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It must have began slowly, as acquaintanceship that turned to friendship, friendship that matured into affection, and finally affection that blossomed into love. Geralt can’t remember with much distinction when one thing led to another. The beginning is all very easy to know, meeting Jaskier was certainly memorable enough. But from there it’s mostly blurred lines. Slowly unwelcome touches became tolerated, then expected, and eventually appreciated. The flowery smells that always hang around him became a comforting scent rather than a distraction. Geralt really noticed how close the two had become when the sound of humming or lute strumming became expected and enjoyed instead of an annoying disturbance of blissful silence. Instead he began to long for all the little things that are a part of Jaskier anytime they weren’t together.
It’s hard for him to say how long he’s been in love. There was no definitive beginning, just a gradual realization. At first he tried his best to push Jaskier away, with extra gruffness and some possibly too nasty words. But Jaskier never strayed, never stayed away longer than normal, never took any of it to heart. All Geralt earned for his efforts were some playful slaps to the shoulder and a “someone’s awfully grumpy today,” and perhaps that made him love Jaskier all the more.
But for all that Geralt has known his own feelings he could never quite pick out Jaskier’s. Yes of course Jaskier calls them friends, which Geralt occasionally denies just to see the man pout about it, but he’s never been able to figure out if it goes any further. There were a few drunken nights that he considered bringing the topic up, but a fear of change has mostly kept any sort of declarations at bay. He loves Jaskier, and the last thing he wants is to push him too far or divulge unrequited feelings that might finally make Jaskier decide that it isn’t worth it to be around Geralt anymore.
For all Geralt knows Jaskier might have fallen in and out of love with him a hundred times by now, he seems to do so at the drop of a hat. But normally he is incapable of keeping his mouth shut about those sort of things, so maybe he never has. In his eyes they might just be close friends. Jaskier’s idea of close just happens to be sharing a bed at inns, dramatically draping himself over Geralt’s lap fairly regularly, sharing food and drinks, lingering touches, fond smiles… all the things that are not just casual for Geralt.
For the most part Geralt is content with the way things are. Sometimes his hand might linger a few seconds longer on Jaskier’s shoulder, or maybe he presses closer when they’re sitting beside each other, or he might pretend to sleep when they share a bed so he can enjoy the chance at being close, or maybe he gets a little dazed when he watches Jaskier play just for him. But none of those things matter, and Jaskier has never seemed to notice, so why ruin a good thing by bringing up feelings that can just as easily stay hidden.
Lately, however, Jaskier has been acting odd. Or, more odd than usual. He seems to second guess casual touches, like a hand on Geralt’s elbow, or laying his head on Geralt’s shoulder. He begins to do it, and then stops himself short, which he’s never done before. His glances seem more reserved, his openness has closed off a little. Hell, even his strumming and humming feels… different. Deep down Geralt is afraid that this might be the end and Jaskier just hasn’t found a way to say it yet.
Of all the days they’ve ever spent together this one has to have been the quietest. There hasn’t been any singing, barely any talking, and the lute playing only started when they made camp an hour ago.
Geralt keeps a watchful eye on Jaskier as he halfheartedly pokes at the fire. He’s half waiting for his friend to keel over and die with the way he’s been acting.
It’s almost startling when out of the blue Jaskier speaks. “You know what, I’m gonna say it. Maybe it’s not smart thing to do but I’m going to die if I don’t get it out.”
Geralt perks up, making full eye contact with Jaskier. His normally slow heart has drastically picked up, and his stomach sinks in preparation for bad news.
Jaskier looks down at his hands as he wrings them, then back up to meet Geralt’s. He hesitates, and looks back down before continuing. “Geralt, I love you. And maybe it’s stupid to say it but —“
Geralt can’t hear a thing. The world whites out around him and it sounds like an ocean has taken up residence in his ears. He can see that Jaskier continues talking, but he’s missing out on most of it while he tries to recover from the shock.
“Right, well I’ll just go fuck myself then I guess. Don’t worry, first thing in the morning I’ll be gone. …I’m sorry that I’ve cucked it all up.” He half whispers the last bit, which Geralt just barely catches.
There’s the twinkle of tears gathering in his eyes and the telltale tremble of his bottom lip as he begins to turn his back. A little belatedly Geralt realizes he hasn’t given Jaskier a response beyond visible shock.
Geralt goes to say Jaskier’s name, but his voice only comes out as a barely audible croak. He quickly clears his throat, and tries again. “Jaskier-“
“No, don’t,” Jaskier cuts him off. “I don’t need to hear it, your expression was quite clear.” His voice waivers as he speaks, and it wouldn’t take knowing the man for the last decade or two to tell that he can’t hold back his tears any longer.
Geralt barely registers moving, his body surging into motion of its own will, and suddenly he is kneeling in front of his friend. A tentative hand reaches out, wiping the tears from Jaskier’s cheek with a thumb.
“I love you too,” his voice almost doesn’t sound like his own.
It’s Jaskier’s turn to look shocked now, for a moment. “You’re just saying that because you feel bad,” he mutters.
“I have loved you for years, since the time you almost got carried off by a cockatrice. Before that even. I never said anything because I didn’t know if you’d feel the same. I didn’t want you to leave because you didn’t feel the same about me.” Geralt confesses.
“I never knew… all this time?” Geralt silently nods in response. “Lately I’ve been thinking about you, and us, and I realized that my heart belongs to you. Now I know I run off and say I’m in love quite a lot but I always come back to you, because I could never imagine my life without you. And the more I thought about it the more I couldn’t bear to keep it in a moment longer, I had to tell you, even if it would ruin everything.”
Geralt looks deeply into his eyes. It feels like he can finally let out a deep breath that he’s been holding in for far too long. There are no words that can express what he’s feeling, or none that come to mind at least. Instead he slowly leans closer, giving Jaskier a chance to pull away, but he doesn’t. Jaskier closes the gap between them and their lips meet. Finally.
It’s not a hurried kiss all frantic with lust. It’s gentle, and a little wet from Jaskier’s tear soaked cheeks. This kiss feels more incredible than any Geralt has had before, probably because he’s been waiting for it for so long. When they break apart they share a smile, and Geralt tenderly wipes the rest of the tears from Jaskier’s face.
The silence around them is comforting, so unlike a few minutes ago when the tension was hanging in the air between them.
“You dickhead,” Jaskier lightly punches his shoulder without warning.
“What?”
“You just told me last week that we aren’t even friends!”
All Geralt can do is laugh. Jaskier continues to give him an offended look, although a smile does creep up onto his lips. Geralt leans closer and pulls him in for another kiss, long and slow and soft and sweet.