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2021-01-19
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2022-02-08
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2/2
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Sensate Focus

Summary:

Geralt and Jaskier are trying to patch up their relationship in couples therapy and their therapist suggests a hands on homework assignment.
or
I force Geralt into a Sensate Touching exercise and Jaskier has to stay quiet lmao

Notes:

listen, i fixated on this bit in my human sexuality class what can I say 🤷♀️
Sensate Focus is an exercise developed by Masters and Johnson (the OG sex researchers in psychology) to help couples get used to physical intimacy without the end goal of sex. It's used to help with things like ED and 'spectatoring' and fostering/recreating the intimacy that comes with sex in a long term relationship.
It's also super fucking vulnerable so of course I wanted to use it to make Geralt cry lol

Chapter 1

Chapter Text

“You want us to what?” 

“Come on, Geralt. You said you’d try.”

“I- no. Just- why? What’s the point?”

Both Geralt and Jaskier turned to their therapist, each equally confused and a little scared. 

The tiny woman kept her face completely impassive and answered his question, “The exercise helps people get out of their heads and reacquaint themselves with, not only being open with their partner, but also slowing down and enjoying touch for touch sake. Without being so focused on the end goal of sex or pleasing a partner, people can begin to refocus on the connection attachment theorists claim is the underlying motivation for sex without reproduction in the first place.”

Geralt swallowed hard. This was for him and he knew it. He’d said it himself, he was fucking terrified of failure and rejection and that absolutely extended to Jaskier. His husband. Of five years. Who’d been with him for ten. Logically it made no fucking sense, but the woman with the PhD had told him this was rather normal for a child of divorce as if he’d said he didn’t like horseradish sauce. He didn’t see how being scared of your spouse secretly hating you was normal in the slightest. 

He glanced over at Jaskier who sat at the other end of the black leather sofa picking at his nails. When they’d gotten married they’d laze around all day just holding each other and talking. It was safe and sweet and Geralt couldn’t for the life of him remember how it was tainted.

“Alright,” he grunted, “What’re the rules again?”

-

The next afternoon they’d carved out an hour and a half with no distractions, no phones, not even any music to Jaskier’s dismay. Apparently that was against the ‘guidelines - not rules’. 

They stood in their bedroom, lights dimmed and curtains drawn, as much for the ambiance as for the privacy. Geralt felt his stomach flip flop as he stepped out of his clothes, feeling a bit ridiculous. It’s not as if this was the first time they’d seen each other naked, but it was the first time they were to spend ‘as much time as necessary’ -whatever that meant- touching each other, one at a time. 

Jaskier dropped his clothes in the laundry bin and stood with his arms crossed, almost like he was hiding, “Right. So… Do you want to go first? Maybe go over things again?”

“Do you want to go first?” Geralt asked, immediately drawing his bottom lip between his teeth to gnaw at the peeling skin. 

“I just want to know why you look so scared, to be honest,” Jaskier breathed. 

Geralt took a deep breath, reminding himself that he wasn’t the only one being vulnerable here, “Not scared. Just nervous.”

“Rules then?”

Geralt nodded, “No talking. No, uh, erogenous zones. No sex. No kissing. If you don’t like something or it’s a big turn on or it tickles, move the other person’s hand.” the weight in his chest lessened a little bit, this really was simple. Just touching Jask. Something he’d done a million times. Hell, he might not even get anything out of it. He didn’t need to be so damned worried about things going wrong. 

“If you get overwhelmed think about temperature and texture and how it feels. Don’t think about what the other person is thinking or feeling. The only bit that matters is moving their hand,” Jaskier added, his posture relaxing ever so slightly as he rocked up on his toes and back down.

Geralt stepped a little closer, holding out his pinky finger, “We don’t stay still if we don’t like something.” He said it more to reassure Jaskier than anything. 

Jask hooked his pinky around Geralt’s and smiled, “No barreling through,” he agreed. 

“Can I, uhm… go first?” Geralt kept their pinkies hooked together as he let their hands hang between them. 

