Cold fries
Two postings in a day? TWO POSTINGS IN A DAY?
I just couldn't resist, I'm sorry, but I love them....
Oh, also, i changed the lyrics just a little to fit ehehehe. The song is Are you gonna be my girl - Jet, because I love it. Enjoy <3
On Ao3 here
Thursday nights are live band nights, and it is really no telling if there is going to be a good crowd or not.
Definitely better than bingo night and moderately better than quiz night, but still, not everybody wants to leave the house on a Thursday.
The live band playing tonight, The Dan-Dillions, are fairly good. Geralt has seen them play two or three times now, forever scheduled (by himself, Yennefer keeps reminding him) on Thursdays.
The blond girl on drums, Priscilla, is loud and mouthy and always stays until the bar closes. Valdo on bass, on the other hand, stays about 10 minutes after they finish their set and then someone is on his arm and he's gone.
The two lead singers on their guitars, Essi and Jaskier, are more like puppies. Constantly starving; one moment chaotic bouncy energy and the next a starving mess.
Puppies.
The thing is, while Essi runs out to find her food, Jaskier will pester Geralt until he lets him order a serving of fries or something.
And true to their habits, Valdo flirts, Priss drinks, and Essi and Jaskier are more or less climbing on top of each other by the bar, giving Geralt the biggest (most adorable) puppy eyes he has ever seen for another helping of french fries.
Don't tell Yennefer, but Jaskier's pleading eyes regularly have him weak in the knees.
Maybe.
And feel a little fluttery feeling when he stays and the others leave.
Perhaps.0
And feel a little excited spark when he smiles and winks at Geralt from stage.
Possibly.
"Please, please, please, please, please, please, Geralt, we are staaarving" Jaskier whines with Essi more or less hanging over his shoulders and across his back as he leans against the counter.
"It won't be done until it's time for you to go on stage," Geralt deadpans; they both know this, but it doesn't stop Jaskier from pouting, his bottom lip quivering.
"You are ridiculous," Geralt huffs, unable to hide his smile.
"I know. Works like a charm," Essi pipes up, batting her eyelashes. Idiot siblings, the both of them.
"They will be cold when you are done," Geralt reminds them, and Jaskier looks heartbroken.
"Cold fries are the worst," Jaskier says, pouting even harder.
"Are you five years old?" Yennefer throws in from the other side of the bar. "Go put that makeup on!"
"Excuse me, madam!" Jaskier scoffs, all offended lead singer noises. Which are also adorable. Well, Geralt is fucked. "Unlike you, there is a limited amount of eyeliner that I find classy!"
Geralt laughs all loudly, and Yen gives them the finger. Her eyeliner is perfect, but could be considered excessive to some, giving her eyes that 'dark and mysterious look' as she calls it.
When he looks at Jaskier again, he learns what a blush and a surprised 'oh' looks like on his face. Fuck.
Jaskier quickly turns his head, clears his throat and stands up.
"Well, we better get moving then," he announces, and the two of them make their way to the small backstage area, a rather spacious stock room with a couch shoved in against the back wall.
When they emerge again, the room is a little more crowded. Most leave their tables to stand in front of the stage with a beer in their hands.
Some eyeliner still finds its way to Jaskier's eyes, Geralt notes, and his stomach does that happy little flip again.
So very fucked.
"GOOD EVENING, DARLINGS!" Jaskier announces as they stand in front of the microphone. "WE ARE THE DAN-DILLIONS, AND WE ARE HERE TO ROCK YOUR WORLD!"
Priss counts them in, starting with some upbeat pop song they modified from the radio. Essi and Jaskier and Valdo dance across the stage, Priss throwing her hair and showing off her tongue piercing with a wink to the redhead in the corner.
Maybe Priss won't stay until the bar closes tonight.
And with the band starting, Geralt has to kick into bartender mode as well. Live bands are always good for making people buy drinks, if not to loosen up those dance moves, then something to deal with the heat of the room.
