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Jaskier sips at his wine. He pets at Roach’s nose, kisses her snout. “You are so sweet, and you keep all my secrets,” he says. Roach flares her nostrils in response.
“Jaskier!” Ciri calls from the barn’s doorway.
“Yes, love?”
Her braid is falling over her right shoulder. When the fuck has she gotten so big ? Eskel has been teaching them both to drive. Of course Ciri is better at it than him.
“They’re looking for you in the main house.”
“I suppose it’s time for the birthday boy to make an appearance. Lead the way,” Jaskier replies.
*
Jaskier has been planning his own thirtieth birthday party for about six months. It’ll happen in another two weeks, and a lot of rather famous people will be there. Lots of journalists, musicians, a couple actors he’s made friends with.
But none of them are allowed here.
Tonight is just for family, and tonight, Jaskier has no idea what’s in store.
When he gets to the main house, he finds a rather large red velvet cake waiting for him, as well as all the people he loves most crammed into the kitchen, streamers and glitter covering far too many surfaces. Vesemir is going to kill them all, though he’s also joining in, smiling at Jaskier as he enters.
They all look so wonderful, all happy to be here for him. He might have millions of adoring fans but it feels like nothing in comparison to the warmth in the room now, these people who have welcomed him so enthusiastically into their lives.
“Is all of this for me, then?” Jaskier asks.
“Obviously,” Yennefer says, then throws him the biggest smile.
Geralt comes close, wrapping an arm around his waist. “Happy birthday,” he says, kissing Jaskier’s temple.
Essi comes towards the cake with a lighter, sparking it and letting the flame catch the wick of the big THREE ZERO.
“Make a wish,” Essi says.
Jaskier doesn’t have to.
*
There are gifts Jaskier opens, (like the rubber chicken from Lambert, and the leatherbound handmade notebook from Triss), cake to eat (that Ciri all but inhales, getting frosting on her upper lip), and drinks to drink (Coen refills Jaskier’s wine glass twice, pulling him in for a hug the second time).
“Jask,” Geralt says, taking his hand. “Do you want to go out to the pond?”
Jaskier brings his wine to his lips, then nods albeit a little confused. “I could use some air, actually,” he says softly. “Lead the way.”
*
Geralt leads them out to the pond. At this time of evening, when the sun is setting, the ducks have gone to bed and the water is absolutely still. Jaskier sits on one of the uneven rocks near the edge of the water, cupping his glass of wine in one hand as he takes in the scenery.
“Gods, I love being out here,” Jaskier says. He feels so lucky, so grateful. His life, in this moment, is so utterly perfect that it feels like he’s in a dream that belongs to his past self. He’s an incredibly successful musician in a band with his best friends. He’s in a relationship with the most wonderful man he’s ever met, who also just so happens to be unbelievably good looking (he can be a bit shallow about it, from time to time). He’s got himself a little family, all these beautiful people who care for him and want him happy. He’s so young, and older than he’s ever been, and his heart pulls violently in his chest. He pictures himself ten years ago, busking in coffee shops and sleeping with strangers because he felt too lonely not to. His life feels too big for him.
He turns away from the water.
Geralt is kneeling in the grass. But it’s not just kneeling. It’s… he’s only down on the one knee, and his eyes are huge and anxious like that time Jaskier’s phone had died after a show and Geralt had made himself sick with worry.
“Geralt?” Jaskier asks. Geralt’s worry is wearing off on him. Should he be worried?
“Jask,” Geralt croaks out. He’s breathing heavy. He clears his throat. He’s so anxious but there’s no sign of trouble.
“Baby, what is it? What am I missing? Is something wrong?” Jaskier takes a sip of wine, looks around them. “Truly my love, you’re giving me the willies.”
Geralt’s eyes are so big, his throat working, trying to get his words right. He reaches into his back pocket and reveals a small black box.
But that can’t--
“You know better than anyone that I’m pretty awful with words.”
