Geralt and Jaskier's first kiss happens after a pretty intense battle, with Vesemir, Lambert, Eskel, Yen, Triss, and Ciri all involved. Geralt and Jaskier reunite afterwards, Jaskier's face the very picture of relief at seeing Geralt had survived.

Jaskier runs up to Geralt, touching him all over, searching for injuries.
"I didn't know if you... I thought- I was so scared..."
"It's okay. I'm okay," Geralt assures him, letting Jaskier touch him even though everyone was watching them, needing this just as much as Jaskier did.

Geralt is just as relieved to see Jaskier alive and well, even though the bard had tried to stay away from the action as much as he possibly could. Geralt and Jaskier both knew that Geralt would be too distracted worrying about Jaskier to focus on the battle, if he was around.

"There's no major injuries," Geralt assures Jaskier. "Just minor cuts and scrapes and bruises. Nothing that won't heal just fine. In fact, they probably already are."

Jaskier is still touching him all over, breathing heavily, unusually silent.

Jaskier is shaking, and Geralt puts heavy, calming hands on his shoulders to still him. "Jaskier, what's wrong? I really am okay, I promise."

"I know, it's just... I thought you were going to die, and then I'd never- I'd never..."

"Never what?" Geralt asks,

even though he suspects he /knew/.

"Never get my chance to do this," Jaskier says.

And then he kisses Geralt.

Jaskier's lips are warm yet soft, shaking yet sure, and kissing with a hunger that surprised even Geralt. Geralt kisses back, fingers tangling in Jaskier's hair, not caring that everybody was watching.

Geralt is the first to pull away, leaning his forehead against Jaskier's.

He breathes in deeply, inhaling Jaskier's scent, something that had always intoxicated him. Citrus and honey, with a hint of wine, the oil he used to help sharpen and treat swords, and something else... fear. Relief. Lust.

Love.

"Everyone's watching," Jaskier whispers, suddenly coming back to reality.

"I don't care."

"Lambert's whispering something, probably about us."

"I don't care."

"I just /kissed/ you."

"I don't care." A beat. "Okay, I do care, but because I /wanted/ to do that."

"Now what?" Jaskier asks, still not moving, even though he can see Yen and Triss smiling and whispering to each other.

"/Now what/?" Geralt repeats. "You're the one who kissed me, and /you/ ask 'now what'?"

"I wasn't really thinking when I did that," Jaskier admits.

"All I felt was /relief/, and love, and I couldn't /bare/ the thought of not kissing you just in case I didn't get another chance."

"You could kiss me again," Geralt suggests, his mouth quirking upwards. Jaskier moves to do so, but Geralt puts a finger to his mouth.

"Not here," Geralt says, when Jaskier almost /whines/ in annoyance. "In private. I was- I was hoping you would give me a massage, ease these battle-weary muscles." Geralt's mouth quirks again. "With a lot less clothes on."

Jaskier laughs then, looking around at the others.

"Of course, Geralt, I'll help you take off your armour and give your a massage," Jaskier says rather loudly, looking around at the others, in variations of shock and laughter.

Geralt lightly slaps the bard. "Jaskier!"

"What? They know what we'll probably do later, anyway."

Geralt sighs. Jaskier was right. He was always right. "Fine. Come, bard." Geralt pulls away, holding out a hand. Jaskier took it gladly, loving the feel of the rough calluses on his skin.

"I'll follow you anywhere, my love," Jaskier says.

He would. And he did.

//end thread.