Jaskier looked surprised, but nodded fervently, “Of course!”

“Okay,” Geralt pulled his hand back and ran it through his hair before stepping a bit closer, hovering both of his hands over Jaskier’s shoulders, “So I just-?”

Jaskier nodded and whispered, “No talking, love.” 

Geralt let out an amused huff, the irony of the words bringing a soft smile to his face. He took a deep breath in and slowly let it out as he placed his hands over Jaskier’s arms. 

Sensations. He could do this. He was doing this.

Jaskier’s arms were soft, both in texture and in feel, giving way to Geralt’s fingers ever so slightly when he squeezed. He trailed his hands down over Jaskier’s elbows, noting the patches of dry skin over the joints that Jask had been scandalized by in college. His forearms had more hair, but it was softer than Geralt’s, silky even, and nice to touch. Geralt trailed his fingers down Jaskier’s wrist and back up, watching as the little hairs stood on end but seemed to stick to the pads of his fingers as he moved past them. When he noticed the goosebumps he glanced up to Jaskier with mild panic in his eyes, worried he’d already fucked it up and made him uncomfortable. But his husband just nodded, a light smile on his lips. 

Temperature. Back to task.

Geralt picked up Jaskier’s hand, holding it in one of his as he skimmed his fingers over his knuckles and calluses. His palms were warmer than the back of his hand and it seemed every spot where his skin had built up from use was just a tad colder than the thinner skin next to it. 

He gently guided Jaskier’s hand back down and trailed his hand up his arm, ghosting his fingers over his collar bone. He thought about how much softer this skin was, and how it made the butterflies in his stomach go wild as he moved back and forth over the spot a few times. He liked the pleasant little pitfall of his stomach, not arousal but not unlike it, just a little higher in his abdomen and lighter. He moved his other hand to mirror his movements on Jaskier’s other shoulder, palms soon coming to rest over his chest almost on their own. 

Geralt was so aware of his hands they almost felt numb. It made him think of one of those motor skills brain maps where it showed how much of your brain was devoted to moving which part of your body. Those huge chunks devoted to his hands must have been screaming. 

Jaskier gasped as a bit of his chest hair got caught in Geralt’s ring as he swept his hands downward. Geralt gave him an apologetic look but just got a grin and slight shake of his head in return instead of the shock he expected. 

Geralt continued, moving his hands in slow circles over Jaskier’s abdomen and hips and flanks, marveling at the warmth he felt not only under his hands but spreading through his chest. He let his hands rest above Jaskier’s hips, just at the bottom of his ribs and watched as his hands slowly moved apart and back together in time with Jaskier’s breath. It looked like such a small movement, but when he closed his eyes he felt like he was throwing his arms wide open. He tried matching his breathing to Jaskier’s, but that was close to overwhelming, so he moved on, refocusing on the texture and thickness of his chest hair as he moved up to his neck. 

One of his hands stayed resting on Jaskier’s chest as his other brushed up the side of his neck with the backs of his fingers. Even with such light pressure he could feel the thick ropes of muscle and tendons under his skin. It was warmer over his pulse point and Geralt’s breath hitched when he felt the little thump of a heartbeat under his fingers. He closed his eyes for a moment, surprised to find himself taking a deep breath, not out of fear or frustration, but to sink into the feeling as much as he could. He counted the beats, making a note of how comforting the feeling was. The longer he held his fingers in place, the softer the beats became, until they leveled out to a soft and steady thrum. 

When Geralt opened his eyes the beats picked up, matching the strange look on Jaskier’s face. Geralt moved his hand over his jaw and back a few times. He could almost hear the ridges of his fingerprints catching on Jaskier’s stubble as he traced over his upper lip. 

