Geralt, teases him, pokes at him, touches him and Geralt's never shaken him off. Never wanted to. Jaskier's never stopped but Geralt knows that if he asked him to, he would.

Geralt doesn't want him to stop.

He wants...

Fuck it. He'll ask Jaskier out today. As soon as he sees him. If nothing else it'll get Yennefer off his back.

Triss grins at him when he comes down, piping bag never pausing as she works her magic on the cake. "Yennefer talk some sense into you?"

"Hmm."

Triss straightens, examining her work with a critical eye. "For what it's worth, I think you two make a lovely couple."

"I haven't even asked him out yet."

Triss waves that away. "You will," she says with the confidence of someone who's known him longer than Ciri's been alive. "He'll say yes, you'll have a lovely time and it'll all go wonderfully well."

Geralt pauses in the act of tying his apron around his waist. "You have a lot of confidence in my ability to actually ask him out. And then actually go on a date with him."

"I've been in this kitchen watching the two of you moon over each other for months now. It'll be fine."

Oddly it's a bit of a confidence boost. Triss is kind but she's never bullshitted Geralt. In fact before he and Yennefer got married she'd quietly taken him aside and asked if he was sure. She supported him either way she'd said but she wanted to tell him it was okay if he didn't want to get married, that it would be fine if he and Yennefer didn't work out. She didn't say the marriage was a mistake- she was far too kind to outright say it- but she knew.

Geralt thinks he and Yennefer knew as well. Deep down they knew but now here they are: friendship intact and stronger than ever. Yennefer is a fantastic aunt to Ciri, a ruthless and smart business partner and she knows Geralt well enough to get him off his ass and into the relationship he so obviously wants (according to literally everyone apparently).

And now he knows that he wants this. He wants to try. Wants to see where it goes.

"He's very cute," Triss says, a sly smirk on her face because she's the worst. "I think you two are well suited for each other."

Geralt is not about to admit to Triss that he thinks Jaskier's cute. Or handsome. She obviously already knows anyway- he supposes that's a perk of being surrounded by people who know him- so there's no need for him to admit it out loud.

Though he is going to have to work out how to say that to Jaskier himself. Eventually. At some point.

They work through the morning, through the lunch rush without pausing, baking and decorating and cooking up a storm. The meat delivery is late which stresses Yennefer out enough that she calls the butcher shop and kindly informs them that if they're late with their order one more time they'll be looking into the competition to take over the account. Geralt leaves her to it, too focused on helping Triss wrap up the cake order.

By which he means he's handing Triss the tools she needs, mixing up the icing and staying as far out of her way as best he can.

Jaskier comes bounding in just before Triss leaves to deliver the order.

He comes barreling into the kitchen and leaps into Geralt's arms. He's lucky Geralt's hands were empty until just now and that the wall is directly behind Geralt, otherwise they would have both gone crashing to the floor.

"My album is doing so well- there are so many downloads- twitter is going crazy and Shani's been blowing up my phone because my students are demanding that Valdo get me back- Hozier retweeted me! He liked my cover of Almost-! "

The words are tumbling out too fast for Geralt to catch all of them but he gets the gist. Feels a surge of pride that Jaskier's hard work is paying off, that his old boss is suffering (he's never met the man but honestly who suspends Jaskier just because they don't like the way he teaches despite the fact that it clearly works) and his music is doing more than well.

He doesn't even think about it. He simply wraps both arms more securely around Jaskier's waist and squeezes him hard, enjoying the feeling of the firm muscles pressed against him, of Jaskier's heart beating against his.

"Congratulations," he manages to get out before Jaskier is leaping away, spinning a circle before scooping up Triss and lifting her into a hug as well.

Triss laughs and hugs him back. Jaskier either hasn't noticed or clearly doesn't mind the sugar dusting the front of Triss's apron.

Roach appears as if summoned, tail whipping around in excitement, caught up in the joy of the moment. She follows Jaskier around the room, tip taping her nails on the floor as she dances in place, ears up, dog grin in place. Jaskier sinks to his knees and hugs her, literally hugs the dog hard enough that her front feet don't touch the floor.

Roach doesn't seem to mind. Her tail wags even harder.

"This is amazing- I never dreamed-!" Jaskier leaps back to his feet, Roach scrambling to follow, her excitement growing as Jaskier's does. "My god I really could do it. I really could open a school or put out another album. Geralt!" Jaskier spins, catching sight of him and launches himself at Geralt again.

At least Geralt's braced for it this time.

"Thank you," Jaskier breathes into his neck. "If your dog hadn't stolen my lunch-"

"Ciri's dog."

"-and your wonderfully scary ex-wife hadn't hired me to perform I don't think this would have happened." Jaskier leans back but doesn't let go of Geralt, hands still fisted in his shirt. Geralt keeps his arm slung low around Jaskier's hips, enjoying himself more than he'd like to admit. "I'm not going back to Marx's school, fuck that. I'm giving a performance in a month at a local theater, a small concert really but everyone starts somewhere and it's such a nice place and I think I want to direct a performance of my students too. I want to teach more people, produce more music, perform more!"

"Perform where?"

"Here, local concerts, the park. Wherever! I can do whatever I want!" Jaskier is practically vibrating. Geralt can barely keep hold of him. His smile and excitement is contagious- Geralt can feel the smile on his own face and even Roach is happy, bouncing up and down on the floor and spinning, tail wagging extra hard with all the excitement.

Triss eyes him hard, gaze sliding to Jaskier and then back to him. She appears to be trying to tell him something with just a subtle movement of her eyebrow.

Geralt's known her long enough to know what she's trying to say: now's your chance.

And it is. It could be. Jaskier's ecstatic, bouncing and grinning, mood high and smile firmly in place. He's quite literally in Geralt's arms and appears to be quite happy there.

"We should... celebrate." The words feel foreign and stiff coming out of his mouth but he's determined to get them out. "I could... take you out to dinner."

Triss slips out the back door silently, a satisfied smile on her face. God bless Triss Merigold. Geralt makes a mental note to give her a raise. Even Roach disappears, heading towards the front to claim her cushion behind the register for her in-the-afternoon-sun nap.

Jaskier's breath hitches. His smile grows impossibly wider. Geralt's heart gives one good thump.

"I'd- yes, of course, I'd love-"

"A date," Geralt blurts out. "I'm asking you on a date."

He doesn't want any chance of a misunderstanding here. He's taking Jaskier out to celebrate his album success, to toast his future decided career but this is going to just be the two of them. A proper meal, a table that doesn't have mac and cheese on it, no dog begging for scraps and snoring under their feet while a five year old bounces in her seat and demands an after dinner piano lesson.

Just them. Just Geralt and Jaskier and the possibility of them becoming them known and real.

Jaskier's hands slide up from Geralt's shoulders to cup his face, thumbs catching a bit on the stubble along his jaw.

Geralt's heart is pounding in his chest. Everything around them just falls away until it's just them, until there's nothing but Jaskier's hands on his face, the feeling of Jaskier in his arms and the awareness that he's never wanted anything more in his life.

"I'd like that," Jaskier breathes, suddenly quiet but no less happy. His face is right there and it's so easy for Geralt to tip his head forward to rest their foreheads together. "I would really, really like that."

Fuck, at this rate he's probably going to have to give Yennefer a raise too. He'll settle for telling her she was right and letting her gloat all over him- which she would do anyways.

Geralt feels himself smiling. "Good."

Jaskier huffs out a laugh, eyes sliding closed. "I was sure I was- that this was one sided."

"It's not."

"Well I would hope not. You don't ask out someone you're not attracted to after all- at least, I would assume you don't. I actually didn't think you asked people out at all." Blue eyes open again and stare right into Geralt's. "Yennefer told me to man up and ask you out. I told her I was too chickenshit because you're so obviously out of my league."

He's going to kill Yennefer for all her damn meddling. Later. After she babysits Ciri and he and Jaskier go on a date. The first date he's been on in literal years.

"Been a while since I've... dated," Geralt warns Jaskier, finding the strength to step back now even as he keeps a hand on Jaskier's waist. "I'm out of practice."

Jaskier just beams at him. "Oh don't worry darling. I'll get you up to speed in no time. What were you thinking?"

Fuck, is he supposed to plan shit? He's no good at planning things. His plan had gotten as far as ask Jaskier out and he'd only started working on it this morning after Yennefer ambushed him. He hasn't had time to work out the details.

He probably should have worked out the details before asking him out. He really is out of practice.

Jaskier's eyes are dancing. His smile is too knowing. How does he just know Geralt so well?

"Maybe dinner at that nice sushi place over on Grand Street?" he suggests, taking Geralt's hand in his and linking their fingers. "Then a stroll through the park and then we'll see how it goes?"

He likes sushi. He likes the feeling of Jaskier's hand in his.

Relieved, grateful that Jaskier isn't put off by his mild panic and wrong footedness, Geralt gives Jaskier's hand a squeeze.

"Okay." Should he wait to kiss Jaskier on their date? Should he kiss him now? Would that be allowed? "Wednesday? I'm off Thursday morning."

Jaskier leans in, pressing a quick kiss to his cheek. "Wednesday it is. I can't wait."

Neither can he.

The soft moment pops like a bubble when Roach slinks back into the kitchen, tail between her legs and a low growl in her throat. Both Geralt and Jaskier blink down at her.

"Roach?"

Geralt frowns, watching the dog slink over and attempt to bury herself in Jaskier's leg. "I've never heard her growl before. Ever."

Roach whines, pawing at Jaskier's maroon pants. When the door swings open she growls low again, moving to stand between them and the door.

Renfri slides into the kitchen quickly, keeping her foot on the swinging door to avoid it opening more than an inch. "Jaskier." Her voice is level, her face the picture of calm. Too calm. Instantly Geralt's hackles rise. "There's a man here asking for you- calling you Julian. Yennefer's keeping him distracted but he's determined."

At Geralt's side, Jaskier freezes. In his hand, Jaskier's fingers begin to tremble.

"He says he's your father."

And Geralt watches every drop of color drain from Jaskier's face.

"I... w-what? But..."

Geralt's seen this kind of reaction before. Something cold and hard settles in his gut at seeing Jaskier's bright eyes go dull, watching his smile slide from his lips. The happiness that was so thick in the air before is gone and there's only cold, stark terror left in its place.

Jaskier who is so full of joy and life, who always smiles and laughs, humming music or strumming a new song. And now he's still and quiet and pale and afraid. Jaskier is afraid of the man outside and Geralt will do anything to fix it.

As someone who actually has an asshole for a father...

"Jaskier." Geralt squeezes Jaskier's hand carefully, a firm pressure to keep the other man grounded. "Jaskier, hey, look at me." Geralt waits until Jaskier takes a breath, his skin pale and clammy under Geralt's fingers. "Do you want me to get rid of him?"

"Yes. Please. I haven't... I-I don't want to see him. I don't want him here."

Geralt will do anything if it gets that shocked, terrified, shattered look off Jaskier's face.

"All right. Take Roach upstairs. I'm right behind you." He doesn't even think about it, just presses a quick kiss to Jaskier's forehead, a touch of skin on skin and squeezes his hand once more. "He won't touch you," he promises, lips brushing Jaskier's skin. "You're safe."

It pains him to release Jaskier, to watch him walk upstairs with Roach and then turn his back. Everything in him is screaming at him to go with him, to tuck Jaskier under a blanket and hold him until the color comes back into his cheeks.

But he's not letting the man that put that look on Jaskier's face anywhere near him.

"Let's go," he growls at Renfri. She looks about as murderous as he feels.

"Don't you know who I am?" a man is demanding of an unimpressed looking Yennefer. "Franklin Pankratz- Julian is my son. I could buy and sell you in an instant!"

Yennefer examines her nails, seemingly bored. "I don't know anyone by that name. You've got the wrong place and I suggest you move on before we move you ourselves," she says in her most venomous voice.

