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Born to Make History

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Jaskier cursed as he felt the edge of his skate catch the ice. He landed ceremoniously on his arse. The take off into the quad salchow had been perfect. He’d gotten enough speed and height as he hugged his arms to his chest as he span in the air. He’d spread his arms wide for the landing but his fucking skate had hit the ice wrong. 

“Shit!” He groaned as he went flying across the ice on his butt. “Fucking, cock, balls!”

The grand prix final was flying towards them at breakneck speed and he was beginning to flail. No one had expected him to qualify this year. It was his fifth year in the senior division and whilst he’d done well in regionals and nationals, he was still trying to break into the international league, and this was apparently his year. 

“Julian!” Yennefer snapped as she skated over to him. “What the fuck was that? You can land a Salchow in your sleep!”

Yennefer Vengerberg. The bane of his life, otherwise known as his coach and choreographer. She’d also hooked him up with a ballet teacher, Triss Merigold, and he had never been so elegant on the ice. She was still the bane of his life. She was an incredible teacher and was in her prime the best female skater in the world. She’d retired from competing three years ago following an accident on the ice that had injured her spine. She was no longer allowed to make the jumps but her skating and step sequences were still to die for. 

She was also insanely strict and honestly scared the shit out of him. 

“I fucked up the landing.” He moaned. 

“Yes.” She said with a quirk of her eyebrow. “I can see that. Do it again.”

Jaskier scrambled to his feet and skated a loop around the rink to find his feet again.  He would have some lovely bruises but everything seemed to be in order. His ankles weren’t damaged which was the main thing. He sighed as he closed his eyes, picturing the music in his mind as he ran through the routine just before the quad salchow. He licked his lips as he took a deep breath before pushing up off the ice. 

He soared through the air as the music sang in his head and then landed perfectly. He grinned and moved through onto the next part of the routine. 

“Not terrible!” Yennefer called which was Yennefer speak for actually pretty damned good. 

By the time he’d finished the routine he was panting slightly and there was a dull burning in his thighs. His butt was sore but that was probably more to do with his crash than the routine. He skated over to the edge of the rink and rest his arms on the side. “Better?” He asked Yennefer with a wink. 

“Your triple axel combination needs work. Your arms were all over the place and would you please stop sticking your tongue out during the step sequences? You look like Roach.” Yennefer rattled off, counting each mistake on her perfectly manicured fingers. 

Roach. That was her ex’s cat. He’d seen photographs whenever Ciri, her daughter, joined them at the rink. Ciri was an adorable young girl who was eager to join in once they’d finished up their practice. Jaskier would always guide Ciri around the rink by her tiny gloved hands and help lift her as she jumped from one foot to another. She had ice-skating in her blood. Her father, Geralt Rivia, was a professional hockey player and owner of Jaskier’s heart. Every time Geralt came by to pick up or drop off Ciri, Jaskier stumbled on the ice. He was just so gorgeous that Jaskier apparently lost control of his limbs and turned into a puddle of Jaskier goo on the ice. 

He sighed wistfully as he pictured Geralt’s lovely amber eyes and shining silver hair. Of course he was an ice-skater. He even looked like he’d been blessed by some ice spirit or something. Jaskier had had many a dream about pair skating with Geralt, the feel of his strong arms lifting Jaskier high up into the air. 

“Jaskier! Are you even listening to me?” Yennefer prodded him in the arm. She sounded completely exasperated, which Jaskier supposed wasn’t entirely uncalled for. He hadn’t been listening and he had no idea how long he’d been daydreaming for. 

“Umm.” 

“Give me strength.” She groaned and skated away from him with a roll of her eyes. “Can we go through it again with music? Lower the jump difficulty if you’re tired but I want to see your performance.” 

He sighed and pushed off from the barrier, tossing his fringe from his eyes. “I. You… My, My performance is excellent!” He muttered. 

“Your performance is shit.” Yennefer countered. “Remember your tongue is supposed to stay inside your mouth. Otherwise you’ll bite through it and I’m not taking you to hospital.”

“Urgh.” Jaskier groaned but moved into his starting position. “Just press play already.”