He felt a soothing sense of familiarity when his fingers grazed along the outline of Jaskier’s lips. His body latched onto the feeling and he found himself starting to get watery eyes as he reacquainted himself with the thin pink skin. He remembered their first kiss and how much it scared him even though he craved it so completely. He remembered kissing Jaskier over and over and over when they’d finally said ‘i love you’ and dropped the casual pretense. He remembered their kiss at their wedding, soft, firm, and a little wet with happy tears. 

An annoying voice that sounded an awful lot like their therapist sounded off in his head, “This is what I was trying to tell you, asshat. Focus on the positive.” 

Geralt smiled despite the sharp tug behind his eyes that told him he might cry, and brushed his fingers up over the thin skin beneath Jaskier’s eyes, careful not to press hard enough to catch and pull at the blueish skin. He traced his eyebrows, the bridge of his nose, his cheekbones and hollows, his chin, and his cupid’s bow, all with that same surprisingly pleasant near-tears feeling in his chest. He watched Jaskier’s eyes watching him as he carded one hand through his hair. 

That was what did it, what made the tears start to dribble down his cheeks as his hands continued to gently comb through his husband’s hair. The look of wonder and relief he was met with was overwhelming. He felt a bit of guilt, sure. Guilt for letting things get as bad as they’d been, but he was overwhelmed by how much love he felt. It permeated his whole body and the air around him. He hadn’t even felt this in the beginning; this was a settled and sure feeling, not the frantic need he’d felt before. 

Geralt pressed their foreheads together and closed his eyes, sending a fresh wave of tears over his cheeks as he brushed his hands over Jaskier’s back. He traced his spine, counted every rib, and outlined his shoulder blades with the tips of his fingers. 

Their fronts were pressed together, but technically it wasn’t against any rule, so neither of them moved back. Geralt’s hands moved to the dip in Jaskier’s hips, his thumbs brushing over the place where his skin creased when he sat and Jaskier wrapped his hands around his wrists. A warm puff of air washed over Geralt’s face as Jaskier breathed a small laugh and moved his hands up. Surprisingly enough, Geralt was only amused by being moved, filing the information away for later as he settled for measuring Jaskier’s breaths again, now leaning into the full-body tingle he felt when they both exhaled. 

He wanted to stay right there for hours, but he suddenly wanted Jaskier to touch him. More than that, he wanted Jaskier to feel like him. He gave his sides a gentle squeeze as he straightened up and rocked back a bit, making the smallest bit of space between them.

“Switch,” he whispered, the soft sound coming out like crunching gravel in the charged silence. 

He let his hands fall to his sides as he opened his eyes, a little relieved to see he wasn’t the only one crying. 

Jaskier immediately reached up to cup Geralt’s cheeks and brush the tears away. It was odd, having to stay still when Jask was right there, when he could still feel the echoes of the sensations in his hands. But he stayed put, if for nothing else than the look of cautious excitement Jaskier was wearing. 

He wanted to tell him there was no need, that he would gladly spend the rest of the day standing in the dim light of their bedroom, silently taking turns softly caressing each other. But rules were rules.

Jaskier drew his hands a little closer together over his cheeks, making sure all the tears were smudged away with his thumbs as Geralt’s eyes fluttered shut. The warmth of his hands was soothing, especially when Jaskier slowly brushed his thumbs over Geralt’s eyelids. As Jaskier dragged his fingers over Geralt’s chin and brushed the backs of his fingers back up and over his cheeks, Geralt almost started to feel dizzy. He forced his eyes open and focused on watching Jaskier’s face. 

His tongue stuck out between his lips as his hands fluttered down his nose and to his lips. A wistful smile graced his features as he brushed over the chapped skin, pulling his bottom lip down just enough so when he let go it popped when it jumped back up to meet his top lip. Geralt tried not to smile, wanting him to do it again, but raised an eyebrow. Jaskier openly grinned and popped his lip a few more times before smoothing his thumb over it. He tucked some hair behind Geralt’s ear and cupped his hands around the base of his neck, gently pressing his thumbs into the tense muscles. 