Geralt doesn't wait to hear any more. The few patrons hanging around in the after lunch lull are watching out of idle curiosity more than anything. A few are muttering under their breath and rolling their eyes. Most are keeping their heads down and attempting to ignore the middle aged white man who's not-quite yelling.

He grabs a fistful of Franklin Pankratz's shirt and hauls him up to his tip toes.

"It's time you leave my establishment," Geralt growls, physically dragging the man towards the door. He has no trouble literally throwing him out, uncaring of when he stumbles and has to catch himself on the garbage can. "If I ever see you in here again, I'll have you arrested for trespassing. Get the fuck out."

Franklin sputters, staggering upright. "You can't do this!" he shrieks, kicking the garbage can over. His face is alarmingly red. "I'll sue you! I'll own you and this place when I'm done. You can't keep my son from me- Julian! Julian be a fucking man for once in your miserable life and talk to your fath-" Franklin abruptly goes pale when Geralt snarls and stalks forward, hands clenched into fists. He staggers back two full steps and trips over the overturned trash can, landing in a puddle of old mocha.

"There is no Julian here," Geralt growls through his clenched teeth. He doesn't want this to turn into a fight but he's fully prepared to take a swing if it comes to that. He's not letting this man anywhere near Jaskier. "Leave. Now. "

Franklin gets his feet under him and practically runs to his car- a fancy, sleek black sporty number. He's shouting the entire time about suing, about owning this place and having Geralt thrown in jail but Geralt can practically smell the fear oozing off him. He watches the car peel out of the parking lot, tires spinning and makes note of the license plate just in case.

When the car is completely out of sight he turns and stalks back inside.

"What happened?" he demands of Yennefer.

Yennefer scowls. "He came in demanding to speak to Julian. Told him I didn't know who that was and he just started right in with the don't you know who I am bullshit. Fucking asshole. Wasn't about to let him near Jaskier."

"I hate people like that," Renfri snarls, practically slamming the blender back onto the stand. "Uppity rich bastards who think their money should let them act however they want. Watching you literally toss him on his ass was great though. Wish I'd gotten it on video."

Geralt yanks on his apron ties, bunching it up and tossing it in the corner.

"I-"

"Go," Yennefer says, waving him away. She knows, of course she knows. "We can handle the dinner crowd. I'll go get Ciri from school."

"Knew he was a bastard the second he walked in here," Renfri mutters. "Roach growled at him. I've never even heard her so much as bark before and she fucking growled. "

Geralt takes the steps two at a time, making sure to lock the door behind him in hopes that it'll help Jaskier feel a little bit safer. What else can he do? What else is there to do?

He finds Jaskier standing stock still in the middle of the living room, Roach pressed as tightly as she can against his leg. Jaskier's hand is resting on her head but not moving. Geralt can see him trembling from here.

"Jaskier." He takes care to telegraph his moves and keep his voice low. "He's gone."

The affect is immediate, the tension leaking out of Jaskier's body. His shoulders come down with the shaky breath he releases.

"I-" he starts. Stops. Breathes. "I'm so-"

"Don't apologize," Geralt hurries to interrupt him, crossing the room and placing a careful hand on his shoulder. "Don't you dare. He's gone and he's not coming back." Or if he does, Geralt's siccing Yennefer and Renfri both on him.

Jaskier all but melts into Geralt's touch, turning to sink into his arms, face buried in Geralt's shoulder. Geralt wraps both arms around him tight and just breathes him in, just holds him and lets Jaskier shake and breathe, fingers clenched in Geralt's shirt.

"Fuck," Jaskier hiccups out. He sniffles. "Thank you."

"I've got you," Geralt promises him, burying his nose in Jaskier's hair. "You're safe here."

Roach whines low in her chest and wedges her head between their legs, tail thumping once on the floor.

"Good girl," Geralt murmurs. Roach whines and snuffles, shifting closer until she's wedged between them, squashed flat in a way that shouldn't be possible.

Jaskier manages a wet laugh. "The best girl. Fierce protector." When he looks up his eyes are shiny but his cheeks are dry. He even manages a weak smile but he doesn't let go of Geralt. "My fierce protectors."

Geralt tightens his grip, shuffling them backwards so they can collapse onto the couch in a tangle, the dog still squashed between them. Jaskier's head winds up on Geralt's chest, his arms thrown around Geralt's middle and Geralt just holds him.

They stay like that, just holding each other and breathing, running soothing hands over each other, assuring themselves that the other is still there for a long, long time.

Chapter Text

Jaskier wakes on Geralt's couch and immediately comes face to face with a panting Roach, a string of drool dripping from her mouth and dangerously close to landing on his shirt.

"Well." Jaskier yawns and reaches out from under the blanket that’s appeared over him to pat the happy pit bull on her head. "Good morning to you too."

Ciri- looking absolutely adorable in her red dinosaur hoodie and a lime green skirt decorated with smiley faces, her hair clipped back from her face with clips shaped like butterflies but falling loose and free down her back- skips over, her bare feet making no noise on the hardwood as she moves.

"Good morning, Jaskier!"

"Let him sleep, Ciri," floats Geralt's voice from the kitchen. "And put your shoes on- we're going to be late."

Ciri pouts at him in the most adorable way. Roach pants in his face, doggy breath waking him up much faster than any coffee ever could.

"He's already awake," Ciri protests, zipping up her hoodie. "I wanna wear my pink Mary Janes today, Dad."

Geralt's head appears from around the corner. He hasn't put his hair up yet, the strands hanging just past his shoulders. "Then wear them."

"I can't find them."

"Check behind the couch."

Jaskier sits up, dislodging the lounging dog. Roach grumbles and arranges herself to sit beside him rather than on him, pinning him in place. Ciri huffs out a sigh and with an eye roll worthy of a teenager, drops to the ground to crawl behind the couch.

"Da-ad, Roach dragged the remote back here again!"

"Pull it out when you come out then." Geralt gathers his hair up in his hand, hastily tying it back into a half-hazard bun while stepping into his own shoes. "I have to get her to school," he says to Jaskier, bending to tie the laces on his boots. "The one time we wake up late and she can't find her shoes."

Jaskier yawns again, barely awake even with the muted chaos happening around him and the dog vying for his attention. Roach leans her head against his hip and aims those sorrowful eyes at him, tail thumping on the cushion. He can't not pet her when she looks at him like that and he's pretty sure she knows that.

Ciri's head pops up from behind the couch. She's got a dust bunny clinging to her hair and is now missing one of her butterfly clips.

"No shoes," she announces. "Just a lot of sticks. And some of your shoes, Dad."

Geralt frowns, backtracking into the kitchen. "Not by the door either. Are you sure you checked in your room?"

"Yes," Ciri says, entirely unconvincingly. Jaskier reaches over and pulls the dust bunny free from her hair. Roach sneezes directly onto his hand then whines, headbutting his arm when he stops petting her.

"Check again. If you can't find them then wear another pair."

"But I want my pink ones," Ciri complains, wiggling back out. She drops the remote on the coffee table as she passes it, throwing Jaskier a wounded look. "They're my favorite."

"I thought your galoshes were your favorite shoes."

"They're my favorite rainy shoes. It's not raining. I need my pink ones."

Knowing better than to get involved with the fashion choices of a five year old, Jaskier attempts to dislodge the melted-against-him Roach and stands up to help. Roach gives him a wounded look much like Ciri's and hops down, following Ciri into her room without looking back.

"I see something pink under the tv stand," Jaskier offers, kneeling to reach for it.

Geralt appears, keys in hand and exasperated look firmly in place. "How did they get under there?"

"I'm assuming Roach had something to do with it."

Geralt sighs. "Probably. Ciri, come on Princess, let's go."

Ciri slides into the room on now-socked feet (purple with stripes and green and orange polka dots on the left and right feet respectively) and snatches the shoes up with a squeal. Roach comes barreling into the room a minute later and skids across the hardwood, bumping into the wall when she fails to stop in time.

Shoes found and put on, Ciri grabs her backpack and then stalls further by insisting on hugging Roach goodbye, then Jaskier, then Roach again, who knows what's happening and whines. "Did you sign my homework form?" she asks Geralt as they move towards the stairs.

Geralt pauses, clearly trying to remember. "I think so. If not I'll do it in the car. Come on, we have to leave right now. "

"Bye Jaskier! Bye Roach!"

Jaskier manages a wave, still trying to wake up. "Have a good day," he calls as the dog lets out another low whine.

Geralt pauses at the door, glancing back. "I won't be long."

You can stay he's saying. Jaskier's never been in Geralt's apartment without at least Ciri to keep him company but he doesn't feel up to going home just yet. So he stays, making himself a cup of coffee from the pot Geralt left, thrilling Roach by playing tug of war with the rope she hopefully drops at his feet as he drinks.

She doesn't whine as much when Ciri leaves now. She still mopes and waits for her human to come home but that usually doesn't come until later in the afternoon and she's clearly happy to have someone in the apartment with her. She follows Jaskier from room to room, tail wagging and various toys dangling from her mouth as Jaskier does his best to clear the sleepy cobwebs from his mind.

At one point Roach disappears into Ciri's room and comes back out with a silver shoe.

"What are you doing with that?"

Roach wags her tail and keeps her silence, disappearing behind the couch with her prize.

"Geralt will be thrilled to know you are the one responsible for the shoe theft," Jaskier tells the dog. His only answer is the sound of a tail thumping against the wall. "I really hope you're not eating it." He peeks over the back of the couch to check. "Just drooling on it? That's all right then. Enjoy."

Jaskier pauses, cup halfway to his mouth before the image solidifies in his mind. He turns back around, arm digging in the space between the couch and the wall, head mashed uncomfortably against said wall before he manages to grab the item and pull it back up.

"This is my shoe," he says incredulously. "Why did you drag my shoe back there?" The bright blue converse doesn't seem to be any worse for wear- save for a small damp spot near the toe. Baffled, Jaskier drops the shoe next to its mate (after checking to make sure the other shoe is still there where he left it last night) and goes back to his coffee.

It's not as good as the drinks Renfri makes even after he steals some of Yennefer's creamer. He toys with the idea of going downstairs and getting one of her heavenly blended coffee drinks but refrains. He knows how it'll look, him coming downstairs in the clothes he wore yesterday, obviously still waking up and he doesn't want to have to explain quite yet.

He hadn't wanted to be alone after yesterday and Geralt never brought up him going home so he simply didn't.

Geralt- the sweet man- held him until he stopped shaking. He didn't ask any questions, he didn't comment, he didn't probe. He just sat there, Jaskier against him, running his hand up and down Jaskier's back. When Yennefer arrived with Ciri in tow Roach scrambled away from their pile in pure bliss to greet her human with desperate licks and happy wiggles, hitting Yennefer in the leg with her tail.

Yennefer said nothing about Jaskier having to remove himself from Geralt's side. She didn't mention his father either, merely declared she was heading out, that Geralt needed more of her brand of creamer soon and left in a swirl of skirts, calling a goodbye to Ciri as she went.

Geralt made dinner. Jaskier ate it. He listened to Ciri talk about her day, went with her and Geralt on Roach's evening walk, then settled down on the couch with Ciri beside him so they could watch Encanto, Ciri singing along with every song perfectly. At some point between the movie and Geralt wrestling Ciri into the tub to clean the mud off her, Jaskier fell asleep.

Yesterday was... well, actually if he discards his father from the equation yesterday wasn't too bad. He'd even go as far to say yesterday was a good day given everything else that fell into place: a concert scheduled, his debut album selling much better than he'd dreamed, Geralt Rivia asking him out on a date. Jaskier pinches himself to make sure he's not dreaming.

But he does have to factor his father in. And the fact that Yennefer and Renfri (and probably by now Triss) know his father is a certified asshole. Geralt probably even knows the specific kind of asshole Jaskier's father really is which just...