Geralt steals another glance towards the stage and yes, he might need a drink himself. Jaskier smiles widely, showing all his teeth as he does, back to back with Valdo as Essi screams out a bouncy punk inspired song that Ciri keeps singing.
That one is going to stick in his mind for a while.
Their eyes meet for a second, just as the song ends, and Jaskier throws him a wink and blows him a kiss.
The band bows, as they like to do, then Priss picks up a tambourine and hands it to Essi.
She claps it in a beat Geralt recognizes all too well, and Valdo picks up the bass line. Jaskier is staring right at him, legs wide and a finger pointed towards the bar.
"This one is for you, handsome," Jaskier says with a wink. "The man with the finest ass on the continent and the best french fries in the business!!"
He what now?
Jaskier clears his throat, just like in the song, the drums start, and the crowd claps.
"SO ONE TWO THREE TAKE MY HAND AND COME WITH ME BECAUSE YOU LOOK SO FINE AND I REALLY WANNA MAKE YOU MINE!" Jaskier sings, holding on to the microphone while the others jump across the stage.
He is a little sweaty now, his bangs sticking to his forehead. His eyeliner is somehow still intact and his arms are crazy defined in the stage lights.
Geralt swallows thickly, feeling heat crawl up his neck.
"I SAID YOU LOOK SO FINE AND I REALLY WANNA MAKE YOU MINE!"
Yennefer comes up next to Geralt, elbows him in the side with a wide grin.
"Pretty boy got a good eye for you too, huh?" she yells into his ear, and Geralt can only answer her with a glare.
Because what? It was always obvious that Jaskier is good looking, but the way he is looking towards Geralt right now, it is just not fair.
"FOUR FIVE SIX COME ON AND GET YOUR KICKS BECAUSE YOU DON'T NEED MONEY WHEN YOU LOOK LIKE THAT, DO YA HONEY?"
The lady in front of him finally gets Geralt's attention back and he pours her a glass of wine, absolutely more than she paid for, but Geralt is distracted, alright?
"BIG BLACK BOOTS. LONG WHITE HAIR. YOU'RE SO SWEET WITH YA, GET BACK STARE!"
The wine sloshes threateningly as Geralt shoves it across the counter. The lady rolls her eyes and returns into the crowd, only to be replaced by some hairy short dude.
"I CAN SEE! YOU HOME WITH ME! BUT YOU ARE WITH SOMEONE EEELSE YEAH!"
The slightly altered lyrics are doing mean things to Geralt's heart, and the short hairy dude will have to wait for Geralt to recover. His bar, his rules, send help.
"I KNOW WE AIN'T GOT, MUCH TO SAY! BEFORE I LET YOU GET AWAYYYY YEAH!"
Jaskier's eyes are closed, the focus and emotion on his face as he belts out the lyrics, it makes Geralt want to do something stupid.
Then Jaskier's eyes suddenly open and focus upon him again, and the finger is yet again pointing towards him.
"I SAID ARE YOU GONNA BE MY GIRL?"
The beat of silence, and then the guitar starts up again, Essi and Jaskier bouncing over the stage again.
But when the second verse starts, Jaskier keeps that intense stare on him, a smirk that is all teeth aimed at him, and it is only now that Geralt realizes Jaskier has painted his nails.
The hairy dude in front of his bar has had enough, slamming his hand against the counter and swearing loudly about misandry and only chicks getting served or some other bullshit, but Geralt makes his Sex on the Beach, swings it over the bar to him, and then it is only him and Jaskier again.
And a crowd, of course.
Luckily for him, there is a small reprieve. Either the customers notice his neglect or they are just as entranced, but Geralt gets to watch Jaskier move his hips and Geralt just wants to put his hands on them.
"I SAID ARE YOU GONNA BE MY GIRL?" Jaskier pants out as the song ends, his lips parted and eyelids heavy.
The crowd claps and whistles and Jaskier takes a deep swallow of his drink, which had been hidden behind one of the speakers. Flushed and happy, he takes a step back for Essi to lead the next song, and Jaskier's eyes find his again.