A shiver ran down Geralt’s back as Jaskier brushed his hands out and over his shoulders, thumbing circles over the points where muscle just barely covered bone. Geralt watched his eyes, watched the little crows feet get deeper when he smiled and watched his brows lift up and together. 

It occurred to him then that Jaskier might have been just as lonely as he was, that the exuberant extrovert he’d married wanted this as badly as he did. It truly never crossed his mind until he saw it written plain as day on Jaskier’s face; he wasn’t the only one with insecurities in their relationship. 

Every bone in his body wanted to pick Jaskier up and crush him to his chest. The trails of goosebumps his fingers left over his skin made it even harder not to, but Jask was enjoying this. He’d even go so far as to say he was lost in it. Rules be damned, Geralt couldn’t take this away from him if he’d wanted to. 

When Jaskier’s hands ghosted over his navel he shivered and let his eyes flutter closed. If he wasn’t going to break and move he should at least lean into it.

However, being held without expectations, without needing, or even being allowed, to do or say anything in return was beginning to seem overwhelming. How had Jaskier just stood there and watched him? How could anyone just stand and constantly be told with the light brush of someone else’s knuckles over their cheek that they were desired and cherished? When the hands pressed to his chest told him over and over that he was loved, what kind of escape was there? 

One of Jaskier’s hands once again brushed his tears away and he leaned into it, lip trembling as he looked up at the ceiling trying to compose himself. Jaskier would have none of it, gently tilting his head down until their noses brushed and he was forced to look into his watery blue eyes. 

He needed this. Geralt was terrified but Jaskier’s expression spoke of a yearning that ran so deep even he probably couldn’t put a name to it. Geralt licked his lips and offered a watery smile, feeling warm relief when Jaskier smiled back and ran his hands down his arms to rest behind his elbows. He squeezed the meat behind his arms, the tops of his forearms, the tendons in his wrist, making his fingers involuntarily curl. Geralt didn’t move, he barely breathed, as Jaskier watched his own hands roam over Geralt’s like he’d never seen anything like it. 

When he stopped trying to run the sensation faded to a dull roar. Jaskier’s hands were warm and his breath across his skin was gentle. Geralt might even admit he felt a little bit worthy of the adoration in his husband’s eyes after a few minutes. 

Jaskier’s touches were light in some places, firm and grounding in others. Like when he circled his arms around Geralt and pressed his palms into the small of his back, resting his forehead where his collar bones met. Geralt had no idea how something so simple could make him feel so weak. He knew it wasn’t entirely true, but it felt like the only thing holding him up was Jaskier’s touch. When he rocked back, even if it was only an inch or so, Geralt had to fight not to follow him.

Jaskier rested his hands over his ribs, just above his elbows, and stared into his eyes. 

They’d agreed to say ‘end’ with their therapist. That’s what Geralt was waiting for. So when Jaskier whispered ‘enough’ and gave him a gentle squeeze it was all he could do to bite down on his lip and keep quiet. Of course he would say enough. The one word Geralt had struggled with from day one. Being enough always felt impossible, but he could begin to think of it as a bit more attainable standing in their dim bedroom without a sound in the world other than their breathing. 

He nodded and they both picked up their notepads and scribbled down the notes they were supposed to. Geralt’s was just a list of words but he didn’t care, he filled most of the page and chucked it on the bedside table before tugging on his sweats. 

When he looked up for Jaskier he found him staring at him, worry on his brow and pen hovering over what looked like a second nearly full page. 

“Do you, maybe want some tea while you write?”

He licked his lips and nodded, adjusting the blanket wrapped around his shoulders before going back to frantically scratching words onto his page. 

Geralt gently closed the door after him and took a deep shaky breath as he padded into their bright kitchen, running his hands through his hair. The kettle seemed to take forever with how fast his mind was racing, replaying every bit he could to lodge it in his memory. 

Jaskier was just closing his notebook and setting it on top of his laptop when he opened the door with his foot, careful not to spill any hot liquid on the carpet. 

“Thank you,” Jaskier whispered, taking his cup and sitting at the foot of the bed. 

