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Born to Make History

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Jaskier didn’t win the Grand Prix final, he'd skated better than he ever had and even managed a new world record with his Eros routine. Unfortunately he stumbled on his Toss a Coin free skate routine and he’d ended up coming in second. The silver medal had hung proudly around his neck as he stood on his first Grand Prix final podium. His eyes had found Geralt’s in the crowd and Ciri had waved frantically at him. He’d given the young girl a wave before winking at her father. 

No he hadn’t won. 

But when you skating a world record breaking routine with the theme of seduction and lust, there were some bets that just needed to be broken. 

He smiled smugly as he pressed a kiss to Geralt’s bare chest. Geralt hummed and his fingers trailed along Jaskier’s hip bone.

“I love you.” Jaskier breathed, not wanting to shatter the soft warm glow that had settled in their hotel room. 

They had been dating for a few weeks now and Jaskier was pretty sure it had been going well. He’d learned more about Geralt’s life outside of the rink. He’d even met Roach the cat. She was a grumpy bastard but that somehow suited Geralt. He’d learned that Geralt’s favourite movies were in fact nature documentaries and he was secretly a complete dork about horses. Apparently the name of his first horse had been Roach as well but he’d had to give her up when he started playing ice hockey professionally. 

Jaskier learned that Geralt and Yennefer were still very good friends but could and would argue about the smallest detail if they spent too long in each other’s company. He learned that Thursdays were pizza nights with Ciri, and if Geralt couldn’t be there then he would have pizza no matter where he was in the world and send Ciri a photograph. 

He learned that Geralt knew the basics of figure skating and they’d learned together that Geralt really could lift Jaskier high above his head as they glided around the rink. To both their surprise they learned that Jaskier could also lift Geralt, though not quite as impressively. 

There was still so much to learn about each other and Jaskier was looking forward to every second. As long as his potentially premature confession of love didn’t ruin his dream and make his world start to crumble down. 

“I love you too.” Geralt hummed in response, calm and controlled as if he wasn’t causing Jaskier to have a cardiac arrest in the middle of their hotel room. 

Jaskier decided to try and play it cool and laughed instead. “Even if I only won silver?”

“Hmm.” Geralt’s hand carried on drawing patterns on the bare skin of his hip and it was utterly distracting. He sighed in contentment and nuzzled up against Geralt’s chest. 

“Silver matches your hair better anyway.” 

Geralt snorted. “It’s not my medal.”

“True, and gold would have matched your eyes.” He hummed thoughtfully. “I’ll have to get gold next year for your eyes.”

Geralt’s hand finally stopped in its tracks and Jaskier peered up at his lover with a confused expression. “Next year?” Geralt asked. 

Jaskier sat up and reached down stroke Geralt’s hair away from his eyes. “Hopefully.” He hummed. “I meant it when I said I love you. Maybe next year I’ll use the other arrangement.”

“Hmm?”

“On Love: Eros.” Jaskier laughed and booped Geralt on the nose. “That’s only half the arrangement.”

“What’s the other one?” 

“Agape. Unconditional love, dear heart.” Jaskier smiled and leant down to kiss Geralt. It was a slow and lazy kiss as Geralt’s hands trailed up and down the length of his spine, making him shiver. Unconditional love, like the love he felt for Geralt. God he hoped there would be next year, and the year after that and every single year after that until their time on the planet was done. 

“Hmm. Sound good.” Geralt mumbled against Jaskier’s lips before rolling them over and pressing Jaskier back against the mattress. 

So maybe Jaskier didn’t have a gold medal in his possession, but he certainly felt like he’d won.