There is that shy smile that Geralt knows, and a little wave. Lucky for Geralt, three men approach the bar and decide to order a shot tray.
Good timing, because he had half a mind to walk right up to Jaskier and smooch his face.
It's another five songs before the first half of the set is over, and the band takes a break.
They disappear into the back-stage-storage-space, only Priss shoving her way to the bar. The redhead from before is still eyeing her, and Priss is eyeing her right back, but she still approaches Geralt to get drinks.
"How did you like the show?" she asks him knowingly as Geralt pours her the usual and picks up a few bottles of coke for the others.
"Have you practiced since last time? I could actually tell what songs you were playing tonight," Geralt banters, because that is how she is.
Priss snorts, taking a swig out of the glass as soon as Geralt hands it to her and pulls sweaty hair back from her face.
"So you picked up on the song our little songbird picked for you then?"
Geralt has no words, so he pretends to be busy writing down how many drinks the band is getting, but in reality he is blue screening just a little.
It doesn't matter because Priss still smiles knowingly, and with a wink over her shoulder to the redhead, she is off with all the drinks.
The rest of the night passes in a blur.
Faceless customer after faceless customer, Geralt keeps catching Jaskier looking, keeps getting elbowed by Yennefer, and keeps pouring too much into glasses when he is not paying attention.
All in all, it's a good night, better than it's been in a while, and when the band gets off the stage for the last time, Geralt makes up his mind.
He pops into the kitchen, looking at Renfri doing the dishes with a frown.
"Hey. You want a promotion?"
Renfri looks up with him with surprise. Hey, look at that! Almost as much eyeliner as Yennefer.
"Cover the bar for me. Need to run out for a bit."
"Finally getting your head out of your ass?" she teases, drying off her hands and throwing the stained apron to the side.
"Already fucking up a promotion?" Geralt teases right back, but she walks out to the bar and gives Yennefer a heated look.
A-ha.
After a quick detour, Geralt grabs his leather jacket from his office and goes towards the backstage slash storage room.
He knocks on the door before he can change his mind, and Valdo opens it with a smirk.
"Well look at that, it worked." He leers, stepping aside to let Geralt in.
Instead of joining them, Geralt leans against the door frame, instantly questioning every decision that led him here. But Jaskier is right there on the couch, his eyes wide with another flush climbing his neck and cheeks.
"May I borrow Jaskier for a moment?" he asks, because there is no way he is doing this in front of all of them.
Jaskier frees himself from Essi, who has draped herself all over the couch and his lap, stands up and comes closer.
"You may. Do I need my jacket too?"
Geralt nods, and Jaskier turns to grab his jean jacket, old and worn and obviously well-loved.
When he turns, the fabric of his trousers does very nice things to the shaping of his butt, and Geralt takes the moment to sneak a peek.
A mistake, he realizes too late, as all eyes of the band are upon him. Priss grins at him again.
Jaskier gives her a questioning look, but she waves him off.
"Play nice, boys," she says, blowing them a kiss, earning herself a glare from Jaskier.
They shut the door quickly behind them, and Geralt realizes he never really stepped back. For one charged moment, Geralt is tempted to just push into Jaskier's space and do that reckless thing he can't stop thinking about.
But no. He has a plan. Almost.
Geralt leads them out of the bar, out to the little parking lot. It is cold, the air still making little clouds as they breathe.
They lean back against the brick wall for a moment, the silence so loud it makes his ears ring with it.
"So," Jaskier says, dipping his chin and looking up at Geralt. "What did you think of the show this week? Three words or less."
Geralt turns his head to look at Jaskier, his nose already red from the cold. He feels himself smiling, reaching out to tug Jaskier's collar a little higher.
By accident, his thumb touches that oh so flushed cheek, and it is very hard to retrieve his hand again.
It is one thing to flirt from the stage, another thing entirely to actually let it go somewhere.
Fuck, maybe this was a bad idea.
But Jaskier is looking at him intently, biting his lip as if he too is holding back from doing something stupid.
"You looked good," he manages, and Jaskier's eyebrows rise.