He's never spoken about his father to anyone. Not ever, not even when he got out. It's a shameful secret he's carried around his entire life, something he buried and left behind him when he ran. He knew it would catch up with him someday but he always figured he'd slip and say more than he meant to to someone.

He never figured his father would make the five hour drive from his cushy home- where he still lives, Jaskier's kept enough of an eye on his father to know where he's been for the past thirteen years- and track Jaskier down at his place of employment. Clearly that had been a miscalculation on his part, but what on earth had driven his father to make the drive after all this time? How did he even find out where Jaskier lives-?

Oh. Oh fuck, he's an idiot. His damn Instagram account where he posts his music and clips of his students playing. That profile is public, open for all to see. He's given many shoutouts to The Witchery for fuck's sake, of course his father was able to track him down that way. He posted a video two days ago of him singing Iris onstage that The Goo Goo Dolls official fan page reposted and tagged him in, the sign for The Witchery in clear view.

"Fuck," he sighs, burying his face in his hands.

Jaskier's never even thought to hide that profile, or block his father. Even if his father has an account of his own that Jaskier knew about and could block there are other ways for him to have seen. The video of Roach stealing his lunch still goes around even now, months after it all happened. It was shared on a huge animal loving account not too long ago and Jaskier was tagged. The cafe had gotten a surge of business after, people coming in to ask "is this the cafe with that cute pit bull?" for weeks.

It had annoyed Geralt to no end. Roach stayed upstairs for days, hiding away and only appearing in the kitchen when Ciri was downstairs or Jaskier was there- and she stayed plastered to Geralt's side the entire time, refusing to look at anyone until the crowd in the dining area died down.

The price of fame, he supposes. People will know where he is even if he doesn't want them to.

What the fuck does Franklin even want? Jaskier hasn't seen the man since he was a teenager and it's suited them both just fine until now. What could have possibly possessed him to track Jaskier down after all this time? His album? The online videos? The knowledge that his son is not just surviving but thriving without him?

Whatever it is, Jaskier doesn't care. He doesn't want to know, wants nothing to do with it. He had thought the past thirteen years of silence would have been a major hint but guess not.

Whatever Franklin came down for he's not going to get it. Jaskier wants no more to do with him today than he did yesterday or the day before that. The year before that. The decade before that. He's built an entire life without his father and he's not about to allow the man to show up and ruin it all right as it starts to get good.

Jaskier has an album out. His music is getting noticed. He might be about to get himself a relationship that could really go somewhere, be something amazing. His father isn't allowed to ruin that.

Roach wiggles out from her stick and shoe nest and races to the door, sitting sweetly when Geralt comes back.

"Thank you. For yesterday."

Geralt kneels to greet Roach, barely glancing at Jaskier. "No need to thank me."

"I entirely disagree with you. So I'm going to say it again and you're just going to have to take it: thank you."

"Hmm." Geralt rubs Roach until she's wiggling all over, mouth open in that grin she does when she's really happy. She leans until she simply falls onto her side, legs coming up so Geralt can rub her belly. "Your father's an asshole."

"Oh, I'm aware," Jaskier assures him, leaning against the doorjamb to watch Roach wiggle in pure joy on the floor. "He's always been like that. And he's always hated me so I'm not sure why he even showed up yesterday. I haven't seen him since I was seventeen."

Geralt pats Roach twice and stands. "Sounds like a story."

"It's not a particularly good one. Or I suppose it could be a good story, it's just not a very happy one at the start." Jaskier pauses, tilting his head. "Though if anyone would understand it I'm guessing it would be you."

You don't grow up in the foster care system because you had a good start to life. Geralt's mentioned his foster father a few times, his brothers and the home they all grew up in together. He's never said how he wound up in the system and Jaskier's never asked. He understands all too well how bad a bad home life can be and he's just glad that Geralt wound up someplace safe eventually.

"That bad?"

Jaskier's gaze drops to the floor. Roach pads over and head bumps his knee. "I don't know how bad things were for you before Vesemir so I'm not even going to pretend to compare, but. Yeah. Pretty bad."

Geralt seems to consider this as he washes his hands. "Things weren't bad before Vesemir. At least, I didn't think they were but I was young." He turns to grab a dishtowel off the counter, tucking in his waistband when his hands are dry. "I don't know who my biological father was. My mother never told me. She left me." Geralt says it so simply it takes a moment for the words to register. Jaskier can hear the old pain behind them, the wound scarred over but still there. "She took me to the park to play and just walked off. She never came back. I was seven. I never saw her again."

They're such empty, clichéd words but they beg to be said. "I'm sorry. That's... a fucking awful thing to do to a child to be honest."

"Yeah. But I was one of the lucky ones." Jaskier settles at the table and watches as Geralt gathers flour, sugar, salt and more frozen butter, dumping it all on the counter. He gets out a large bowl and some measuring cups before turning to dig in the fridge. "Vesemir was my first and only home after a couple of bad nights in a halfway house. When I aged out he asked if I wanted to look for my mother. He said he could either hire a PI or pay for a semester of college. I said neither and eventually went to cooking school instead."

"Eventually?"

"Detoured through a bad part of my life first." Geralt shrugs but there's weight behind the movement. "Typical rebellion. Fell in with some bad people, got out before I made any life-altering mistakes. Vesemir put me through a semester of cooking school and I got my life back on track."

Geralt comes up with a carton of buttermilk. He checks the date on it and sets it to the side then reaches for the eggs.

"Never did look for her," he says, glancing at Jaskier over his shoulder. "I thought about it when I graduated pastry school, then again when I opened The Witchery. Almost did hire a PI when Yen and I were married- she knew a guy."

Yennefer always knows a guy. It's a little scary how much she can get done from her phone at any given moment. It's why she's always attached to it: she's busy plotting world domination and she's starting with whoever is on the other end of the line.

If anyone could manage to take over the world from a bakery kitchen, it would be Yennefer.

"And now?" Jaskier can't help but ask.

"Now it doesn't matter why she did it. She left and I have a life that doesn't involve her. And after getting Ciri... I can't imagine doing something like that. Just leaving her somewhere and never coming back." With a disgusted shake of his head, Geralt scoops the flour and various powders into a bowl with careful and precise movements. "I'll always wonder how she could do that but whatever the answer... it doesn't matter."

"Because she still left you," Jaskier finishes for him, a sad smile on his face. "Whatever the reason, no matter how good, how justified she thinks it is your mother left you and never looked back."

It's not the kind of hurt that just goes away no matter how long it's been.

Geralt picks up a cheese grater of all things and Jaskier can't hold his curiosity back any longer.

"What are you making?"

"You'll see."

"Are you... are you grating the butter into the bowl? Why?"

"You'll see," Geralt repeats, continuing to grate the butter with blinding speed. If Jaskier tried to grate anything that fast he'd grate the skin right off his hand. That done, he sticks his hand into the bowl and begins mixing with his fingers.

Roach grabs one of Geralt's boots and disappears into the living room with it, looking enormously pleased with herself.

Jaskier watches her go. "I know why my mother left," he says softly, watching Roach wiggle her way behind the couch with the boot dangling from her mouth. "Even at ten I knew. Leaving my father was the best thing for her. I just never understood why she didn't take me with her. Surely if she was allowed to escape then so was I. But she left me there- she left me there with him and she never came back."

Waking up to find your mother gone one day is a lot for a ten year old to handle. It's even more to handle when your father takes his fury out on you, sure that you knew it would happen and demanding you give him information that you just don't have.

Jaskier had been just as shocked to find his mother gone. He heard a few rumors after she left: people gossiping behind their hands, the maids when they chattered, from his father when he was drunk enough for his tongue to loosen. She'd run off with another man, served his father with divorce papers just before their anniversary. She remarried, moved to Europe. Last he heard she has three step-children, worked at some fancy clothing boutique and hosted large brunch parties.

She's never reached out to him. He's not sure he wants her to. What could she even say after twenty years of silence? What would he say? Nothing good, he's sure. Probably things he'd regret saying later. Or maybe he wouldn't, who knows.

She left. And he has a life that doesn't involve her, just like she has one that doesn't involve him.

Geralt sticks the bowl in the freezer for reasons unknown to Jaskier, then turns to wash his hands again. Whatever he's making Jaskier hopes he gets to taste it. His stomach is already growling, reminding him he hasn't had breakfast yet.

The buttermilk is lifted in a sarcastic toast. "To shitty parents. May we never become them."

Jaskier stands and goes to the coffee pot, refilling his cup before raising in a salute.

"I left when I was seventeen," he says almost idly. Like he's commenting on the weather. It's surprisingly easy to get the words out. "Didn't even finish high school. My father had always had a temper but it got worse when as I got older. After my mother left it- it got very bad. I woke up in the hospital a few times. Apparently I was a... very clumsy kid."

Geralt stops whisking.

"Then I 'fell down the stairs' after he'd had a few too many. Took myself to the hospital that time. Stole his keys and drove myself to the ER. Stopped at an ATM on my way to pull out as much cash as I could. I think I knew I wasn't going home ever again." Jaskier lifts his head and finds Geralt's eyes right on him. "I got patched up, snuck out before he arrived- to get his car back and spin his bullshit. Used the cash to buy a bus ticket and got as far away as I could with the few hundred dollars I swiped from his account. Never looked back."

He slept on couches and in dirty motels for weeks, doing odd jobs for cash until he scraped up enough money to buy his first beat-up guitar. His first day of busking earned him almost enough for food and the motel room rent in just a few hours. The next day he got even more. Eventually he landed in the city, guitar on his back and case open for tips. He changed his name legally, got certified to teach, got a job at a small place that closed down, picked up a few of his own students, busked his way into a reputation then made his way to Valdo's.

And now he's here. Not a bad way for things to turn out, all things considered.

Geralt growls into the bowl where several liquids are being mixed very viciously. "Knew I should have punched that asshole."

"Oh, that would have been a big mess- he's not above suing just for the hell of it and he's got a lot of lawyers- but I would have paid money to see him get knocked on his ass." Because he wants to, and a little because he needs the touch, Jaskier leans in to peck Geralt on the cheek as he passes. Geralt hums and leans into it, mouth twitching despite the scowl that's firmly in place.

"I don't even know why he came here, or what he wants. And I've decided I don't care. Whatever it is, he can choke on it and I don't care if that's an unhealthy attitude to have. I'm not even going to speak to him; if he shows up again I'm getting a restraining order. He's not welcome in the life I've built without him- and I certainly don't want even the slightest possibility of him coming around Ciri."

Yennefer's already sent him a few text messages asking if he wants to go to the police station later and file a report. Jaskier's very unsurprised to learn that she knows a detective willing to help out- and he's touched by her offer to go with him.

No one's judging him or making decisions for him. Geralt asked if he wanted Franklin gone then removed him, let him stay the night without a word and made him feel safe. Yennefer wants to know if he wants company if he decides to file a report to help with a future restraining order should he get one. He's pretty sure he’s going to take her up on the offer.

It'll suck to drag all that hurt up again but the more distance Jaskier can put between his father and Ciri the better. He'll do whatever it takes to protect her.

"I think it's a perfectly acceptable attitude to have." Geralt grips the whisk so hard Jaskier thinks it might snap. "And if he shows up again I'll make him regret it. Fuck him. Hand me those blueberries."

Jaskier steals a handful before handing them over, popping the sweet berries into his mouth and grinning when Geralt huffs at him. He feels better after telling Geralt about his past, not shamed or embarrassed. It feels like a weight that's been hanging over his head is... not gone but lighter now. If anyone should be embarrassed it's Franklin. What does Jaskier have to be embarrassed about, his father's shitty attitude? The fact that he's an asshole? That has nothing to do with him. That's all on Franklin.

Jaskier has a life to live. A date to go on. Music lessons to give. Music to create.

There's no place for Franklin in any of that. So Jaskier isn't going to give him any more thought. He's taken up enough of Jaskier's time and he has more important things to focus on. Like swiping more fruit from under Geralt's nose.