Jaskier scoffs. “That’s not true. You just haven’t got a lot of them. It means more when you speak.”
Geralt laughs. He clears his throat again.
“You’re my best friend, and I’m… I’m safe with you. So safe. And I. Uh, I didn’t actually know it was possible to be this happy.”
“Oh, holy fuck,” Jaskier blurts.
Geralt barks out a laugh. “I’m not finished, actually.”
“Sorry, sorry, yes, just… holy fuck.” His eyes are already stinging.
“You make me better,” Geralt continues. He looks away for a moment, wets his bottom lip. When he looks back at Jaskier he’s smiling, but his hands shake around the ring box. “You’re so big. Everything about you is so unbelievably enormous and it scares me. But I want to be a part of it. I want to be there for the rest of it.”
Well, good. Now Jaskier is crying in earnest. He wipes stupidly at his eyes with his thumbs. He’s glad the ducks aren’t around to see this.
Geralt is so beautiful. He’s so nervous, so terribly nervous, even though he has no reason to be.
“Jaskier, will you marry me?”
His hazel eyes are so sharp and open, waiting.
Jaskier inhales sharply, brings his hands up to cover his mouth.
Is this actually happening? He presses his knuckles to his lips, trying to still the trembling at his mouth and his hands.
“Geralt?” He asks stupidly, as if Geralt isn’t staring at him, kneeling in front of him and so horrendously vulnerable.
Geralt takes one of his hands away from the ring box and puts his hand on Jaskier’s knee. “Yeah?”
“Are you… Are you sure ?” Jaskier blurts.
Geralt tilts his head, looking one part exasperated, two parts plain relief. “Of course I’m sure.”
Jaskier stares at the ring. It’s…frankly, ridiculous. The band is gold, and then around it are layers of yellow and turquoise diamonds that catch light in the setting sun. It’s stunning, and he feels briefly deeply unworthy of such a thing. But then he swallows down any self doubt. Geralt has chosen him, and wants to continue to choose him for the rest of their lives. Maybe he does deserve something this beautiful. Something as beautiful as Geralt.
“It’s absolutely gorgeous,” Jaskier breathes. He’s afraid to touch the ring, like he’s not allowed, as though it’s not for him.
Geralt clears his throat. “I tried to make it something you’d like.”
“I do like it, I love it, I love you, you incredible man.” Jaskier’s vision blurs in full. And oh fuck, he’s crying audibly now, and it’s loud and obnoxious and a problem.
“Tell me what you’re thinking,” Geralt says, still kneeling and open and waiting for Jaskier.
“Yes,” Jaskier blurts. “As if it’s actually a question. Of course I want to marry you. You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me, all of my songs are about you, and you’re the best person I’ve ever met you absolute, and utter cock. Yes, I’d marry you right now if I could,” Jaskier says, and his voice breaks on the last sentence, because how could it not? He didn’t think he’d ever have this, didn’t think he’d ever want this. “Why aren’t you kissing me?” He demands, flings his arms out for Geralt to fall into.
And Geralt does.
Geralt is crushing himself against Jaskier. Jaskier is held so tight, his body flexing under the weight of the love of his life, his body melting into the other’s like it has a hundred times before.
He wraps his arms around Geralt’s neck, just needing to hold. He can feel how Geralt is shaking against him.
“What are you shaking for, did you ever doubt me ?” Jaskier asks, still pressing himself cheek to cheek against Geralt.
“I was so afraid I’d scare you off, that you’d say no.”
“How dare you, I love you so entirely, how could you think that?”
“Jaskier, you’re a celebrity.”
“Yeah? So?!” He demands, pushing a little back off Geralt’s shoulder so that he can look into his eyes.
“So I’m not, so you have--”
“I’m going to tell you a secret, sweetheart.” Jaskier leans back a little so that he can look into Geralt’s eyes when he says “Being yours is the best thing that’s ever happened to me. Including being famous.”