"Only 'looked'? Geralt, I'm a musician. Please tell me how I-...We sound too."
"You need to practice outside the bar too, you know," Geralt jibes, only so he can hear that offended-lead-singer-gasp again.
Just as predicted, Jaskier gasps with mock outrage, and maybe just a little honest outrage too, one never knows with lead singers.
"So rude! You ask me to come out here, to what? Insult my very essence?!" Jaskier shoves at Geralt's chest, and Geralt catches his hand, holds it there.
"Never said it was bad," he amends with a low murmur, gently tracing those cold knuckles.
Jaskier makes no move to get his hand back, just bites at his lip again. It feels odd to be touching. To finally feel that soft skin under his fingers.
Unreal. It almost feels like he could lean in, and just...
"I brought fries," he remembers suddenly, and Jaskier blinks a few times. "You wanted fries. Warm ones."
"I... did, yes," Jaskier smiles, and accepts the little box that Geralt had hid with some difficulty in his jacket.
His chest feels cold without Jaskier's hand there, but he is cured when Jaskier brings a fry up to his lips.
"Want one?" he murmurs, and Geralt lets himself be fed, fingertips brushing against his lips. Heat curls again in his chest, but no, he has to stick to the plan.
He won't let it distract him.
"You brought me out here to eat french fries and insult my singing?" Jaskier asks, plopping another fry in his mouth. "Gods, how do you make them so good? These are sinful!"
"No," Geralt says, having a hard time to keep his thoughts on track. "I wanted to know something."
"Mhm."
"On stage, you... did you mean it?" Geralt asks, infinitely braver than he actually feels.
Jaskier is watching him, chewing thoughtfully and swallowing before he replies.
"Depends. Is there someone else? Because I don't like my heart broken," Jaskier says, holding up another french fry to Geralt's mouth.
He takes it again, this time purposely pressing into Jaskier's fingertips, their eyes still locked on each other.
There is an awkward pause, because Geralt doesn't want to reply with his mouth full.
"Should have planned that better." Jaskier laughs breathily. "Chew faster."
Geralt smirks and chews slowly on purpose, taking a step closer to Jaskier. When he is finally done, Jaskier's eyes shining with such naked hope, there is little he can do.
"No one else," he manages, then he takes the box of fries out of Jaskier's hands and puts it-- somewhere, he doesn't care, but it is out of their hands and then his hands are on Jaskier's hips, and they are turning and Jaskier is pressed back against the wall and then Geralt is kissing him and Jaskier's hands are in his hair and oh.
The tip of Jaskier's nose is cold as it touches his cheek. His hands are warm, though, burning through the fabric of his shirt as Jaskier again presses his hands to Geralt's chest, touching, exploring.
The plan, damnit, the plan, this was not it. As much as he likes it, as much as he fucking loves those little happy sounds, he wants to hear something else first.
He pulls back, just an inch, and Jaskier chases after the kiss, stealing another one before they part. They share the air for a moment, regaining control of themselves.
"That was nice," Jaskier whispers, his eyes still closed, and Geralt knocks their foreheads together.
"Ask me again? From the song?" he clarifies when Jaskier looks at him questioningly.
"Oh. Geralt. Are you gonna be my girl?" Jaskier grins.
"I am," Geralt confirms, and then there is another quick kiss, and Geralt chases Jaskier's lips for another.
"My fries are cold now," Jaskier pouts.
"My fries are better than my kisses?" Geralt asks, and Jaskier looks at him like it is genuinely hard to answer that. He gives in to the urge, kissing that pout away, and Jaskier doesn't seem to mind.
"I'll make you a new batch," Geralt promises, and they lean against each other against the wall, just holding on to each other.
"My hero," Jaskier sighs dramatically, swooning against Geralt.
Pulling apart is strange. Despite the heated kisses, reaching out to hold Jaskier's hand takes more out of Geralt, now that they are... whatever they are.
They will figure it out, he thinks, as Jaskier laces their fingers together and they return to the warmth of the bar.
There is still work to do, no matter what happened out there.
There is still the promise of tomorrow.
