Okay but listen!
Geralt develops a serious staring problem
And i don’t mean in the way that he stares at people like he already does.
I mean he develops a staring problem when it comes to jaskier.
And at first it’s nothing special, in fact the first time he sees jaskier he doesn’t even notice it’s different. So different and yet so very the same. Doesn’t even notice that he is staring at the bard who is flaying his hips so very skillful, doesn’t even for one second think that that could be the reason that Jaskier comes over to him. Doesn’t even notice that he was staring so hard everyone else noticed.
And it takes him a great while until he figures out that it indeed is different.
It takes him even longer to admit it.
He catches himself staring at Jaskier fingers as they dance over the strings; he tells himself it’s because it annoys him. He tells himself it means nothing.
He catches himself watching Jaskier dance through a crowd, watches his hips as they move to the music; he tells himself it’s just to make sure that Jaskier doesn’t get in trouble. He tells himself it means nothing.
He catches himself staring at Jaskiers lips as they try out new words for songs not yet written; he tells himself it’s because it strains his witcher hearing. Tells himself he doesn’t really enjoy it and wants to hear it every night. Tells himself it means nothing.
Until eventually his eyes stay glued to Jaskier at all times. The moment they depart and all the moments before. All. The. Time.
But Geralt still doesn’t want to admit it’s more, it’s different than just being attentive, just careful, just protective. He tells himself it’s his free will to stare, that it’s not because Jaskiers skilled fingers are bewitching, not because his hips are hypnotizing, not because Jaskiers lips make him want to leap out of his seat and press his own against them.
It’s definitely not that.
Absolutely not.
The fact that his skin tingles anytime Jaskier touches it also means nothing. Absolutely nothing.
What he can admit however is that there is one thing he stares at on Jaskier. He can admit this one thing is pretty. Because everyone says that. Because so often it’s just for him.
Jaskiers smiles are the one thing Geralt won’t look away from. Never. Not when they are thrown his way from across the tavern, not when they are thrown his way at all. Sometimes he almost smiles too.
Of course he’d never admit that. Not to Jaskier, not to anyone. His staring is absolutely normal! Everyone thinks Jaskiers smiles make the whole world brighter and more colourful. Everyone thinks they are the one thing that needs to be protected at all cost, more than any kingdom. Everyone thinks that. For sure.
So he keeps staring. Notices more and more how much he truly does but still, still! Doesn’t admit it’s unusual. He can’t. He knows too well what it means.
And when finally, finally! Jaskier makes a move on him (yes Jaskier makes a move and Geralt will deny it to his dying breath but he was never brave enough) one would think it gets better.
It doesn’t.
In fact, Geralts staring problem becomes even worse.
Not just when they share a night together and Geralt physically stops everything just to stare at Jaskiers squirming body beneath him, stares at every inch and every little curve as if trying to memorize everything, as if he’s watching a masterpiece. And Jaskier can’t help but squirm. Because Geralt is staring at him and god forbid he has caught Geralt doing that numerous times but never, never has Geralt looked at him like this. Never looked at him alone, when it was just them, when he couldn’t escape. But now he was and fuck it was definitely hot.
„You are beautiful“ he’d say, now finally allowed to say what he has been thinking every time he stared, finally allowed to admit it.
And Jaskier will squirm, unsure how to react. but god to Geralt it’s beautiful.
And he can finally grab those hips and kiss those lips and feel those fingers intertwined with his. And they feel even better than he had ever imagined. Make him burn with desire, burn with lust and his heart swells, overflows, because he can finally touch what he has been staring, longing for since the very beginning.
A witchers memory is good.
He will forever remember every edge and every inch of Jaskier. Will always know that Jaskiers smile is a little crooked and his eyes are not just blue but the colour of polished sapphire and his skin is all soft and pale and so very perfect to mark.
He’ll forever know every inch.
And yet he keeps staring, even worse now than before.
Because now when Jaskier wears a doublet with a wide cut, he can see the markings he made, stare at them openly, proudly, can rub it in everyones faces that yes he did that. Yes the bard is his.
Now when Jaskier smiles his direction, he can smile back, just a tiny smile, nothing big but he can and he will. Because Jaskier is smiling because of him too and he can smile because of Jaskier.
Because now when Jaskier is dancing through the crowd, Geralt is the only one who knows what those hips look like beneath the trousers they are tucked in. He is the only one who knows that they are bruised, bruised in a very good way, and that they will later that night be bruised even more.
Geralt develops a serious staring problem.
Because now that the bard is his and he is the bard‘s, now he can stare. Now he is finally, finally allowed too.
And it’s not absolutely nothing.
It’s absolutely everything.
And he is finally allowed to stare.
And piercing blue eyes stare back.