"I can't put them in the mix if you eat all of them," Geralt grumbles, moving the blueberries out of Jaskier's reach.

"I'm still not even sure what you're making. Yes, yes, I'll see." Jaskier watches Geralt get the dry ingredients out of the freezer and then mix in the wet, then the blueberries. "It looks very complicated and involved. And very tasty already."

"You don't even know what it is yet."

"Doesn't matter. You baked it so I bet it will be good. I've never eaten anything of yours that I don't like. That soda bread stuff is amazing, your danishes are to die for, honestly Geralt I've had to start going to the gym much more often since I started hanging around you." He wags a finger in Geralt's face, tutting. "You're bad for my waistline."

"Your waistline is fine." Geralt eyes him, smirking when Jaskier flushes under his gaze. He lingers a bit around Jaskier's chest before going back to his dough. "You know your waistline is fine."

He does know that but it's nice to hear. It's even nicer to hear it from such an utter specimen such as Geralt. He grins, pleased and hops up to sit on the counter knowing it annoys Geralt to no end.

Predictably Geralt glares at him but Jaskier stays where he is, perched within an easy reach of the coffee pot and watching as Geralt pours the dough onto the island and begins to work it into a ball. Now that he's allowed, Jaskier is blatantly staring at Geralt's arms and remembers the feeling of having them around him.

It's not until Geralt begins cutting the dough into triangle shapes and laying them on the pan that Jaskier realizes what he's making.

"Are you making scones?" He straightens, nearly hitting his head on the cabinet. "You hate making scones. You don't even sell them downstairs."

Geralt shrugs and says nothing. He takes the tray, lined with the most perfect looking scone dough triangles that Jaskier's ever seen, and puts it in the fridge, setting a timer on his phone before doubling back and turning the oven on to preheat.

"You like them." It's so quiet Jaskier almost misses it.

Geralt says nothing more than that but Jaskier hears him loud and clear over his heart pounding in his ears. He sets his coffee down with deliberate care, never taking his eyes off the other man. "Geralt." He swallows. "Come here."

Geralt goes, stepping right between Jaskier's legs and tipping his face up. Jaskier does what he's longed to do since he laid eyes on Geralt and tangles his fingers through all that glorious hair, tugging slightly. Geralt hums and presses closer, his hands coming up to cover Jaskier's hips and tug him to the edge of the counter.

Jaskier has the pleasure of watching Geralt's pupils dilate before he leans down and slants their mouths together.

This man. This grumpy, gruff, sweet, amazing man is making him scones. For no other reason but to cheer Jaskier up. He remembered Jaskier mentioning (once, months ago) that he likes scones- blueberry ones specifically. He held Jaskier, let him stay the night. He didn't press for details or demand answers. He shared something of himself and let Jaskier stay. He lets Jaskier into his kitchen, lets Jaskier play music with his daughter, lets Jaskier annoy him and listens when Jaskier talks, when he sings.

And he kisses back now, hungrily surging up to take Jaskier's bottom lip in his mouth, nipping lightly with his teeth. He groans into the kiss, working his arm around Jaskier's hips fully and nearly pulling him right off the counter. Jaskier gasps, lets out a breathless laugh and dives back in.

Geralt tastes like sugar, a hint of flour and coffee on his tongue when it dips into his mouth. Jaskier swallows it down greedily and tries not to whimper when Geralt's hand gets under Jaskier's knee and hikes it up around his waist.

"Fuck," he blurts out, yanking back to catch his breath. "Holy shit, don't stop."

Geralt's already hauling him back down for more, mouth more firm and sure on his. He growls deep in his chest, a delightfully wonderful sound when Jaskier yanks on his hair and makes it spill out of its bun. Jaskier bites at his mouth, tongue darting out to soothe before diving in for a full taste.

"You make it very hard to follow my rules," Jaskier pants, sucking in a desperate gulp of air. He grips Geralt's hair like a lifeline, tilting his head back to grant Geralt more access.

Mouth busy at Jaskier's neck Geralt makes an inquiring hum but doesn't stop his exploration.

"I- ah - don't sleep with my students or their- oh fuck - parents or-or my boss."

Geralt pulls back, an amused look on his face.

"Never figured you for a rule follower."

"There's a first time for everything."

Geralt hums and kisses him again, softer kisses that soothe the raging fire of lust currently coursing through him. He untangles his fingers from Geralt's hair, smoothing his digits through the strands instead. Geralt nearly purrs from the motion, pressing a final kiss to Jaskier's mouth before he steps away to deal with the beeping timer.

"Scones," he says. He sounds like he's reminding them both.

Jaskier lets out a shaky breath that ends in a laugh. "Yes, right. Scones. I love scones. I can't believe you're making me some after all the fuss you make about hating making them. You really are sweet you know."

"Am not."

Into the oven they go, another timer set and then Geralt is back, lifting Jaskier off the counter and setting him on his feet. It's entirely too hot, feeling Geralt effortlessly lift him into the air without so much as a grunt. He doesn't remove his arms from Jaskier's waist.

Jaskier twines his arms around Geralt's neck. "How long do scones take to cook?" he asks innocently, tilting his head and batting his lashes.

Geralt's arms tighten. He's seen those arms lift his daughter, work dough, cut butter, wrestle and pet his dog and now they're around Jaskier and clinging tight, keeping him close and showing no intention of letting him go. "This oven? Twenty minutes."

Jaskier leans in until their mouths are just barely brushing. "Oh good," he breathes. "We have some time. We can chat a bit more, or get started on these dishes. I know you hate when-" Jaskier is cut off with a searing kiss, one he feels all the way down to his toes and returns with just as much fire.

"Fuck," Geralt snaps, yanking himself away when the timer blares twenty minutes later. "You and your fucking scones-!"

Jaskier just laughs, kissing the grumpy baker on the cheek and grabbing some plates.

"They're a little overdone," Geralt grumps when they cool, deliberately keeping his gaze away from Jaskier who's left his shirt unbuttoned.

Geralt's the one that unbuttoned it halfway to get his hands and mouth under the fabric. He can deal with the sight of Jaskier's chest on display while they eat. He does pull his own shirt back into place though, which is a damn shame. The sight of Geralt's chest alone is going to fuel Jaskier's fantasies for the next month.

"I'm sure they're delicious darling." Jaskier kisses him on the cheek, then his temple, then his mouth. "Thank you."

Geralt hums, biting into his scone and chewing thoughtfully. His hair is a mess around his shoulders, poofy and tangled where Jaskier had his fingers buried. "Not bad. Would be better if I didn't have a walking distraction in the kitchen with me."

"Walking- excuse me, you're the one that started it. I was just sitting there, minding my own business, drinking coffee. If anyone is the walking distracting it's you- have you ever seen yourself cook? It's like porn, Geralt. Baking porn. If there was a window into the kitchen downstairs the counter seats would always be taken, full of people that are all just there to stare at you and your bloated biceps."

"How does one see themselves cook?" Geralt wants to know polishing off his scone in two bites. His eyes are glued to the unbuttoned section of Jaskier's shirt.

"I'm going to record you kneading dough one of theses days and put it online," Jaskier vows. If he stretches just right his shirt will gap just a bit more, giving Geralt even more of a view. "See if I don't."

"Don't make me ban you from the kitchen."

Jaskier fiddles with a button, grinning as he undoes it. "You wouldn't dare."

Geralt leans over to kiss him slow and steady, rocking Jaskier back on his heels and knocking the breath from his lungs. He tingles all the way down to his fingertips when Geralt kisses him, when he holds him close like this and keeps Jaskier pressed up against him.

"Try me," Geralt murmurs against his mouth before diving in for more.

Chapter Text

Triss looks exasperated when she arrives at work, which is not her usual expression. Her arms are full of sketchbooks and paper, her brows lowered, mouth pinched as she examines the sketches.

"Geralt. Do you know what your daughter wants on her birthday cake?" she demands, dropping her sketch pad onto the table. Some loose papers flutter in the motion.

He can only imagine. Last year Ciri's cake had been a swamp cake- a cake shaped to look like a swamp. Mud puddles, frogs, toads (apparently there's a difference and Ciri was very particular on the details), mushrooms, fallen logs. Triss had managed it of course, she always manages to create nearly exactly what the client demands not matter how odd the request.

But if anyone could break Triss, it would be Ciri.

"Her birthday isn't until next month."

Geralt isn't thinking about it just yet. He can't believe Ciri is going to be six in just a few weeks. Refuses to think about it too long because if he does an odd pressure builds in his chest that makes him taste tears in the back of his throat.

His daughter is growing up. She's in school, she's making friends- particularly with Dara her fellow dinosaur lover- she's learning who she is and what she likes. Piano, Disney movies, mud puddles, Roach, music, dinosaurs, the color pink.

"And if I'm going to make the cake she wants I need to start practicing now." Triss shuffles the papers, snatching one up and discarding it before digging through the pile again. "Do you have any idea what she asked for?"

"Something dinosaur related," Geralt guesses. It's either dinosaurs or Encanto, one of the two. She's been obsessed with both this year and neither interest has slowed down in the slightest.

"She wants a space princess Spinosaurus. With a tutu and a tiara and a space helmet so it can breathe." Flustered, Triss snatches up a paper and shakes it in Geralt's face. "How am I supposed to put a tiara on a Spinosaurus? Do you have any idea what a Spinosaurus looks like?"

Geralt blinks. "No." Last he heard Ciri's favorite dinosaur was the Dilophosaurus and Triss had been bracing to learn how to draw it. He has no idea what a Spinosaurus even is but he's willing to be Ciri's friend Dara told her all about it.

"Well I do and their heads are such an odd shape. How am I supposed to put a tiara on that?" Triss huffs out a breath, frowning down at her sketch. "I'm not sure how to make the space helmet work either. I'm going to have to get very creative with this."

"If anyone can do it, it's you Triss."

He's seen Triss make a sunset cityscape cake, a cake in the shape of a chair, mimic the pattern from an old veil exactly by eyeballing it and freehanding the piping, mix custom colors together to get the perfect shade of neon green for a teenage mutant ninja turtle themed cake. If anyone can make Ciri's birthday cake exactly to Ciri's odd specifications, it's Triss.

If Triss doesn't drive herself crazy trying to draw a dinosaur to perfection first that is.

"Spinosaurus," she mutters, sitting down and pulling out her pencil case. "Of all things. Why couldn't it be a T-Rex? I know how to draw a T-Rex."

"At least it's not feathered," Geralt offers, wandering over to check on his sourdough starter.

Triss points a pencil at him threateningly. "Do not mention feathers on dinosaurs to her before next month. I mean it. I'm still recovering from that last peacock cake." She shudders, curls bouncing. "There were so many feathers on that last cake. I never want to draw another feather again as long as I live."

Geralt wisely closes his mouth and starts making the bread bowls for the day.

While Triss mutters over the cake sketches Geralt focuses on the bread bowls, the bagels, then eventually comes over to help Triss whip up the icing for the cupcakes. He bakes the cupcakes before turning them over to Triss for decorating, raising a brow at the various emoji shapes she's drawing on them. They sell well so Geralt says nothing. He doesn't get it but they're very well loved so he can't complain.

Yennefer says they do very well on The Witchery's Instagram page, which Geralt avoids when he can. Yennefer and Jaskier have happily taken over that- and he's almost positive that if he looked around he'd find a page for Roach as well. He would bet money Yen and Jaskier teamed up for that despite his flat refusal to photograph the dog more than he already does. Not that that would stop them. He knows Jaskier has several photos of Roach "being the most adorable dog ever" stored in his phone.

Though to be fair most of the pictures Geralt has in his phone are of Roach or Ciri or various food creations. Or Ciri and Jaskier both petting a deliriously happy dog and accepting joyful licks and laughing as her tail whips around, just a blur in the photo.

