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Lemon Boy

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“Sometimes I think about coming over and chatting with you, you know? But I don’t want to freak you out by just - hovering over here by the fence. Would that be weird? I mean, I could just talk and you could do your thing, that’s totally fine. To be fair, this is my yard, I have every right to just stand and watch...” Jaskier knelt on top of the picnic table he pulled over to the fence, bare knees scraping slightly as they dug into the wooden surface. He held a black and white ball atop his lap.

“That would be a little creepy, though.” Geralt was standing on a bench, arms folded on the fence. His shirt pulled taut against his shoulders, dipping a bit at his neckline and otherwise, the rest was hidden behind the partition. Jaskier knew it would be too obvious if he sat up to lean forward and peek, but oh how he wanted to.

Shrugging though, the brunette raised a hand to shield his eyes as he looked up, the sun beginning to set right behind Geralt’s head so that his pale hair was silhouetted quite nicely. Like a halo, Jaskier grinned to himself. Was that too cliche to think? “Not if we’re talking to each other.”

“I didn’t ask you to come talk to me,” Geralt grumbled, amber eyes glancing to the side. The smallest of smiles tugged at his lips though, and Jaskier caught it - of course he did, with how intently he always stared. “I just asked if you could toss the ball back.”

Instead, spinning the ball in his hands, Jaskier giggled. “Maybe you should stop being so bad and kicking it over here, then you wouldn’t always have to ask me for it. You know, one of these days I’m just going to keep it.”

“Then I’ll come get it.”

“From my room?”

They stared at each other for a moment. Jaskier smirked, feeling like he’d won something but not entirely sure what

Geralt blushed just a little, huffing and looking down. “I’m not going to break into your house. I got in enough trouble for sneaking into your yard.” He shifted a little, shoulders tilting as he moved his feet somehow behind the fence. “I would just have to buy another one, I guess.”

“And lose that one, too? Do you have a job to fund this poor habit, dear Geralt?” His blue eyes twinkled as he teased, finding fun in exerting the cheekiness he usually kept bottled up around family.

“I actually do, I mean - I do odd jobs in the neighbourhood. I don’t see you going out to work, though.”

Jaskier hummed softly, shrugging innocently as he was unable to keep himself from grinning. “Fair. Anyways though, wouldn’t it be easier to just... come over and get it? I can extend an invite for an esteemed guest, but there would be a bit of a charge with it.”

Geralt had dark eyebrows, contrasting much with his chalky hair. And when they drew together, a little shadow formed from the crease of his brow. It was so cute. “You’re going to make me pay more than it would cost to just... go get another from the store.”

“Oh! Not money, my friend! Something far more valuable,” Winking, Jaskier took this opportunity to lean forward just a little; he still denied himself a downwards glance, because holding eye contact was far more fun of a game. “Time.”

Geralt smirked a little too, but accompanied with a soft laugh. “We’re not exactly friends, you know that.”

“Nope. We’re neighbours. But we could be friends, if you gave it a chance and did friend things with me.” Jaskier stood on the picnic table, ignoring how his knees felt so relieved from the sharp surface, and hopped down. He still held the ball in his hands, a cheeky look on his face when Geralt’s eyes followed it. “So, that being said, if you want this back, how about you spend the night this weekend? Does Friday sound good? My parents go out for this dumb country club elitist thing, so the house will be all to us.”

“You’re baiting me, that’s not cool.” But something shifted in Geralt’s face, a pensive look that left him almost soft. Jaskier’s heart fluttered, and he didn’t realise he was holding his breath until Geralt’s next words made him laugh. “Do I need to bring a baked good for the host?”

“Oh, honey if you can cook or bake or do anything without trashing a kitchen, you are a god in my eyes. If you want to bring something, go right ahead!” He felt light, giddy and fuzzy and just happy all over. 

“So, Friday then? What time?”

“Eight?”

“Sounds good.” A pause. “You okay?”

“What?”

“Your mouth’s open.”

“Oh!” Laughing, Jaskier twiddled his fingers in a wave farewell, and spun on his heel. “No matter, I’m fine. But yeah, see you on Friday, Geralt!”