Geralt leans back, shock coloring his face. His brows pull together in confusion. “That’s… that’s not--”
“It is. And if you don’t like it, tough. It’s true.” He sighs happily, then looks back at the ring. “Well, put it on me!”
Geralt laughs and does as he’s asked. He slips the ring on the fourth finger of Jaskier’s hand. They both stare at it for a moment.
“It looks good,” Geralt says.
“It looks fucking fantastic,” Jaskier corrects.
Geralt blinks rapidly, then leans into Jaskier to kiss him again.
After long minutes, Jaskier pulls away gently. “You want to know the funniest part?”
“What?”
“I have something to show you, let’s go to the cottage.”
***
Jaskier rummages through his sock drawer, reaching all the way back until he finds his own ring box. He holds it out in his right palm, waiting.
Geralt scoffs. “Did you really?”
“Open it, you bastard,” Jaskier says, biting down on his smile.
Geralt opens the ring box.
And there sits the ring Jaskier bought months ago. It’s a plain gold band, because Geralt would never go for anything too showy.
“Take it out of the box, flip it over,” Jaskier says. So Geralt does.
Jaskier did think he was pretty clever for it, all things considered.
Inscribed on the inside of the ring is the date they first kissed, because Jaskier is a big fat giant romantic sap at the end of the day.
“I had been thinking, during our upcoming vacation to Rome, I was going to let you look at architecture and museums all day to lull you into a false sense of security. And then bam! Proposal! And then I would have made you go to a nightclub because I’m awful and would have needed champagne to be poured all over me to celebrate.”
Geralt laughs. “It’s perfect.”
“I know it’s my birthday party and all, and we have a somewhat large amount of guests waiting for me, but I’d really like to make love to you this very instant,” Jaskier says. “We can join the rest of them later. They’re good at entertaining themselves.”
Geralt laughs again. “Twist my arm,” he says, pulling Jaskier close by the waist.
Jaskier wastes no time at all, getting exactly what he wants.
*
A little over an hour later they head back to the party. Laughter and loud conversation is bleeding out of the main house onto the yard. He can hear Renfri and Lambert engaged in a shouting match, arguing over which of them can shotgun a beer the fastest. Ciri is eating her second piece of cake, sitting next to Eskel and Coen on the porch. Essi is sitting with Triss, and when she looks up and meets Jaskier’s eyes, he feels the intense desire to run to her. She can see that something has happened, because she stands up and begins walking towards him.
They meet in the middle of the yard, Essi standing a foot in front of them.
“What is it?” She breathes.
Jaskier looks to Geralt briefly, who squeezes his hand and then releases.
“We may have a bit of celebrating to do,” Jaskier tells her. He can’t keep the smile off his face. He holds out his left hand so she can see the enormity of what’s happened.
She inhales sharply, then covers her mouth with both hands. “ Julek,” She whispers behind her palms. He can see the tears forming. There’s been quite a bit of crying this evening, and it’s clear that it’s only going to get worse.
Essi’s face crumples, her eyebrows pinching together, and then she lets out a single sob. She shoves at Geralt’s shoulder. He doesn’t move, of course, but he does take her hand and squeeze.
“I did ask you for your blessing first,” Geralt says to her. “You can’t be all that shocked.”
“I didn’t know it was going to be today!” She says, though it’s more of a high pitched howl through her tears. She squeezes Geralt’s hand back, then releases, and throws her arms around Jaskier.
He lifts her, his arms wrapped around her middle. He hears her sniffle into the crook of his neck. He puts her down, tucks a strand of blond hair behind her left ear. “You kept such a secret from me.”
“For good reason,” she replies. “Now go find the others.”
*
Telling the rest of the party is a blur. Geralt spends long minutes getting teased by his brothers, then hugs each of them. Vesemir comes close, says something to Geralt that Jaskier can’t hear.
Priscilla is already rather drunk, but she does hug Jaskier hard enough to bruise.
“Were you shotgunning beers with Renfri?”