Geralt... has a lot of pictures in his phone. Most are of Ciri. A lot are of Ciri and Roach. And lately, pictures of Jaskier have started creeping in as well. Jaskier and Ciri at the keyboard. Jaskier standing over Ciri as she plays, smiling down at her with a proud grin. Jaskier walking Roach down the street, taken just to prove to everyone that Roach willingly goes on walks with Jaskier. Jaskier on stage to practice, serenading a pleased looking Roach and a happy looking Ciri who's singing along.

Ciri and Jaskier dumping an entire jar of glitter on her backpack with manic glee. Jaskier covered in flour from head to toe and looking enormously proud of his flat and wonky looking croissants. Ciri painting Jaskier's nails with the utmost concentration as Jaskier debates over the colors. Yennefer and Jaskier doing something extremely complicated to Ciri's hair on picture day. Jaskier throwing his head back and laughing- taken entirely because Renfri is also laughing at the horrible pun Jaskier made.

"The date's tonight," Triss says some hours later. Like Geralt needs the reminder. "Nervous?"

Geralt focuses on frying the doughnuts. If he focuses on the work he doesn't have the brain space to be nervous. "No."

"Of course not." Triss doesn't look up from her frosting though her mouth curves to match the smile she's drawing. "What's there to be nervous about? Jaskier likes you, you like him. We all saw this coming ages ago. I was prepared for at least another six months of pining and mooning before one of you bit the bullet and asked the other out to be honest."

Geralt sighs.

"It'll be fine," she assures him.

"I know."

Now Triss does look up. "But you're nervous."

He needs to fire everyone who works for him and hire people who don't know him at all and won't ask him personal questions they already know the answers to.

"...yes."

"Why?"

He doesn't know. He and Jaskier are pretty obviously a thing now, though Geralt isn't sure if he can call it dating. Fuck, are they dating? Are they officially together? Do a couple of make out sessions and a date make them boyfriends? Isn't he too old to have a boyfriend? Should he use a different word or would that confuse Ciri?

It's just a date. Just one dinner date out for sushi and then a walk in the park- most likely with Roach in tow as it'll be time for her bedtime walk by the time they're done with dinner. Though it's been so long, a really long time since he's gone on a date or spent the night with someone.

Will Jaskier want to spend the night?

Geralt doesn't even have to think about that one. Jaskier's made his interest in that abundantly clear. Geralt thinks, hopes that Jaskier has picked up on his mutual interest. He doesn't go around kissing just anyone. But if everything goes well, if Geralt plays his cards right then tonight will end with Jaskier in his bed. And even better, he'll wake up with him in the morning.

So maybe he should tell Jaskier he doesn't want this to be a casual thing. That he wants Jaskier to be there in the morning when he wakes. He wants this to be real, wants them to be exclusive and solid before they go too far. If they know where they stand then they can move forward easily. If they're on the same page it'll be no problem. If not then, well it's best they know early on and nip this in the bud.

Geralt doesn't want to nip it in the bud. He wants it to grow and bloom and become something that stands tall and proud. And he thinks- he hopes Jaskier wants the same.

"You'll be fine, Geralt."

Geralt drains the doughnuts before turning to Triss. "I want this," he says quietly. "More than I thought I would."

Triss's smile is bright and wide. "So go get it. You deserve it. You work all the time Geralt: in here, on yourself, you work to put in time with Ciri, you make sure she has the best life you can give her. You make her so happy. You deserve to be happy too."

Does he? He already has so much in his life and it's much more than he deserves, he knows that. Ciri happy and healthy and thriving. A business that more than provides for him and his daughter. Friendships that mean something- even Renfri as much as she'd try and deny it. His brothers are happy and living full lives. What right does Geralt have to ask for more?

Jaskier is fun, handsome, he talks too much and is always singing and he makes Geralt smile. Geralt feels happy around Jaskier, like the world isn't so dark and gray. Ciri started that process years ago, bringing light into Geralt's life and now Jaskier is here with bright colors and music and fun. Holding him. Touching him. Kissing him. Allowing him in.

No secrets, no guessing. Geralt knows about Jaskier's parents, Jaskier knows about Geralt's mother and it had been so easy to tell Jaskier about it, to share that part of himself that only a handful of people even know about. He's worked for years to be able to get the words out of his throat, to recognize the emotions that weigh heavy in his chest and work through them, to be better for Ciri.

And the kissing had been very nice. Geralt can still feel Jaskier pressed up against him, still taste him when he bites down on his lip. He wants that again, wants more, wants to put his hands all over Jaskier and kiss him until neither of them can breathe.

It's been quite a while since Geralt's wanted someone like this. Since he's been driven to distraction or focused on something other than work or Ciri. Yennefer's always been in Geralt's corner even when they're spitting mad at each other but now it feels like he has someone at his side, ready to walk forward with him.

They're going to start with one step: dinner.

"Don't let Renfri burn the place down while I'm gone," he calls, heading upstairs to change and knowing that Renfri can hear him.

"Well now I'm going to do that just to spite you!" Renfri shouts without turning around. Geralt chuckles his way up the stairs, pausing to pet a very happy Roach who is still confused by the lack of Ciri coming home.

"She's staying with Yen tonight," he tells the wiggling dog, kneeling to pet her under her collar. He never worries about Ciri when she's with Yen. His only concern is how many new outfits she'll come home with. "She'll be home tomorrow after school."

Now Geralt has to go through his closet and find something date appropriate and he's not too optimistic. It's been a long time since he updated his wardrobe but surely he has something in his closet that'll work. He doesn't just own Henley's and jeans, he knows for a fact he's got a suit buried in the depths of his closet... somewhere. Though that's not entirely appropriate for a casual sushi dinner date- even he knows that much.

But he needs to put in a little effort, show that he's put thought into this. His nicest black jeans, freshly washed and neatly pressed (his decision to wear them has nothing to do with the number of times he's caught Jaskier staring at his ass when wearing them, he swears) and the lone button down he finds in the back of his closet. It still has the price tags on it. It needs a good ironing but it's not black or gray or white.

His phone rings right as he gets the iron plugged in.

"Yen? Is Ciri-?"

"Ciri's fine," Yennefer interrupts breezily. "We had manicures, did some shopping and now we're eating popcorn and watching Encanto. Are you wearing that button down you've got? The red one with the black stitching around the pocket?"

Geralt glances down at the shirt with a frown. There is black stitching around the pocket, how about that.

"How did you-?"

"It's the only decent shirt you own. I wanted to make sure you didn't show up in that gray Henley you insist on keeping even though it doesn't fit you anymore. It's too tight."

Jaskier can't keep his eyes off Geralt whenever he wears that shirt. He wears it a lot and that... is definitely on purpose. He can cop to that in the privacy of his own head.

"Have you been going through my closet Yen?"

Over the line Yennefer snorts. "God no. I just know you haven't updated your wardrobe since we lived together. I'm pretty sure I actually bought you that button down. Wear it. It's a good color on you and Jaskier will like it."

"Should I be worried about the amount of attention you're paying to your ex-husband's date?" he asks, shifting the phone to rest between his cheek and shoulder so he can iron.

"You should be thanking me," Yennefer sniffs. "You wouldn't be going on this date if it wasn't for me."

"Whatever you say, Yen."

It's true and they both know it. Yennefer cackles at him before handing the phone over to Ciri, who cheerfully tells him all about her manicure and how her nails are the best shades of pink and green ever and Yennefer bought her ice cream and two new dresses and now they're watching movies and yes, Dad her homework is done, she promises.

"Does Roach miss me?"

Roach is dead asleep on her back, feet straight up in the air, laying right across the doorway to Geralt's room. She's snoring so loud it's a wonder Ciri can't hear her over the line.

"Yes."

"I miss her too. Give her a hug and tell her I'll be home tomorrow."

"I will."

"Love you Dad!"

"Love you too, princess. Be good for Yennefer. I'll pick you up from school tomorrow afternoon, okay?" Geralt slips into the shirt as the phone is handed back, trying his best to navigate the buttons one-handed.

"We're all settled here. You have fun for once in your life and remember that none of this would have happened without me and you'd be terribly lost without me."

Geralt will not be admitting that no matter how right she is and they both know that as well. "Bye, Yen."

"You owe me big for this. How many ex-wives do you know that would help their exes get laid? I should be knighted for this, honestly. Watching the two of you dance around each other and refuse to admit that you both wanted it was getting painful. Renfri wanted to lock you both in a closet and not let you out until you talked. Do you have condoms? Do I need to give you a safe sex talk? I know it's been awhile, you might have forgotten how to-"

"Good bye Yennefer."

He hangs up with a grumble, Roach scrambling upright when he steps over her.

"She thinks she knows everything," he mutters to the dog. Roach merely wags her tail, snatching up Ciri's tennis shoe and trotting over to the couch with it.

Though Geralt has to admit the shirt does fit him well, even if he winds up rolling up the sleeves to his elbows and undoing the top two buttons. The look on Jaskier's face when he opens the door is more than worth all the ironing.

"Well," Jaskier breathes. "This is what Yennefer meant."

He should have known Yennefer would be badgering Jaskier as well. He doesn't even know why he thought for a second she wouldn't.

"I got a text from her not five minutes ago that just says you're welcome and well, now I see why. I definitely owe her a nice bottle of wine if she got you to wear this." Jaskier fans himself and leans in for a kiss. Laughs when Geralt doesn't let him pull away and holds him in place for a longer one, one that simmers and smolders. "Mmm. Lovely. You look amazing. I've never seen you in a button down. You should wear them more often, treat the world to this view."

Jaskier is colorful as ever: a purple shirt unbuttoned more than Geralt's but not rolled up at the sleeves, a fitted gray plaid vest, bold navy pants that cling very nicely to his thighs. He's wearing a tuning fork necklace, two rings on each hand and boldly pink shoes that should be too much but on him aren't at all.

God help him Geralt's fallen for a man that wears brightly colored shoes.

"Ready for dinner?"

Geralt manages a nod and tries to remember how to behave on a date. Do any of the old rules apply here? He and Jaskier have already locked lips more than once so surely it's all right to take his hand. Is he expected to take Jaskier's hand or is that more of an after-the-date-goes-well thing?

Jaskier links their fingers together and gives him a wide grin, pulling him down the stairs.

"I'm going to talk a lot."

Geralt chuckles, something loosening in his chest when Jaskier runs a thumb over their joined hands. "You don't talk a lot already?"

"Rude." Jaskier swats his shoulder with the back of his hand. "I talk even more when I'm nervous and let me tell you Geralt, I am nervous as fuck right now. Isn't that odd? We've known each other for months, you're the one that asked me out, you have excellent kissing skills and I am still nervous to go out to dinner with you. I just know I'm going to mess it up somehow. So I thought I'd just get it all out of the way: I'm going to talk a lot, I'm a wimp who loves wasabi even though it makes me cry, I'm going to eat entirely too much nigiri, I'm going to laugh too loudly and I will make you try all the fruity sakes with me and I really, really want this to go well."

Slowly Geralt's shoulders begin to unknot. Just knowing that Jaskier is just as nervous as him, that he wants this too... it eases something in Geralt. He literally feels the tension start to leak out of him.

Geralt tugs on Jaskier's hand until the other man stops in his tracks, spinning to face him. He kisses Jaskier hard right there on the sidewalk in front of Jaskier's building, ignoring the sounds of traffic around them, some asshole wolf whistling at them as they pass. He kisses Jaskier until he's dizzy, fisting a hand in what no doubt was an elaborate hairdo that took Jaskier forever to get right.

"I can't use chopsticks. I'll be eating the sushi with my fingers."

Jaskier's brows wing up. His eyes looked a little glazed. "Oh you heathen, " he laughs- a bit breathlessly.

"I... I'm nervous too. I want this to work. I want us to work." He attempts to smooth the damage from Jaskier's hair and just makes it worse. Jaskier still hasn't let go of his hand. "I had rules before this, before you and you just... you fucking blew right through them."