“Oh and Jaskier?”

“What?”

“Geralt is coming in with Ciri. Please do try and stay on your feet.” She smirked and clicked play. The strumming of a guitar filled the room as On Love: Eros began to play. 

Jaskier stumbled over his first few moves. Stupid Yennefer and Geralt. He yelled with frustration as he settled into the routine. He knew this. He was good at this. The costume always helped his performance but he was Eros. He was great at seduction. He could charm just about anyone… who wasn’t Geralt. He moved with grace and elegance as he glided around the ice like the seductress that he was. In his mind Geralt was the playboy lover that had come to town and Jaskier was Yennefer. He would seduce the man who had stolen his heart. He had been doing it all season, not that Geralt had ever seen any of his performances but that didn’t matter. 

He lowered all his quads to triples. They’d been training for hours and doing quads at this point was too dangerous. His muscles were tired and this run through was about the performance. 

Seduction. 

Lust. 

Love?

The music stopped and the only noise that was left in the rink was the sound of his panting. 

He’d done it. 

“Yay! Jaskier!” Ciri yelled and clapped. He spun round to see her and Geralt watching from the edge of the rink. 

“Oh fudge!” He muttered as he caught Geralt’s eyes. Oh good lord he was so handsome. At least Jaskier was already red in the face from his performance. He could pretend the way his heart was racing was solely to do with exertion. 

“Jaskier that was amazing!” She shrieked and grabbed at the rails. 

“Ciri, your skates aren’t tied up.” Geralt reminded her as he scooped her up into one arm.

Jaskier laughed and skated over to them. “Thank you, Ciri.” He smiled at the young girl. “Umm. Hi.” He muttered at Geralt a little awkwardly. 

“Heard you got to the finals. Congratulations.” Geralt nodded. 

“Ah yeah.” Jaskier ran a hand through his hair. “Yeah. Thanks. What did you think?” He asked. “Three words or less?”

“Not bad.” 

Jaskier pouted. Great. His first review from the unrequited love of his life and it was ‘not bad.’

“Right. Well.” He muttered. “Thanks for that.” He went to pushed off from the barrier but Geralt grabbed his arm. Jaskier’s eyes snapped up to meet Geralt’s. The blush on his cheeks only intensifying at the contact. 

“It was good.” Geralt said in his gravelly voice that made Jaskier’s heart go wild. 

God he should have chosen Agape to skate to. Never mind trying to seduce Geralt, he was completely gone on the man. “Oh.”

“I like the music.” Geralt continued with a slight frown.

Jaskier chuckled. “Three words or less, that’s four.”

“You skate beautifully.” Geralt smirked and Jaskier’s skate slipped underneath him. 

“Oh sugar!” He groaned as he fell back but Geralt was still gripping onto his arm and he managed not to fall on his arse. “Shhh… Sherbet. Thank you, thanks.” He muttered. “I’m just… gonna.” He pointed to the other side of the rink where there was a gap in the barriers. “I think I’ve skated enough today.”

“But Jaskier!” Ciri whined. “You were going to help me with my toe jump.” She pouted at him with wide emerald eyes. 

“Oh alright then. Get your skates on.” Jaskier bopped her on the nose. 

“You don’t have to.” Geralt growled. “You must be tired.”

Jaskier waved his hands and scoffed. “Nonsense. I made a promise, Geralt.” 

“Hmm. Can I join you?” 

Jaskier’s heart stopped in his chest. He resisted the urge to pinch himself. Did he hit his head when he fell earlier? Was this all some dream? Oh god, he was definitely dreaming. “Oh, umm yeah. Yeah. Sure.” 

“Might need someone to catch you again.” Geralt chuckled and Jaskier gaped at him. 

“Geralt!” He whined. “I am a top figure skater!”

Geralt shrugged. 

“Take that back!” Jaskier pointed at him. “Take that back or I’m not letting you on the ice.”

“Hmm.” Geralt shrugged again. 

Jaskier huffed and finally skated away from him. His heart still pounding in his chest. When he turned around he saw Yennefer watching them with a smirk from the other end of the rink. 