“We were doing more than that,” she says with a giggle.
“You’re terrible. I’m so pleased.”
As though she heard her name, Renfri appears, hand on her cocked hip. “I knew you were a keeper, J.”
“If only I could say the same for you,” he teases.
She punches him in the shoulder, just hard enough that he knows it’ll be sore in the morning.
*
“Hey,” Ciri says, a smirk that reminds him of Yennefer playing on her lips.
“Hello, dearest,” Jaskier replies. He feels nervous now, as though he never got her blessing.
Ciri looks at him with big green eyes, smiling so happily. And then her lower lip wobbles and she throws herself into his arms. Jaskier holds her close, kisses the top of her head.
“Don’t you start,” Jaskier says. “You’ll make me cry, and I really can’t do any more of that. It’s getting ridiculous.”
She only squeezes him tighter.
*
Jaskier rounds the corner to sneak a second piece of cake. When he enters the kitchen he finds Yennefer with her arms wrapped around Geralt’s middle, her head resting on his shoulder. Geralt says something softly to her, which makes her hit his shoulder lightly and laugh, then go back to holding him close. They look to be having a moment that’s not meant for even Jaskier’s eyes. He forgets the cake and instead creeps back out towards the porch.
*
Eventually the crying fest dies down, and the party resumes.
“Oh, we should spray the two of you with champagne!” Renfri says, eyes lighting up.
Lambert smirks, elbows Renfri. “I saw a bottle on ice in there, I can go snag it.”
“Do not even think about it,” Yennefer says, smiling with too many teeth. She’s still so scary. “I bought that special for them.”
“Awe, you’re no fun,” Lambert says.
It turns out Yen got far more than one bottle of champagne. Glasses are passed around, and Yennefer is careful to give Ciri a glass of sparkling cider, though Ciri pouts a bit about it. Jaskier grins. He was far worse at her age.
The party makes its way out onto the porch, everyone nursing their glasses of champagne, Jaskier making Eskel refill his glass twice.
“It is my birthday after all. Our engagement is so minor in comparison.”
“I suppose I can pretend that’s the case,” Eskel says as he delivers a fresh glass of champagne. “We did put Geralt up to this you know, we plan on taking your money. That’s why Yennefer agreed to be your lawyer.”
“Wait,” Jaskier says. “Are you just marrying me for my money?”
“I had hoped you wouldn’t notice,” Geralt deadpans.
***
It’s just a little after midnight. Geralt has gone inside to help Eskel and Coen start cleaning up. Jaskier suspects that Lambert, Priscilla, and Renfri have gone off somewhere to smoke. Essi has Ciri’s head in her lap as she nurses a glass of white wine while chatting with Triss.
Yennefer approaches, holding two glasses of Merlot. She holds one out to Jaskier.
“Thank you, witch,” he says, leaning against the porch railing.
“You’re welcome bard.” Her smile is warm. She lets out a sigh. “Big day, wasn’t it?”
“Oh, quite possibly the biggest,” he agrees.
“I don’t really need to tell you this,” Yen says, “but I’m going to all the same.” She tucks a stray strand of hair behind her ear and takes a sip of wine, then says, “You must be good to him, treat him with great care. He needs it more than most.”
“I know,” Jaskier replies.
“I know you know. I know you’ll do better than me.”
“Yennefer.”
She shrugs. “I love him a lot. I guess I love you a lot too.”
“Yennefer, you’re scaring me, are you going to cry?”
She wipes at her eyes, careful of her makeup. “You will tell no one of this,” she says sternly.
“Not a soul," Jaskier whispers, and then pulls her into a hug, digging his fingers into her back. There's this love of Geralt between them that no one else can quite understand, and it makes his heart clench. "I love you," he breathes into her hair.
She laughs lightly, squeezes his shoulder. "You're so dramatic. You sap."
"You started it."
"I've no idea what you're talking about," she says as she pulls away, then looks at Jaskier and winks. "Now go find your future husband."