"Mm, I know about someone blowing through carefully crafted rules that you've set for yourself." Jaskier tucks an errant strand of hair behind Geralt's ear, his thumb gently tracing Geralt's jaw as he does. "Let me guess: you don't date employees? Seems like a rule you'd have and I do technically work for you."

"That and I don't fall for my friends."

Geralt is not prepared for that to fall out of his mouth. He meant to say he doesn't date his friends but well, it's true. It's the downside to being more in touch with his emotions and working through them in health ways rather than drinking them away or just ignoring them: he feels them, he knows what they mean.

And he has fallen so hard for this brightly colored man in front of him. If he's going to admit it he might as well admit it- out loud and everything. He just didn't mean to bring it up before they even get to the restaurant, blurting it out right here on the street.

Jaskier kisses him sweet and slow, a hand on the back of Geralt's neck. "Yeah," he says softly, squeezing Geralt's hand. "I have that rule too. Guess we're both rule breakers now aren't we? I fell for you a while ago. Though I should tell you Roach stole my heart first, then Ciri, then you." He smiles, laughing when Geralt makes a desperate sound and kisses him again. He can't stop. He's addicted to the way Jaskier tastes, the way he feels in his arms. "Shall we go to dinner before we're arrested for public indecency?"

Geralt forces himself back a step and takes a deep breath to try and slow his pounding heart. He's going to do this right this time. A date, dinner before they fall into bed together. They're going to talk about what they want- he's going to talk about what he wants before they go too far.

"Might as well."

They walk into the restaurant hand-in-hand, only separating when they're seated across from each other. Jaskier talks the entire time, chattering about his concert (already sold out), the downloads for his album (far more than he thought there would be), the hunt for a space to open his own school (Yennefer has completely taken over there), how Ciri's lessons are going. His eyes water when he smears wasabi on his dragon roll and then water again when he laughs at Geralt attempting to use the chopsticks before giving up and just picking it up with his hands.

Geralt likes the fruity sake more than he thought he would.

"I wanted to go to the concert," he tells Jaskier as their plates are cleared away. "Tickets sold fast."

Jaskier beams at him, pleased more than anything. "It's all right- I know you can't be out too late with Ciri and all the early morning baking you do anyway. I appreciate the thought though." Jaskier tilts his head, considering. "Maybe my next concert will be an afternoon performance so you and Ciri can both come. I'd love to get you both backstage, show Ciri some of the workings of a theater."

"She'd love that." They both would. Seeing Jaskier perform on a stage to a crowded café is one thing. Seeing him charm a sold-out theater and sing his own work, perform the songs he created and wrote himself will be another thing entirely. "Yennefer's on the hunt for a space that could work for your school."

"She's very serious about the whole thing. I never dreamed I'd be opening a music school of my own." Jaskier rests his chin on his hand, a fond smile on his lips. "It's still a ways off of course but I'm certainly heading in that direction. I called Valdo last week and told him I wasn't coming back. Shani says there are a lot of disappointed students demanding to know what happened. A lot of them withdrew from their courses leaving Valdo scrambling."

Geralt shrugs, leaning back in his chair. "Serves him right."

Jaskier just laughs. "I like to think he lost one of his best teachers for no reason other than him being a money-grubbing snob who thinks classical is the only type of music worth learning." He waves his hand in the air like he's brushing something away. "His loss. I'm going to do things my way."

"You always do."

When they go to pay, Geralt doesn't hesitate to take Jaskier's hand in his.

Roach is delighted to see Jaskier. She jumps straight up from the floor to paw at his legs, wiggling around so much Geralt can barely clip the leash onto her collar.

"Aw, poor girl," Jaskier coos, petting her and riling her up and making it hard for Geralt to maneuver her out the apartment door. "Left all alone in this empty apartment while everyone goes out without you. Did you miss me? I bet you miss Ciri a lot right now, huh? It's okay she'll be home tomorrow."

Geralt takes the leash in one hand and Jaskier's hand in the other and tugs them both back down the stairs. Roach is happy to be with her people again and practically vibrates by the door, waiting for Geralt to open it. She streaks outside, leash extended to its fullest so she can sniff around.

Their romantic walk in the park isn't quite what Geralt had pictured. He has dog waste bags in his pocket, Roach is darting from one thing to the next and tugging them along for the ride as she goes, it's colder now than it was when they got to the restaurant- cold enough that Geralt can just see his breath in the night. Jaskier shivers slightly against him and burrows into his side.

And is quiet.

The quiet doesn't make Geralt nervous. Despite the cold and the mildly hyper dog it's a nice night. It's made even nicer by Jaskier dropping his head to rest it on Geralt's shoulder as they walk. The weight of it, the feeling of Jaskier against him spreads warmth through him that has nothing to do with body heat.

Roach stops suddenly, head and ears up and then sprints over to a tree, standing on her hind legs to scrabble at the bark, whining up into the branches. Geralt gives a gentle tug on the leash and whistles.

"Roach, leave the squirrels be."

Roach whines, pawing once more before dropping back down on all fours. With one last longing look at the tree she moves on, trotting ahead to pick out her newest stick to carry around.

"This is where we met," Jaskier says some time later, head coming off Geralt's shoulder. "Well, almost. If we keeping following this path we'll come right up to the fountain where Roach stole both my heart and my lunch. Buying that sandwich changed my entire life for the better, you know."

"I knew you were only keeping me around for the dog," Geralt deadpans.

Jaskier bursts into loud, delighted laughter. "Oh you've finally figured me out! That's right, I'm only in this for the dog. Planned the whole thing myself- bought a sandwich from your shop and then started playing right here in this park because I had to finally meet the cute dog that always wagged her tail at me when I saw her behind the register. Decided to teach her owner piano and seduce this hot baker just to keep her around." Roach wiggles her way back to Jaskier's side, whacking Jaskier in the leg with her prized stick when he bends to pet her. "She's just so cute, how could I resist?"

"At least you know she's Ciri's dog."

They follow the path until they reach the fountain, stopping to observe it in the glow of the street lamps. It looks different at night, empty and with the fountain already turned off for the season. All the way across the courtyard, so far away they're only shadows, Geralt can just make out another couple passing through, hand-in-hand and hunched together against the cold.

Roach drops her stick at his feet and gives him pleading eyes.

Geralt glances around again. It's technically against the rules but Roach never goes far and runs right back the moment someone looks like they might be thinking about walking up to her. And there's no one else here. He picks up the stick, sending Roach wiggling in anticipation.

"Just once," he says. "I'll take you to the dog park tomorrow." He drops the leash and throws- well, more tosses, really- the stick in a straight line across the courtyard. Roach dashes after it, her paws scrambling on the stone. She slides past the stick in her excitement but snatches it up when she turns, trotting back to Geralt in a very pleased manner.

"Good girl," Jaskier coos, kneeling to rub her head. "The best girl, yes you are! Master stick finder, lunch thief, shoe thief, fierce protector of dinosaur loving girls and best drooler in town."

Jaskier takes the leash when he stands, winding it around his wrist.

"I still don't know what made her run off that day." Geralt's often thought back to that spring day, Ciri stomping through mud puddles, music playing in the distance, the dog happy to play with Ciri and chase the squirrels. He'd only taken his eyes off her for a second and she slipped away. She walked right up to Jaskier when he and Ciri were both right there.

Jaskier burrows back against him, sighing happily when Geralt wraps an arm around his waist to draw him in.

"I wonder what made her come up to me in the first place. Ciri says it's because she liked my music."

"Ciri's probably right." Geralt squeezes him once. "Or she knew that you were a good person."

Jaskier hums. "Maybe she knew we'd be good together. Is that it, Roach? Are you a magical match-making dog? If so good job. You picked well- Geralt is exactly my type: hot. Being this hot is just a bonus for me so thank you."

"I didn't think you were my type," Geralt muses, chuckling when Jaskier elbows him before immediately turning his head to catch the kiss Geralt presses against his cheek with his mouth instead. "But..."

"You take that back. I'm exactly your type."

Geralt can't stop kissing him long enough to dispute it. "You are," he agrees, hands resting on Jaskier's hips to pull him in close. Roach paces a circle around them, the leash wrapping around their legs. Geralt takes advantage of the lack of space around them to rest his forehead on Jaskier's and breathe him in. "You're- I want you to be mine, Jaskier. This is... I want this. Us."

Whatever label works. Boyfriend, partner, significant other, anything so long as Jaskier is his. So long as Jaskier will have him.

"Oh darling," Jaskier breathes, the tip of his cold nose brushing Geralt's. "I've been yours for ages."

The next kiss is hungry and demanding. Geralt does his best to devour Jaskier right then and there, wanting so much that he burns with it. Jaskier throws his arms around Geralt's neck, the leash digging into their shoulders and throws himself into the kiss. A high, needy sound escapes- Geralt's almost positive that it came from Jaskier.

"Come home with me," he means to ask but begs instead. "Jaskier- Jask, do you want-?"

"Yes." Jaskier bites at Geralt's lip, his chin, his neck. "God yes. I don't think I've ever wanted anything more than I want you."

Geralt knows the feeling.

They're a tangle when then spill into the apartment. Roach is still attached to her leash which one of them has in their hands- Geralt realizes it's him and reaches down to undo it. It proves to be hard when Jaskier is busy sucking a massive bruise into his collar bone, his hands streaking down Geralt's chest to undo the buttons.

He gets the dog freed from the leash and pushes Jaskier up against the wall, fisting his hands in that wonderfully soft hair and plundering Jaskier's mouth. He chases every taste he can find, biting and soothing in equal measures, desperate and greedy. Jaskier keens against him, clever, calloused fingers already working at Geralt's belt.

Impatient, unwilling to let Jaskier have all the fun, Geralt rips the vest from Jaskier's shoulders, pausing only to sink his teeth into the junction of Jaskier's neck, hard enough to make him cry out and oh, it's such a sweet sound. Geralt does it again, reveling in the way it makes Jaskier squirm.

Oh this is going to be so much fun.

Undoing Jaskier's buttons is much easier than getting his own shirt on. It's especially rewarding when Jaskier arches into Geralt and whines, legs splaying open when Geralt wedges his thigh between them. He finally gets Jaskier's shirt open, finally tugs it down his arms and off and gets his hands on Jaskier's skin.

Miles of warm skin under his hands, the feeling of Jaskier's mouth hot against his, Jaskier's hands ripping his own shirt off, an impatient sound spilling out his mouth and falling into Geralt's. It's all so much, overwhelming and wonderful and not enough, he needs- he wants-

Geralt gets both of Jaskier's wrists in his, pining his hands against the wall over his head. He leans in, resting his weight against Jaskier until he has no choice but to lean back, every single inch of him pressed against Geralt's chest. He trembles in Geralt's grip, pupils blow huge.

" Geralt, " he begs and Geralt slams his mouth down to catch the loud moan that spills out of him when Jaskier grinds down on his thigh.

"Been a while," Geralt manages to get out in the desperate dash to the bedroom. "Might be out of practice."

Jaskier takes two fistfuls of Geralt's hair and uses it pull Geralt forward into a searing kiss. "I'll let you know if you miss a step," he promises, allowing himself to be led backwards until he falls onto the bed.

Geralt doesn't hesitate to follow him down.

Later, Jaskier draped across him in a skew of limbs, his head resting on Geralt's chest and Geralt's hand tangled in his hair, Jaskier begins to hum a soft melody, his fingers idly tracing an old scar on Geralt's abdomen.

"That's the song you were singing when Roach found you."

"Mm, yes. She's quite the Hozier fan isn't she?" Jaskier presses a kiss to the scar and wiggles further up to rest against Geralt's shoulder. "I'm a big fan of him myself. Something about the way he sings makes me feel like I'm moss growing on a stone in a sunny field somewhere."

"Hmm."

Jaskier keeps humming, idly running his hands up and down Geralt's chest. The motion is soothing, the feeling of Jaskier in his arms and the knowledge that he'll be there in the morning is enough for his eyes to start to droop close just as Jaskier begins to sing quietly. The words follow him down into sleep.

