38. swinging hands back and forth, skipping like children
My dear, this was an absolute delight to write. Thank you for prompting me, and I hope you find this as entertaining as I do!
And with this, we kick of the Hand holding series! Please enjoy!
On Ao3 Hand holding prompt collection
Send me a hand holding prompt?
“What are they doing?”
“Who?”
“The kids? Is that a dance? I have seen them do it before but I don’t get it. Only children seem to do it.”
“.... Geralt. Don’t you know what skipping is?”
They look at each other, both wearing a frown, which is saying something. Geralt, because he really doesn’t understand, and Jaskier, because, well.
For someone who knows as much as Geralt does, it's very strange that he knows nothing about skipping.
Maybe it isn’t actually strange, it has been many many years since Geralt was a child himself, and he spends more time around monsters and politicians than children.
But Jaskier won’t stand for this.
“I won’t stand for this,” Jaskier decides. “Come on, Geralt. We are going skipping.”
Which felt incredibly weird to say, and he has a feeling it is about to be even weirder to do.
So Jaskier leads Geralt some ways away to an area a bit more isolated.
He is a renowned bard after all, and he will not teach Geralt how to skip in the middle of town. Well. Village. Well. Settlement. Well.
Among these farmers.
He will not.
Geralt follows Jaskier to the outskirts of the fields of wheat and rye, to where the grass grows high and the flowers bloom freely.
A perfect place to skip, actually.
Jaskier nods to himself. This will do.
Thus he turns to the witcher, whom he is about to take under his wing and teach the way of frollicing. Crossing his arms, he looks Geralt up and down.
“Are you ready?” he asks seriously.
“For what?”
“For what we are about to do.”
“No.”
“Oh yes. Geralt, I will teach you how to skip. Are you ready.”
“I’m content with knowing what it is, bard.”
Oh, bard, is it?
“How will you claim to know without knowing, Geralt? Do I claim to know swordsmanship because I know what a sword looks like? Do I claim to be a priest because I know what a holy book looks like? No, Geralt, I do not.”
The sigh coming from the witcher is nothing short of impressive, but Jaskier hears no protest.
“Come along, witcher. And get those swords off your back, they will only be in the way.”
Geralt frowns, but does as he is told. A small victory.
“Alright, we will start easy,” Jaskier begins. "The secret of skipping is the arms, and the bounce.”
The way Geralt looks at him, and Jaskier knows the struggle of keeping a straight face.
“Look at the way I do it,” Jaskier says, pushing his self restraint to the limits. He has to keep himself from laughing, this is a serious matter.
So Jaskier takes a breath, and skips a few steps, only to turn around and skip his way back.
“See what I did with my arms?” Jaskier asks, doing it again in slow and exaggerated movements. “It’s what brings the spring to the step.”
“You look ridiculous.”
“Thank you. Now you.”
For a long moment, Geralt studies Jaskier, his arms crossed defensively in front of him, but finally he steps up next to Jaskier.
His arms are bent stiffly at his sides, as if he is going for a jog, but the skip itself is performed expertly.
Oh gods, Jaskier, keep it together. Julian Alfred Pankratz, you keep that smile off your face. Geralt turns with a little spin, and skips stiffly all the way back to Jaskier.
“Like that?”
“Close.” Good boy, Jaskier, good bard. Keeping it together. You can do it. “You have to relax your arms more! Do it again!”
Geralt does it again, his arms a little lower, his hands still clenched into fists. This time Jaskier can’t help but to smirk when Geralt returns to him.
“You know what? I’ll help you. It’s more fun to do it together anyway.”
Without hesitating, Jaskier takes Geralt’s hand.
“Come on!”
Jaskier pulls Geralt along as they skip across the grass, swinging their hands back and forth.
This time he allows himself to smile freely, even laughing, as he frolics with Geralt through the field of flowers.
This is something he never imagined ever to happen, but here he is.
Instructing Geralt on how to skip.
“Relax your arm more, Geralt! Like this!” Jaskier says, waving his arm and mid-skip, he turns to look at Geralt.
A Mistake.
Jaskier can’t tell if the rosiness of Geralt’s cheeks are from embarrassment or from actually having fun, but their eyes meet and the stupid witcher man gives him a stupid stupid smirk and Jaskier’s foot catches in a tuft of grass and he falls forward, his free arm waving wildly.
He falls face first, pure reflex is making him grip Geralt’s hand tighter. And being mid-skip is doing shit-nothing for either of their balance, so Geralt falls with him, on him.
He groans, face pressed into the grass and the dirt, the weight of a stupid, stupid, beautiful witcher on his back.
“Fuck, Jaskier, this is ridicoulus,” Geralt laughs, his entire body shaking, squishing Jaskier even worse.
“Roll off of me,” Jaskier wheezes, but laughing too.
“I can’t believe this,” Geralt sounds out of breath, not attempting to move at all, the absolute bastard.
Alright, Jaskier would like to live. And to see that laugh. Time to squirm.
Somewhat successfully, he manages to at least turn around, but that only leaves him trapped in Geralt’s arms.
The sun lights up Geralt’s hair like a halo, his cheeks flushed red and eyes watery from laughing too hard.
Jaskier can only stare up at him in awe. This is when he realizes they are still holding hands.
“Well now you know what skipping is. And how it’s done,” Jaskier says, trying to distract himself from the impulse of kissing him. Hold it together, Jaskier.
“I do,” the beautiful bastard agrees, smiling down at him. “And we are never doing it again.”
Yes they will. Jaskier will absolutely make sure they will.