Geralt joined him and draped an arm over his blanket wrapped shoulders, “Of course.”

They slurped at their mugs in silence until Geralt was able to take a full sip without scalding the roof of his mouth. 

Jaskier’s voice was soft as he spoke, the air from his words interrupting the steam drifting up from his mug, “Can I ask you something?”

“Mhm,” Geralt leaned in just a hair. 

“Why did you look up?” Jaskier rested his head on Geralt’s shoulder as he asked and it took Geralt a moment to remember he was supposed to answer.

“I…” he took a deep breath to pull his words together before he misstepped, “You stood still and watched me, and looked happy… and I wanted to do that for you… but I started crying again and I-hm. I didn’t want you to think I didn’t want to be there-here. Wherever.”

One of Jaskier’s hands drifted from his mug to Geralt’s thigh, “I was just worried.”

“Didn’t translate, huh?” Geralt asked, giving him a light squeeze. 

“Not quite,” Jaskier chirped, almost giggling. 

Geralt hummed and pressed a kiss to the top of Jaskier’s head, “I’m sorry.” 

“S’okay. Now I know.”

There were a few more moments of silence before Geralt chuckled, “I didn’t realize your hips were so ticklish.” 

Jaskier snorted, an attempt at sipping his tea absolutely aborted to save a spill, “I’ve never been ticklish, Geralt.”

Geralt set his tea on his knee and tilted Jaskier’s chin up to look at him, suddenly concerned, “What didn’t you like about me touching your hips?”

Jaskier’s goofy smile turned a little sly, “Absolutely nothing. In fact,” he started, taking both their half finished teas and setting them on the window sill before turning to envelop Geralt in the blanket with him, pulling him down onto the bed, “I liked it a bit too much.”

Chapter 2: You Make Me Brave

Summary:

a year after they started going to therapy, geralt and jaskier have a little sweet moment together

Notes:

hi i listened to ruin on the way home from work and cried about it so yall gotta suffer with me

Chapter Text

“Sounds like you two had fun together!” Their therapist was beaming as Geralt and Jaskier told her about the couple of parties they’d gone to over the week.

Jaskier grinned and elbowed Geralt, “Even out in public!”

Geralt just sheepishly smiled. What he used to take as offensive now sounded much more like a brag gently disguised as a joke. Jaskier had even told him he was proud of him when they’d gotten home and Geralt had almost cried; he actually believed him. Every day it was getting a little easier to relax and remember they were in it together, that Geralt wasn’t just playing a part in the hopes no one would realize he’d bombed his audition and shouldn’t be there in the first place. Hell, they were even sitting closer together on their therapist’s couch. When they first started, they couldn’t sit farther away from each other, let alone look at each other while they spoke. Now their knees touched and if Geralt really wanted to he could reach out and grab Jaskier’s hand. 

It was… well it wasn’t odd, but it was new. Geralt had never felt entirely settled in any relationship, as much as he thought he was when he’d married Jaskier, but now he was getting a handle on his place. He was figuring himself out just as much as he was getting to know Jaskier again. 

“Hm, wasn’t as bad as I remembered,” he added, giving Jaskier a soft smile before turning back to their therapist. 

She smiled, flipping through her notes to the beginning of her file, “It’s been a year since you two started coming in, do you want to hear how far you’ve come?” 

Looking over at Jaskier to check, Geralt was greeted with a scrunched-up nose and a look of apprehension, “Maybe not?”

“Next time.” Geralt suggested, endeared but still a little exasperated at the way Jaskier refused to look back, even on pictures, from the year before. 

“Maybe.” Jaskier countered.

“We’ll discuss,” Geralt decided, turning back to their therapist with a nod.

“Sounds good. I’d like to try something if you two are interested. I think you’re at a good point where it could be rather helpful.” 