“Are you done? I have notes.” She asked, her arms crossed in front of her chest. 

He groaned but reluctantly skated over to his coach. Ciri still needed to finish tying up her skates and Geralt could keep her entertained whilst he finished up with training. He tried not to zone out whilst she pointed out all his mistakes but it was hard with Geralt being so close, and now they were going to skate together. It was a dream come true. It was only Yennefer’s piercing violet gaze that kept him from drifting off into a daydream. Honestly he was thankful that she was so terrifying. He wasn’t sure any other coach would be able to keep him in line. His first coach, when he was still in Oxenfurt, had been too relaxed and Jaskier had often just fucked about. 

It wasn’t his fault he was so easily distracted. 

The scraping of blades on the ice pulled his attention away. Yennefer sighed and dismissed him with a wave of her hand. Jaskier grinned and spun round to skate towards Ciri and Geralt. Ciri tried to skate away from Geralt towards him but stumbled as she reached him. Jaskier reached out to catch her with a laugh. 

“There we go!” He said as he steadied her. “You’ll be a top skater in no time.”

“Hmm.”

“I’m going to play hockey!” Ciri grinned. 

Jaskier pouted dramatically. “You won’t need me to teach you the toe loop then.” Ciri’s eyes went wide and she looked like she was about to cry. “But, seeing as you’re wearing figure skates instead of hockey ones.” He winked at Geralt. “I guess I will.”

Ciri grinned. “Thank you, Jaskier!”

They weren’t on the ice long. Jaskier was exhausted from training and Ciri was only young so she got bored quickly. Geralt mostly stayed out of their way, running laps around the rink whilst Jaskier and Ciri practiced her jump in the middle. After about twenty minutes Geralt joined them in the middle and caught Ciri in his arms. 

“Enough now, cub.” He murmured. “Jaskier has a big competition coming up. Let him rest now.”

Ciri pouted. “Can we go and see him again?” 

Jaskier froze. 

Again?

What the fuck did that mean?

He stared at Geralt with wide eyes. Geralt was… blushing? Nah. It was probably just the cold air from the rink. 

“Ciri likes to watch you skate.” Geralt grumbled.

Jaskier smirked. “Ciri didn’t call my skating beautiful.” He glided forward slightly putting himself Geralt’s space. 

God if Ciri wasn’t here right now….

He bit his lip as he tried to push those thoughts out of his head. Geralt wasn’t interested in him that way. He’d thought that Geralt barely knew he existed before today, but apparently that wasn’t entirely true. Geralt had sneakily been watching his performances. 

“That was a joke.” 

Jaskier laughed and skated a circle around Geralt. “I don’t think so!” He sang and then before his confidence could leave him. “It’s getting pretty cold in here. Did you wanna grab a hot drink or something?” 

“Hot chocolate!” Ciri squealed and wiggled in Geralt’s arms. 

“Or coffee?” Jaskier suggested with a tilt of his head. “I was up before the sun today. Yennefer doesn’t seem to understand the meaning of beauty sleep, or course looking like she does, I don’t blame her!”

“Coffee sounds good.” Geralt nodded and skated over to the exit with an excitable five year old in his arms. 

Jaskier watched the pair of them, his gaze dropping down to Geralt’s sinfully round arse before grinning to himself and following them out of the rink. 

Chapter Text

Geralt couldn’t seem to calm his heart and it was fucking annoying. He’d managed to watch Jaskier in secret for years, ever since Yen had become his coach. He wasn’t sure why today had been any different. He couldn’t be angry at Ciri for letting slip that they’d been to a few of Jaskier’s performances when their schedule allowed. With any luck Jaskier would assume it was for Yennefer. 

But it was Jaskier.

It had always been Jaskier. 

He’d first seen Jaskier skate three years ago when Yen took over as his coach. He’d popped into the rink to collect Ciri. The rink had become a neutral spot to handover without Ciri getting upset as she loved to watch the skaters, even as a baby. So he’d snuck into the end of Yennefer’s session to find the most beautiful man gliding around the ice. He was in training gear but it was still tight enough that Geralt’s could see the firm muscles of the figure skater. Geralt’s mouth had gone dry and he’d been completely entranced. There was no music in the rink but Geralt could hear it anyway as the man had glided and danced and leapt around the rink. 

