The delicate art of flirting
“This is it, Yen… He’s gonna kill me this time, I can feel it in my bones,” Jaskier mumbles, looking in Geralt’s direction. He shivers, realizing the witcher hasn’t stopped glaring at him since they passed the village.
The sorceress rolls her eyes at him, like she’s already done with the conversation that has just started.
“Never call me Yen again, we’re not friends,” she huffs, irritated and then with a less annoyed tone, she adds: “If he hasn’t killed you yet, what makes you think he’ll do it now? I mean, if he hasn’t gotten tired of you already you can be sure you’re completely safe around him. Honestly, if I were him I would have stabbed you as soon as–”
“Alright, alright!” Jaskier cuts her off, outraged and a little bit scared… “I get it, you hate me! Please tell me something new… Now, are you quite sure about Geralt? Just look at him! He’s just…”
Yennefer turns her head around and they both notice that the witcher is, in fact, still narrowing his eyes at Jaskier.
“See?”
She looks from one to another, pinches the bridge of her nose and finally glances at him like his entire being is a waste of her time.
“He’s…” But she doesn’t get to say what Geralt is because she chuckles, just for a moment before saying, with an amused grin on her face: “You know what? Why don’t you ask him yourself?”
“You just want me to get killed, don’t you?” The bard accuses, gasping as if he’s feeling hurt.
“Don’t worry, I’m not that lucky,” the sorceress smiles and Jaskier is almost sure is the first genuine smile she throws at him. “Now go before I get bored and I turn you into something more useful like a mockingbird…”
Not feeling confident at all, the bard walks towards the spot Geralt is sitting, right next to Roach and the witcher follows every one of his movements with his eyes.
Jaskier clears his throat.
“Gera–” before he can finish, he feels himself tripping over a rock and he inevitably falls all over the witcher’s lap.
Behind him Yennefer has bursted into laughter. Well, at least he knows whom to blame for his murder.
“Hmm.”
“Listen, Geralt, I–”
“Does this mean it’s finally working?” The witcher has stopped glaring at him out of the sudden and Jaskier feels safe enough to look as confused as he is at the moment.
“What are you talking about?”
“The flirting,” Geralt says like it’s obvious.
“What flirting?” Jaskier asks but just then it hits him and he kind of gets why Yennefer is currently bending over herself with laughter. “You mean this?”
He does his best to make one of those glares the witcher excels at, although he is sure he doesn’t look intimidating in the slightest.
“Yes. Potential lovers stare at each other a lot.”
Jaskier looks dumbfounded at Geralt for a second before realizing he’s finally found something the witcher is absolutely terrible at.
“Right…” He mumbles because for the first time he has no idea what to say.
“Did it work?” Geralt takes him by the waist and pulls him closer.
Sitting on the witcher’s lap with their faces a few inches apart, Jaskier is honestly thinking if he should tell him the truth or just–
“Yes, it worked,” he grins and then he adds: “Wait, does this mean you’ve been flirting with me since we met?”
“Of course.”
It seems the surprises never end.
***
Toss a coin to your writer. ❣️