"...something so wholesome about you... get closer to me..."

The morning finds them curled around each other, arms and legs hopelessly tangled, Jaskier drooling on Geralt's chest, Geralt snoring in Jaskier's ear, the dog taking up entirely too much of the mattress and laying sprawled across their feet.

Chapter Text

"It's crooked," Aiden remarks.

"Fuck off, it is not."

Jaskier tilts his head, watching Lambert and Geralt hang the screen for the projector behind the stage- cleared of instruments and ready for thirty five-to-six year olds to be clambering all over it. Renfri is still clearing space in front, moving tables and chairs and booths off to the side or into the storage space out back. She's also in charge of chasing away people who try to come inside despite the multiple signs that state The Witchery is closed for the day for a private party- a job she's enjoying just a tad too much.

"No," he says slowly, now tilting his head the other way. "No, he's right. It's definitely crooked."

Lambert scoffs at them both, turning back to the screen. Geralt frowns at his line, then leans back on the ladder to get a good look at Lambert's side.

"This is what happens when you send bisexual people to hang things: nothing winds up straight."

Aiden's laughter is loud enough to send an already slinking Roach back into the kitchen to hide. Jaskier's pretty sure she's either going to hide behind Triss- still putting the finishing touches on the cake- or sneak upstairs. Even though she knows almost everyone here it's still too many people for the poor girl.

Aiden claps Jaskier on the back hard enough to make him stumble, then pulls him in for a half hug. "Isn't that the truth? We probably shouldn't cut things either. Love, he's right. You need to go up a bit more."

Lambert scowls- though Jaskier is learning that's just Lambert's default facial setting- and raises his side a few extra inches.

"See, now it's crooked," Lambert protests.

"Yes because you went up too much. Down just a hair."

Now Geralt is scowling. "Lambert, just hang the damn thing, would you? I'd like to get off this ladder sometime today. Preferably before the party starts."

"I'm fucking hanging the fucking thing, aren't I? Picky, picky," Lambert growls. But he eases the sheet down an inch or two. "How's that? Better your highness?"

Jaskier scoffs. "Oh please, you know as well as I do that we all want Ciri's birthday to be perfect. A girl only turns six once you know." Lambert narrows his eyes. "It's fine like that. I think."

"You think? "

"It's fine, just hang the damn thing."

"Perfect," Aiden says, leaning down to snicker into Jaskier's ear. "They're useless without us, aren't they?"

Jaskier chuckles, wrapping an arm around Aiden's waist in a friendly manner. He's already decided that out of everyone that's descended upon The Witchery to celebrate Ciri's birthday Aiden is his favorite. He's funny, tall and he recognized Jaskier from his album art. He even sang a bit of Her Sweet Kiss (in an absolutely tone-deaf voice if Jaskier's being completely honest here) and told Jaskier he can't get it out of his head. Which is high praise.

Lambert's been glaring at him nonstop since Jaskier was introduced. Geralt's promised Jaskier that that's just how he looks and to not read into it, promptly putting his brother in a headlock and dragging him to the front of the café to help him with the decorations.

Eskel is an absolute sweetheart, reaching out to shake Jaskier's hand with Ciri perched on his shoulders. Roach even walked up to him with a tail wag before retreating back into the kitchen when Lambert bustled back in with all the subtlety of a bull in a china shop.

Coen and Vesemir have given Jaskier a once-over but haven't rendered judgment yet. Jaskier's trying not to sweat too much about it. He's pretty sure he's failing.

Meeting the family is going okay so far. He thinks. Jaskier's never had a relationship that lasted long enough to get to the meet-the-family stage but he needs this to go right. Geralt's brothers, his father, they mean a lot to Geralt and Ciri both. Getting their approval is nearly as important as it was to get Ciri's.

And Ciri very much approves of Jaskier and Geralt dating. She's more delighted than Yennefer- who is mostly relieved that the pining is over with and tells anyone that will listen that this is all thanks to her.

"Jaskier and Dad kiss all the time now," Ciri announces from Eskel's shoulders, kicking her feet up. She's refusing to wear anything but the dinosaur onesie that Yennefer got her with spikes all along the back, the hood, and down the tail that drags on the floor behind her. Roach keeps trying to chase the tail and bite at it, convinced it's a new toy just for her.

Geralt's spent the entire morning chasing the dog who's chasing Ciri who's running to entertain the dog. Jaskier has the whole thing on video. Triss nearly laughed herself to tears over it.

Coen waggles his brows at Geralt, who ignores him. "Really? Do they go out on dates and kiss?"

"Uh-huh. Jaskier says that Dad snores but Dad doesn't believe him."

Geralt heaves a long suffering sigh, dislodging Aiden's arm from Jaskier's shoulders to rest his chin there instead, his arms wrapping around Jaskier from behind.

"I don't snore that loudly," he protests, glaring at his daughter.

"Yes you do," Yennefer and Jaskier say at the same time.

"I shared a room with you in our first house," Eskel informs him. "Trust me bro, you snore. Why do you think I wanted my own room when Vesemir bought that bigger place? No one wanted to share with you. I don't know how Jaskier puts up with it."

"It's because he's cute. You're worse than the dog," Jaskier adds, turning to kiss a scowling Geralt on the cheek. "But you don't drool as much as she does so it's all fine."

Geralt turns his glare on Jaskier. "You're the one that drools. And you talk in your sleep."

"I have a lot to say! Not even sleep can silence me."

Yennefer elbows Aiden out of the way and shoves her phone under Jaskier's nose. "Have you seen this place?" she demands to know. "It would be perfect for your school. It's right near the park where you like to busk, not to far from here and look at all this gorgeous space. The price is a little high but we can work on that."

"Working now, even during Ciri's birthday?"

"Work never stops. Besides the party hasn't started yet."

Once Yennefer sets her sights on a project she is all in. Jaskier supposes that's what makes her such a canny and successful business woman: she goes after what she wants and doesn't stop until she's satisfied. She's terrifying. It's amazing.

And she went with Jaskier to the police station to file the no contact order on his father, Geralt holding his hand the entire time. He hasn't heard from Franklin in months and he doesn't plan on breaking that streak any time soon. He's been blocking anyone on his socials that asks about his father, old faces and names he vaguely recognizes from his teenage years- and once even blocking his father himself after screenshotting the message for the report.

Apparently Franklin is embarrassed that his only child is a successful musician and wants Jaskier to come home and work a "real job".

"Be under his thumb, more like," Yennefer had said, reading over the message as they waited at the court house to file the documents. Geralt had been ready to make the five hour drive to his father's place and tear him a new one, eyes full of fire when he heard Franklin was contacting Jaskier online.

"I told him what would happen if he ever contacted you again," he snarled, clutching Jaskier's hand tight. It took a few deep breaths and the feeling of Jaskier clinging to him tightly, here and safe and sound for Geralt to calm down enough to talk without growling.

But now the report is filed, the order is in place and his father can never talk to him again.

He never asked Yennefer to help him with the hunt for a suitable place to open his school, or even to help him at all but she's doing it anyway. She sent him a realtor, helped him work out a budget and lately she's been scrolling through real estate listings, searching for something that could work. Jaskier's started sending his finds to her to be vetted before he schedules a viewing- she knows the market better than he does anyway.

"Oh it's very nice." Examining the pictures more closely and feeling Geralt lean over his shoulder to do the same, Jaskier scrolls through the photos. It's a very nice old studio pretty close to the area he's hoping to stay in. "It was an old dance studio- oh hopefully that means I won't have to do much sound-proofing. It'll need some updating... hm, this could work." He'll have to call and set up a showing later.

Right now it's birthday time and that trumps everything no matter what Yennefer says.

"Ciri look who's-"

"Dara!" Ciri can't climb down from Eskel fast enough, practically jumping off his shoulders to scramble to the door. "Dara, Dara, look what Aunt Yen bought me!" She strikes a pose in the spiked outfit, turning in two fast circles to show it off in all its dinosaur glory.

"A stegosaurus!" Dara looks overjoyed.

"And it's pink! "

Geralt extracts himself from Jaskier long enough to go greet Dara's mother, one of the few parents he's willing to initiate conversation with. He claims most of the other parents give him a headache- and having met most of them now, Jaskier can't help but agree. Geralt avoids the PTA as best he can, using Jaskier as his shield against being sociable whenever possible. Jaskier is happy to make small talk so he doesn't have to but he's pleased that Geralt is at least making one parent friend.

"I knew the dinosaur onesie would be a hit." Triumphant, Yennefer takes her phone back and actually puts it away. Even she isn't going to be distracted during Ciri's birthday. "Best Aunt ever."

"She hasn't taken it off since you gave it to her last night," Jaskier says on a laugh. "Pretty sure she slept in it. I've never seen someone so happy to be in a bright pink dinosaur onesie. Did you get it custom made?"

"I certainly did. Ciri always says there's not enough pink dinosaur stuff and I know someone who makes costumes. Put the order in two months ago."

They watch Ciri drag Dara over to the cupcake making station, her slightly too big costume- no doubt made that way to survive a few growth spurts- bouncing as she runs. She can't stop smiling even when the hood falls over her eyes again.

"Worth every penny," Jaskier tells her.

"She looks fucking adorable," Lambert mutters, pulling Aiden into his side. His scowl starts to melt off his face at the sight of Ciri laughing with a friend. "Christ I can't believe she's six already."

"Jaskier!" Ciri spins a quick circle and heads for Jaskier at a fast clip. The hood slips over her face, covering her eyes. She tips her head back, nearly bending double to look at Jaskier from underneath the spikey hood. "Can we bring the keyboard down now?"

He can't see why not. He needs to get it all set up before everyone arrives anyway. "Ready to perform for your class today?"

"Yeah!" Ciri scrambles up into Jaskier's arms, hugging him around the neck. She's almost entirely vanished into the onesie. "I'm gonna play a song and Jaskier's gonna sing," she tells Vesemir, bouncing on Jaskier's hip. "Jaskier taught me to play We Don't Talk About Bruno and Under The Sea and now we're practicing You're Welcome but it's hard."

Disney continues to be the way to go to get Ciri to practice. She'll do her keys and scales before the song- once. After that Jaskier had better teach her a new part of the song and practice what they went over last time or she gets a bit grumpy and uninterested as is any six-year-old's right.

"You'll get it," he promises her, pulling her hood back to plant a kiss on her cheek and sending her into a fit of giggles. "You're a very talented dinosaur."

He has a feeling she's going to love the next song he's got picked out for her. He almost can't wait to tell her but he's keeping it to himself for now. They just showed Ciri Jurassic Park only last week and she's obsessed with it- demanding they watch it nearly every single day. Jaskier has the sheet music for the theme song on stand-by.

It'll be a hit with the dinosaur obsessed one, he's sure of it.

Geralt tugs Ciri's hood further down to expose her head, bending to kiss her hair when she bends backwards to look at him.

"Dad, the keyboard!"

Geralt shoots Jaskier an amused look, one that proclaims without words that it's entirely Jaskier's fault Ciri is obsessed with playing piano. "You two and your music. All right, go get it."

"We'll check on Roach while we're upstairs too."

Ciri's lip comes out on a pout as she wiggles back down to the floor. "I wish she would come downstairs and meet my friends."

"Bit too many people for her," Jaskier reminds her gently. Ciri sighs and slips her hand into his, tugging him towards the kitchen door impatiently. "Be right back!"

The door hasn't quite swung completely closed when he hears Lambert scoff, turning to Geralt. "He seems nice. The fuck is he doing with an asshole like you?"

"I could say the same about Aiden and you."

Roach peeks out from behind the couch when the make their way upstairs but doesn't come out. Jaskier just knows that his favorite pair of blue shoes are in her shoe and stick nest- probably with Geralt's favorite pair of boots and Ciri's pink Mary Janes. She tends to horde the shoes when downstairs gets too busy, comforted by the scent of her people when there are strangers around.