Until he’d seen Geralt watching him. At that point he’d tripped over his toe-picks and fallen flat on his face. Geralt had been so embarrassed that he’d grabbed the two year old in her pram and fled from the rink before the skater could regain his composure. 

It happened almost every time after that. If Jaskier spotted Geralt whilst he was skating then he would trip or mess up. So Geralt tried to keep his distance. He didn’t want to be responsible for Jaskier injuring himself. He couldn’t have that on his conscience not when Jaskier clearly had a glittering career in front of him. 

Except for today Jaskier hadn’t spotted him until the end of the routine and Geralt hadn’t run away. They’d had a conversation, they’d even skated together with Ciri acting as a sort of buffer between them. Geralt still kept his distance, preferring to watch as Jaskier taught his daughter the basics of figure skating. 

Geralt almost wish he’d brought his old figure skates with him instead of his hockey ones. He reckoned he could still do a double toe loop maybe even a triple. He doubted that he would have as much grace as Jaskier whilst doing it though. He was built for hockey and he was out of practice. He could lift Jaskier though, the figure skater was almost as tall as him and well built but Geralt was strong enough that, if given the chance, he could definitely lift him. 

Not that he’d thought about it.

Much. 

And now they were getting coffee. It wasn’t a date. Geralt kept telling himself that but Jaskier’s hand was gripping his arm as he laughed at some joke he’d told that Geralt’s hadn’t heard. Ciri was holding Geralt’s other hand and chattering happily with the figure skater. Geralt was stuck between the two of them feeling like he’d walked out of one of his dreams, a dream he hadn’t even allowed himself to imagine. 

“Geralt?” Jaskier’s hand squeezed his arm and he looked up to find Jaskier’s beautiful cornflower blue eyes looking at him. 

“Hmm?”

“Are you alright?” Jaskier frowned and licked his lips. 

God, Geralt wanted to kiss him. 

He nodded. “Yeah.” 

Jaskier flicked his fringe from his eyes and chewed on his lips again. It was fucking distracting. Did he even realised how much Geralt wanted him? Geralt would have to get him some lip balm to try and stop the never ending lip licking. Otherwise they would never get through a conversation without Geralt’s brain cutting out. 

“How do you have your coffee?” Jaskier sang as they entered the rink’s coffee shop. Geralt noted his often sang random sentences. He recalled that Yen had said Jaskier had composed his own free skate music.

His free stake music was ridiculous but catchy. Geralt had caught himself humming it more than once during practice. The song just wriggled its way into your head a refused to leave. By the end of the first week of the figure skating season, the whole hockey team were singing it. Jaskier could have easily become a musician if he hadn’t fallen in love with skating. 

“Black.” He grunted. 

Jaskier made a face and wrinkled up his nose. “Oh god, really?”

Geralt chuckled. “No but that’s what people assume.” 

Jaskier rolled his eyes. “That is not the question I asked. Come on, let me get you coffee, as a thank you for catching me earlier.”

“Caramel latte.” Geralt mumbled. “I need the sugar for training.”

Jaskier laughed and god even that was beautiful. “You and me both!” He strutted up to the counter to order whilst Geralt found a table with Ciri. 

She sat opposite him and watched him intently, her chin resting on her hands. 

“What?” 

“You like him.” Ciri stated. It wasn’t even a question. 

“Hmm.” He hummed nonchalantly. His daughter was perceptive but he wasn’t ready to admit it just yet, not aloud, not where Jaskier could potentially hear him. He glanced over at Jaskier who was busy flirting with the barista and Geralt’s heart sank.

Definitely not a date then. 

He pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. Why had he let his hopes get up? What would Jaskier see in him? His grey hair made him look decades older than he really was, his eyes were a weird yellow colour, nothing like Jaskier’s gorgeous cornflower blue eyes. He had less grace than a new born giraffe and little to no musicality. He was in so many ways, Jaskier’s opposite, but then again, they did say opposites attract and fuck was he attracted to Jaskier. 