Geralt shrugged as Jaskier nodded excitedly. Geralt was learning his husband was much more eager to please than he’d thought, that when he knew what he could do to help he would do it in a heartbeat, sometimes to his detriment. It had riddled him with guilt for a while to realize the person he lived with and claimed to love was so kind and he’d taken advantage of it without even realizing it. 

“Let's talk about what you need from the other person. I know we’ve been doing this since day one, but I want you to put it in your words and communicate it to them. What are the two most important things for you to feel loved and okay with being vulnerable?” Geralt stared at her like a deer in the headlights, every last word he’d ever known fleeing his head as soon as she’d asked the question. Jaskier, however, was frowning the way he did when he wrote and couldn’t condense a paragraph down like he wanted to. 

“We’ll take the hour to figure it out if we need to,” she looked at Geralt for that bit with an expression Geralt had become all too familiar with, “But after, when you’re home, and only when you feel ready, maybe you can promise to be and do those things for each other. Only when you believe that you can, and really want to, follow through on those things. I don’t want you making any promises you don't intend to keep or think you can't follow through on. Deal?” 

Geralt and Jaskier glanced at each other with little nervous shrugs before Jaskier took a deep breath and sighed, “Who goes first?” 

-

That night, Geralt laid awake long after Jaskier had rolled away from him, mumbling something about being sweaty, and drifted off to sleep. The things Jaskier asked for weren’t hard… in fact, they were surprisingly simple. Part of him had worried that Jaskier hadn’t been entirely honest and was taking it easy on him- but he quickly pushed the thought aside. His husband had promised him he was being honest and their therapist didn’t call bullshit, and that was all he needed these days. 

If he thought about it, he was already doing those things, albeit not confidently. But he was trying! And it was getting easier, not exponentially (hell, not even in a nice straight line), but just like telling his anxiety off, he was starting to do some of it out of habit. He finally slipped into unconsciousness thinking of ways he could go about bringing it up without making himself cry. 

All the next day, Geralt worried himself near sick about it. Was he really ready for it like their therapist wanted? Or did he just want to be ready? Would it make Jaskier uncomfortable if he did it too soon? Before Jaskier was ready? If he cried? Given that Jaskier had told him point-blank that it is a relief when he cries, that one shouldn’t be a problem. But the anxiety seemed to be gaining momentum and he was scrambling to catch it. 

When he got home from work, Jaskier was in the living room they never really used, plunking away on the piano he hadn’t touched since he started teaching and had a baby grand in his office. The old frame creaked as Jaskier opened the top and started tuning it. Geralt watched him in silence for a little while, biting back a smile when his husband mumbled to himself and swore as he scratched his head. It almost didn’t feel real. That sweet moment of peace and the warmth that spread through Geralt was still confusing, but he’d started savoring it. Hesitantly, he’d labeled it affection, but only because he didn’t want to jinx anything. He was almost certain it was that long brewed love that he heard couples who had been together forever talking about. It was close to what he and Jaskier had felt when they got married, just all the more fulfilling knowing it was hard-won. 

Jaskier played a series of notes a few times over that sounded eerily familiar to Geralt but he couldn’t quite place it as his husband muttered to himself, “Which fucking one of you is being a bitch?”

“It's your A key,” Geralt supplied, a cheeky grin spreading on his face when Jaskier jumped and let out a shrill giggle. 

“Come here, I need your ears,” Jaskier’s voice was melodic, rising and falling just like his laughter as he scooted over and patted the bench to the left of him. 

Geralt settled in next to him, giving him a quick kiss on his cheek before settling with his hands in his lap, “How was your day?” 

“Oh ridiculous,” Jaskier rolled his eyes, pausing to press the offending A key and glancing toward Geralt. 

“Sharp. You fiddled with it too much. What was so ridiculous?”

Jaskier stood to reach in the piano and let a tiny bit of tension release on the string before sitting back down and plunking away as he spoke, “Oh one of the other professors had some sort of presentation with bonus points for dressing up and half the students were wearing feather boas! The other half were dressed like me in college, which I proved to them by showing them a picture and we wasted half a lecture but I had fun. I was going to have them do something incredibly time-consuming to fill up the hour anyway.”