And busy it is. Nearly all of Ciri's class is here, twenty-odd five year olds all running around, shrieking, consuming sugar and laughing and chasing each other around. Even Jaskier who's used to being around children is a bit overwhelmed at the barely controlled chaos. Yennefer is set up in a corner booth with a play makeup set, happily giving out makeovers to any kid who asks. Renfri is at the drink counter, supplying caffeine for the adults and smoothies for any kids who want them. Geralt is manning the cupcake making table and is already completely covered in frosting even with an apron on.

Jaskier sternly reminds himself that he is at a birthday party with other people present and he should not go over and offer to lick the frosting off his boyfriend's fingers. That would be inappropriate.

Triss's cake is a thing of beauty. The dinosaur has a sparkly tutu and tiara, an astronaut's helmet in place per Ciri's instructions. He doesn't know how she managed it but Ciri shrieks with absolute glee when it's brought out, leaping up to hug Triss and exclaim that "it's perfect! Thank you thank you thank you!"

"Space dinosaur princess," Jaskier informs a baffled looking Vesemir.

"Huh. Dunno what the hell that is but she looks happy." Vesemir accepts the piece of cake Jaskier offers him. He got a piece of the tutu, the edible glitter somehow all over his fork already. It's going to get everywhere Jaskier just knows it. "She's got a hell of an imagination."

Jaskier's pretty sure the tutu the dinosaur is wearing is an exact mirror of Ciri's pink one. The same one she was wearing when he met her. "Dinosaur ballerina," he remembers fondly, biting into his own piece of the cake.

It's absolutely delicious.

"A what?"

"It's how Ciri introduced herself to me," Jaskier says around a mouthful of frosting. He doesn't turn around when Geralt's arms snake around his waist from behind. Offering Geralt a bite off his fork, Jaskier explains. "She was wearing a tutu just like this one and muddy galoshes with her dinosaur hoodie and told me she was a dinosaur ballerina."

A puff of breath next to his cheek is his only warning before Geralt gets a hand under Jaskier's chin and turns him for a kiss that tastes like frosting.

"You remember that," he murmurs, kissing the corner of Jaskier's mouth.

"Well of course I remember that," Jaskier sniffs, reaching up to wipe frosting from Geralt's nose. "It's not every day I meet a five year old with such an esteemed dinosaur ballet career. Darling you have frosting absolutely everywhere. How did you do that?"

"Small children have hands covered in frosting."

"Oh now it's all over me too!" Jaskier attempts to wiggle out of Geralt's grip but he hangs on tight. "I see. I thought you were being sweet but no, you just want to use me as your own personal napkin. Did you get frosting on the back of my shirt? Geralt!"

Chuckling, not looking the least bit sorry, Geralt rubs his cheek against Jaskier's neck. Jaskier can feel the frosting smearing across his skin and tries in vain to escape it, laughing despite himself.

"You're the worst," he huffs, scooping frosting from his cake onto his finger and spreading it across Geralt's smirking face. "I'm supposed to go onstage with Ciri and sing you know."

Geralt swipes the frosting off his face and licks it from his finger and Jaskier's entire mind just goes blank. Oh that is so not fair...

"Jaskier!" Ciri calls, waving her arms like he couldn't spot her from across the room in that adorable outfit. "Now? Can we? Please?"

Jaskier wipes himself off as best he can, ignoring Geralt smirking and reaching for him with frosting coated fingers. "Duty calls. Keep your paws off me or I'll spend the night at my place tonight," he warns, swatting Geralt's still reaching fingers. "You can snore in bed all by yourself."

"How will I ever survive."

"You'd miss me and you know it. I'm a delight to have around."

"But I'd get the whole bed to myself."

Vesemir watches the man flounce off, scooping Ciri up and causing her to shriek with laughter. He's good with the girl, with kids in general it seems. Most of Ciri's class are enamored by him, watching him decorate cupcakes and accept Yennefer putting some glitter on his eyelids with giggles and wide eyes. He's wearing a bright purple shirt with a dinosaur patch on the sleeve and a matching pin near the collar, jeans with a hole at the knee and lime green shoes. He's nothing at all what Vesemir had pictured when Geralt told him he was seeing someone new.

Vesemir isn't even sure what he was picturing but Jaskier certainly wasn't it.

It's not a bad thing. Just surprising. Geralt doesn't really have a type that Vesemir's seen over the years but if he had to describe his son's tastes he never would have pictured a brightly colored extrovert who sings for a living.

Jaskier smiles and bounces around the room, stopping to chat with every person he comes across. He's charming and friendly but not in a false or smarmy way. He means all the compliments he gives- admiring this woman's dress, that man's shoes, making Eskel laugh through his piece of cake when he stops to chat, showing Coen something on his phone that has the man howling in laughter. Ciri hangs off him at every chance and he laughs and hoists her up onto his hip, exchanging grins with the birthday girl as they approach the stage.

And he makes Geralt smile.

Vesemir can't remember the last time Geralt smiled like that. When did his son get so relaxed in a room full of people? Geralt's about as people-adverse as his dog and yet here he is, watching Jaskier flit from place to place, smiling and recording Jaskier and Ciri singing on stage with an impossibly fond look on his face.

"They've been practicing this all month," Geralt tells him. "Every day for the past week I've come home to Ciri playing and Jaskier singing."

"Piano teacher, isn't he?"

"Music teacher- he's opening a school as soon as he can find a place that works. And musician. He's got an album out now. People recognize him when he's in the dining area. Sometimes when we go out he gets stopped for autographs or photos."

Right, Vesemir remembers Eskel mentioning something about Jaskier's music being catchy. He'd had to contain his shock when Geralt told him he was dating a professional musician. Vesemir had braced for a rock star with face paint and instead was greeted by bright blue eyes, brighter clothes and a mile wide grin.

"Seven foot frame, rats along his back. When he calls your name it all fades to black," Jaskier sings, hunching over and creeping across the stage, much to the delight of the children. Some of the parents chuckle. "Yeah he sees your dreams, feasts on your screams."

"We don't talk about Bruno, no, no, no," Ciri sings out. Her voice isn't as clear as Jaskier's is but she's clearly enjoying herself, her fingers flying across the keys. Some of the other kids join in, providing the background lyrics or just singing along with them.

Geralt's grin gets wider.

Vesemir watches them throughout the rest of the party. Sees the way Geralt reaches for Jaskier, draws him in. He's openly affectionate in a way Vesemir didn't see even when he was married. He holds Jaskier close, kisses him, accepts the kisses Jaskier bestows upon him. Every time Jaskier reaches for him, Geralt reaches back.

Geralt, Vesemir realizes, is happy.

That... that decides things for him. Shock at the bright colors and Geralt falling for his opposite aside, his son is happy with this man. This chatty, flirty, laughing, music playing man makes his son laugh and tease and relax even in a room full of strangers, planting himself at Geralt's side and smoothly extracting him from a conversation he clearly doesn't want to be in before Geralt insults someone.

And that's enough for him.

Hours later, after presents and cake and makeovers, Ciri is settled on the dinosaur shaped beanbag chair (a bright green gift from Jaskier, apparently he hadn't been able to find a pink one) and half asleep like most of the other kids, all of them sleepily watching Moana play on the projector. The parents gratefully accept the coffee Renfri sets out, settling into the tables and booths that hadn't been cleared away and quietly chatting with each other as everything winds down.

Jaskier is slumped against Geralt's side, head on Geralt's shoulder, Geralt's arm around him. They're both leaning in, pressing in as tight as they can in their private little booth. Vesemir can see their fingers linked together from here.

Coen purses his lips, watching his brother press a kiss to the top of Jaskier's head, completely relaxed.

"So what are we thinking, six months till Geralt calls us up to say he's engaged again?"

Yennefer snorts. "Oh please, like Geralt will move that fast. Do you know how much badgering it took from me and Triss just to get them to go out on a date? Months of watching those two circle each other and pretend like they weren't interested. It was torture. Agony. "

Eskel considers that. Geralt's never been one to move too fast when it comes to matters of the heart. He likes to drag his feet a bit even when he shouldn't but now he's found someone willing to wait and go at his pace, or nudge him gently in the right direction. Despite all of Jaskier's fluttering and bounciness Jaskier seems to balance Geralt. "So... eight months?"

"Eh." Lambert plops himself down beside Yennefer, yanking Aiden into his lap and stealing his coffee. "Maybe closer to a year. He's thick. Might take him a bit."

"I like Jaskier," Aiden announces, reclaiming his coffee and ignoring Lambert protesting. "He's fun. I say ten months before they're engaged. Are they living together?"

"Not yet."

Lambert's brows wing up. "Oh, I say Jaskier moves in by Christmas. It's what, three months away?"

"Geralt gives Jaskier a key on Christmas," Yennefer decides, picking up her phone. "He's already got a drawer but you know Geralt is not going to be the one to broach that subject. I had to sit him down and ask about it and we were already engaged."

Renfri plops a perfectly made smoothie down in front of Yennefer. "What are we talking about?"

Eskel juts his chin towards the loving couple practically melted together in the booth. Geralt looks about half asleep as Jaskier runs his fingers through his hair. "When d'you think they'll get married?"

Renfri shudders. "Ugh, legally binding yourself to someone. You romance people are so weird." Coen reaches over to high-five her. "But those two? Never. They'll keep waiting for the other one to ask and eventually will just call each other husband but won't actually be married or whatever. Or they elope and turn up married one day. Either way."

Triss lets out her amazing laugh, folding herself neatly into the seat beside Vesemir. "Oh they'll get married," she predicts, accepting the tall latte Renfri hands her. "But I think Jaskier will have to do the proposing. Geralt will talk himself out of it half a dozen times and Jaskier will get impatient."

In the end, they're all wrong.

It takes Geralt two months after the party to give Jaskier a key and six months after that to move him in fully- the same day Jaskier officially buys the building that will become his school.

And a full year after the school opens Roach digs the ring out of Geralt's sock drawer. She brings the drool covered box to Jaskier, tail wagging, very pleased with herself and her new toy- prompting Geralt to propose in the middle of them doing laundry and working out the schedule for Jaskier's newest instructor hire rather than at the park that night like he planned.

Jaskier says yes anyway, laughing through tears when he's tackled from all sides by Geralt, Ciri and the dog, upending the laundry they just spent twenty minutes folding.

"I can't believe you made Ciri's dog propose for you."

"I didn't plan on that."

"You hid the ring in a sock drawer- how cliché! You couldn't hide it someplace more original?"

"Well it worked didn't it?"

"Dad, Roach is chewing on the box."

"Well of course it worked. What, am I supposed to say no when the love of my life asks me to marry him? I don't think so. Fat fucking chance of that- we're getting married if you proposed to me with a ring pop."

"You couldn't have mentioned that before I spent two weeks looking for this damn ring? Roach can have the box, the box is just a box."

"And it's a lovely ring. Drool and everything. And it fits too! Oof, Roach you can keep the box but I need you to get off my ribs. I want to serve scones at the wedding. Our big, smashing, amazing wedding. Do you want a big wedding? I want a big wedding. Big and loud and noisy and full of music and good food. Lots of dancing. And color- oh I want a colorful wedding, none of this all white crap."

"I'm not making the scones."

"Ciri, talk to your father. He's being ridiculous again."

"I like scones! Can I play at the wedding?"

"Wait, that's a good point- of course you can Ciri, darling, I'd love to have you play something for us- I'm not hiring just any band at my own wedding and you know for a fact Triss will kill you if she's not allowed to make your wedding cake-"

"How are we supposed to dance if you're on stage playing?"

"Dad, I'll play your first dance song, duh."

"Yes Geralt, duh. But I really want scones, love. Your amazing scones, they're so delicious. Can't you just make some? For the groom party maybe? Not that many. Please? For me?"

"...hmm."

"Oh, that's his fine hmm. Ciri, love we've got him!"

fin