The object of his desire laughed at something the barista said and then he turned to face Geralt with a dazzling smile. Geralt returned the smile weakly, still feeling a little nauseous from having his crush to close to him and yet so unobtainable. 

“Why don’t you tell him?” Ciri asked, her nose scrunched up as she tried to figure out why Geralt was being a coward with his feelings. 

“It’s more complicated than that.” He muttered and ruffled her hair. 

She shook his hand off and pouted. “Why?”

“Just is.”

“Yeah but why?” 

Geralt sighed. “He won’t like me back.”

“How do you know?” 

Geralt groaned. Bloody children and their endless curiosity. “I just know.”

“Know what?” Jaskier asked as he passed Geralt a large coffee cup. He put the coffee carrier down on the table and carefully handed Ciri the smaller of the two. “Careful, sweetheart, it’ll be hot.”

Ciri rolled her eyes and gripped the cup between her little hands. “Duh.” She muttered. 

“So know what, Geralt?” Jaskier asked again as he bit his lip. They was chapped from too much time spent at the rink and Geralt couldn’t stop himself from staring. 

“Hmm?” He replied, blinking as he vaguely registered Jaskier’s question. 

“Dad said he knows that you won’t like him.” Ciri stated matter-of-factly and Geralt’s brain suddenly snapped into gear. 

Shit! 

Jaskier choked on his drink and Geralt almost knocked his all over the table. “I’m sorry what?!” Jaskier shrieked.

Geralt groaned and hid his face in his hands. “Ciri!”

“What?” She snapped. “He asked!” 

“Go find your mother.” Geralt muttered sharply. His hands were shaking and Jaskier was just staring at him with his radiant blue eyes. “Now. Ciri.”

“But—”

“Now.” Geralt insisted and pulled out his phone to send Yennefer a quick heads up before sighing and turning towards Jaskier. “Sorry. She’s just a kid.”

“Geralt, I—”

“No, it’s fine. I understand. I’m just sorry you found out.” He cut Jaskier off before he could hear the words that would break his heart. 

“No but Geralt I—”

“It’s fine, Jaskier.” Geralt reassured the skater. “I can stop coming to your performances.”

Jaskier stood up with a wave of his arms. “Geralt, would you just listen to me, you emotionally constipated himbo?!” Jaskier yelled and Geralt’s mouth snapped shut. 

Fuck.

Jaskier put both hands on his hips and glared at him. “You’ve seen my routine?” Geralt nodded but didn’t say anything. “Have you worked out the story yet?”

Geralt frowned. “Eros, sexual love?” He grumbled.

Jaskier chimed a laugh. “The story of seduction, Geralt. I am the seductress trying to woo my playboy lover.”

“Playboy lover?” Geralt repeated. 

Jaskier tossed his fringe from his eyes. “Famous hockey player who could have anyone he wants, formerly married to the most successful and most beautiful female skater of our generation?”

Geralt felt his cheeks heat up. “I’m no playboy.”

“No. Perhaps not, but my story was better.” Jaskier shrugged and licked his lips. His cheeks were as red as Geralt’s felt. 

He furrowed his brow. “You were trying to seduce…me?”

Jaskier scratched the back of his neck and smiled sheepishly. “Well I didn’t think it would ever work. God, Geralt you are way out of my league!”

Geralt laughed. Out of Jaskier’s league. It was Jaskier who was out of Geralt’s league. The way he skated was absolutely breath taking, if he good just manage to land all of his jumps and maybe increase the difficult of his routines he would be dominating men’s skating. There wasn’t a single skater in the Grand Prix final that could out perform Jaskier. Yennefer would and had disagreed but none of the others were able to enchant Geralt the way that Jaskier could, and fuck, his Eros routine plagued Geralt’s dreams. 

How many times had he dreamed about peeling off the sequinned black outfit? The skirt that flick up to reveal that little tease of blood red. Fuck. It was hot. It drove Geralt mad and the way Jaskier licked his lips at the start of routine and winked at the audience. 