“E flat needs more flat,” Geralt took his pause to tell him what he’d noticed and continued, “Which pictures did you show them?” 

The smile he got in return was absolutely brilliant as Jaskier once again reached into the piano, “The Summer Social pictures where I had blue hair and you had an undercut with the Nirvana smiley face shaved into it.”

“Mmh, and that took a half-hour?” Geralt laughed, one hand resting on Jaskier’s knee as he sat back down. 

“Oh yes! I’ve got a lot of talkers in this one. One asked me to do their undercut when I told them I’d done yours,” Jaskier snickered, leaning closer to Geralt as he began plunking that same familiar tune from before. 

As they lapsed into silence and the soft notes filled the room, Geralt felt he could almost place the song. It was almost something he should know the name of immediately, he knew for sure that he’d heard Jaskier play it before, but it was just out of his reach until Jaskier looped his arm around Geralt’s elbow and rested his head on his shoulder. All at once Geralt remembered sitting at a different, clunkier piano that had given them splinters and plunking out a song together. A simple little melody and a simpler accompanying line that Geralt could play with one hand and keep up. 

Hesitantly, Geralt rested his left hand over the keys he thought he remembered and started tapping out his line. Jaskier squeezed his arm briefly to show he noticed, but neither of them said anything until they’d finished the song out. 

The final three-note harmony seemed to ring in Geralt’s ears as his heart beat furiously, “Hey Jaskier?” he whispered, gently leaning into his husband to get his attention. 

“Yes, Geralt?” Jaskier whispered back, mimicking Geralt’s little nudge. 

“I- I promise to be patient. And I promise-” Geralt had to pause to sniff and swallow back his tears, “...to be brave for you. I love you.”

For a few horrifying seconds, Jaskier didn’t make a peep. Right when Geralt was about to risk looking over at him, Jaskier gave a horrible snotty sniffle and a little squeak as he ducked under Geralt’s arm and wrapped himself around his torso. 

Jaskier couldn’t keep the warble out of his voice as he replied, gasping through his tears, “Thank you. I’m so proud of you- I really really am.” 

As Jaskier descended into tears, Geralt felt his grip on his composure slipping. He pressed his face to the top of Jaskier’s head and inhaled, trying to keep himself together and failing as tears streaked his cheeks. A year ago he might have rolled his eyes and called Jaskier a liar, afraid to trust that he actually meant it and afraid of feeling so vulnerable. But his words were comforting now; they silenced the little monster in his head, if only for a moment.

Only a few seconds later, Jaskier untangled himself from Geralt, holding his hand and sitting back to look at him while he spoke, his voice still squeaky and unsteady, “I love you so much it’s not even fair. I promise not to hide behind my jokes. And I promise to be brave for you.” 

Geralt squeezed his eyes closed, committing everything he could about the moment to memory as he nodded, tears falling from his chin to his chest. 

He squeezed Jaskier’s hands and whispered, “Thank you,” before his first genuine sob of the night pushed its way out of his throat. They sat on the piano bench just holding each other and crying for what felt like hours. Years of fear and loneliness were finally seeping out of their home as they cried and cried and wiped their snot on their sleeves and cried some more. 

As they petered out to deep breaths and little giggles of relief, Geralt’s stomach growled. 

“Hungry?” Jaskier teased, poking Geralt’s stomach and looking up at him like the picture of innocence. 

“Apparently.”

“Post-cry-pasta sound good? Or pizza?” 

Geralt kissed Jaskeir’s forehead before digging his phone out of his pocket, “You’ll want the leftover pizza for lunch tomorrow.” 

Nodding and tapping the edge of Geralt’s phone, Jaskier chirped, “I will. Can we get bacon on this one?”

They stayed sat at the piano, playing their song and trading soft lingering kisses until the pizza arrived and fell asleep wrapped up in each other, lulled into peaceful dreams by their food comas and the comfort of each other.