Out of his league. 

It must be a joke. How could Geralt even begin to compete with his beauty?

“Geralt!” Jaskier whined, snapping him out of his Eros fuelled daydream. He refocussed on the real Jaskier’s face. The skater was pouting at him and it took every ounce of Geralt’s self control not to kiss him. 

“You think you’re out of my league?” 

Jaskier nodded and Geralt just laughed again. 

“God, I’ve wanted you for years, Jask.” He admitted with a shake of his head. 

Jaskier’s jaw dropped. “No.”

“Yes.”

“You mean we could have been…?”

Geralt nodded. “Yes.”

Jaskier groaned and flopped back into his seat. “Fuck me.” 

Geralt took a long sip of his caramel latte as he watched Jaskier despairing over the potentially lost time. He hummed. “Normally I would ask you to dinner first.”

Jaskier’s eyes snapped up to meet his gaze. “Geralt!” He was blushing brightly but a playful smile danced on his lips. “How about I ask you to dinner?”

Geralt smiled and nodded, today was suddenly seeming a lot brighter. “Dinner it is.”

Jaskier reached across the table and Geralt took his hand. It was warm from where Jaskier had been holding onto his coffee, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. Geralt was still reeling over the fact he was allowed to hold Jaskier’s hand, after so many years of watching him on the ice. He’d always seemed so far away. A joyful presence in both Yen and Ciri’s life but never his, and for some unknown reason Jaskier had wanted him. 

“Why?” He asked.

Jaskier raised an eyebrow and tilted his head. “Why?” He repeated the question. 

“Why did you think I was out of your league?” It wasn’t exactly what he’d meant but repeating Jaskier’s earlier words were easier than trying to think of his own. 

Jaskier laughed and squeezed Geralt’s hand. “Because look at you!” He gestured with his free hand. “You’re bloody gorgeous.”

“So are you.” Geralt mumbled. 

That seemed to give Jaskier pause as his mouth opened and shut a couple of times. “Yeah. Well. You’re more gorgeous, and you’re this famous ice hockey player, Captain of the Kaer Morhen Wolves, ex-husband to the Yennefer Vengerberg, the Ice Queen. Father to the sweetest most adorable little five year old. You have everything. Why would you want me?”

Geralt felt his expression soften as Jaskier’s gaze fell to the table. “Because you make me hear the music even when there’s none playing.” Jaskier frowned and chewed on his lip. Geralt sighed and ran his thumb along Jaskier’s bottom lip, pulling it free from his teeth. “You keep doing that. It’ll start bleeding.”

“Yeah well.” Jaskier muttered breathlessly. 

“Being famous means shit all.” He sighed as he pulled away from Jaskier’s face. “No one gives a fuck about the person underneath. I’m just the ice hockey hero.”

Jaskier scoffed. “Well, then, Mr Ice Hockey Hero. Who is Geralt Rivia?”

Geralt chuckled. “You sound like press.”

“You don’t mind if I record this do you?” Jaskier teased and moved the small pepper pot to sit in the middle of them. “It’s easier than taking notes. I’d rather this just be you and me, without a notebook.”

“Jaskier!” He growled. 

“Now, we’ve all heard about your skills on the ice, tell me…” Jaskier paused dramatically and licked his lips. “do those skills transfer to the bedroom?”

Geralt barked a laugh. “I wish I could say I’ve never been asked that in an interview before.” He groaned. 

“No!” Jaskier giggled. 

“Hmm.” He agreed. It had been just after his divorce with Yen and the press were trying to market him as the next playboy bachelor.

“Don’t think I didn’t notice that you dodged the question, Geralt.” Jaskier teased. 

Geralt tilted his head and smirked. “If you win the Grand Prix final, maybe you’ll find out.”

Jaskier gaped. “Geralt!” He groaned. “That’s just not fair. I’ll never win.”

Geralt just shrugged. 

“You’re joking right. God please tell me you’re joking.”

Geralt didn’t answer.

“Geralt!!” 

Chapter Text

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.