Mae govannen!

a few quick rules of housekeeping ;)-

this story is a source of fun and laughs for me- but i don't always have time to work on it...so the updating will be spasmodic to say the least. It's been in my mind for some time now, so i decided to do something with it!

(The cover image was the picture that inspired it i should mention)

warning: do not read if you don't ship Geralt and Jaskier! There will be plenty more Witcher fanfictions coming from my pen- this is just the way this one decided to go ;)

Disclaimer: i own nothing of this universe!

And please reveiw!

enjoy! ;)

The first thing that Geralt noticed was the coffee cups. Not that they were overly subtle. But that did fit in with Jaskier's sense of humour. No matter how many times Geralt asked him to tone it down, always it crept out in new and yet more creative outlets.

Jaskier, after all, was shameless. He was out with where he stood. To Geralt on the other hand, the rainbow, with its innocent colorful curve, felt like some great flashing sign declaring a part of him that he would rather not let just anybody know about.

His mother, Visenna, did not.

To be fair, they had been estranged since he had quit school and moved out at sixteen. He had toughened up since then. Most people gave him a wide berth these days... Maybe it was all the black leather and silver studs and buckles he wore. Or the unnatural white hair, that, ironically, WAS natural. It could even be the fact that his face rested in a dangerous-looking scowl, which only deepened when he dropped into thought.

Jaskier was a bit of a living rainbow himself. Or maybe a human chameleon. Today clad in blues of neon and denim, and a shade of purple that Geralt had never in his life seen a man wear. Maybe Jaskier liked standing out.

I should probably ask him...Geralt thought. maybe...

In his mind, he could not understand why someone would make himself a target like that. Part of the reason that Geralt had hated school was all the comments he had been thrown. Gay Bastard was his least favourite. White Wolf another that irked him; created for his hair. The last person who had called him either had earned a broken nose for that. He had quit school before they had managed to expell him.

There had been a fight that evening, back at their brownstone. Well, his mother had fought; shouting and screaming, telling him what he was throwing away, that he was ruining his life... his ears had still been ringing when he had slammed his way out the front door, the frosted road outside seeming to stretch for miles- frozen veins bleeding away into the night of Novigrad city. He had hesitated on the doorstep, hearing her demand that he 'come back here at once!' and had stolen a shaking breath before leaving for good. It had felt strange, breathing the chilled air, rasping like needles of ice in his dry throat. Tears had come, the unholy burning in his chest that was weakness incarnate. Never, after that night, had Geralt allowed himself to cry again. Not once. When he was dry-eyed, he felt stronger.

The city was silent that night, cool wind rasping the nape of Geralt's neck, tugging at the leather duffel tucked under his arm. Where to go now? Vesemir had always said he was welcome...maybe the old man had known, or had some manner of premonition last summer; about what was still to come. He knew the other boys at the Kaer Morhen Youth Hostel...well, he had spoken to them once or twice when dropping in to see Vesemir. Three strong, feirce-looking youths, all with the same golden cat's eyes as the old man. Geralt hadn't asked. Whatever was going on behind the scenes, be it drugs or other such things, he didn't need to know.

Coën, Lambert, and Eskel. Yes- those had been their names.

Looking back now, with golden eyes of his own, Geralt found his fear childish in the gleam of hindsight. Vesimir and the boys had become more of a family to him than his own mother had been. Now he had a father and three brothers.

And a sister...

Two years ago, a young girl with ashen blonde hair and eyes like green gemstones had stumbled in, eyes red from tears. He later found out that a couple of drunks had tried to rape her. The fifteen year old had, in desperation, jammed her fingers into the one man's eyes. It was Geralt who had washed the blood from her nails, and helped her clean off in the big copper bath. She had been shy at first, but now she was able to keep up with the rest of them.

"You go through a whole range of faces when you think. Did you know that?"

Geralt looked up with a start to see Jaskier leaning back in his chair, smirking.

The colorful fop then proceeded to silently toast Geralt with his rainbow branded coffee and throw him a wink. "Looks painful..."

"And you think you're so smart," said Geralt dryly. "How long did it take you to come up with that?"

"I think at the speed of light," said Jaskier with ease. He rolled up the sleeves of his violet coat to reveal it had a crimson lining. His feet, clad in electric-blue sneakers, swung casually under the table.

"Bullshit," said Geralt, tone a pleasant statement of truth. Jaskier laughed, delighting in the foulness of Geralt's tongue. "Singers are inherently stupid by nature. And you're a singer, so..." A small, nasty smile split his thin lips.

"You're a real bastard, Geralt," said Jaskier, sniggering. "But i'll allow it."

"Hmmm." Geralt forced back the memories that came hand in hand with that word, trying not to let them gain a foothold. Eventually, he succeeded. He shrugged off his black leather jacket, wrangling his hair up into a ponytail. The sun was warmer than he had thought. It was pleasant after two weeks solid rain.

"You know...some color would look great on you..." Jaskier took the lid of his coffee, steam rising in a quaint little curl. "Instead of all the black and silver."

"We agreed to leave my clothes out of this," Geralt took a sip and burnt his tongue. "Fuck! That's hot!"

"You agreed," said Jaskier with a laugh. "I just nodded."

Geralt let out a non- commital snarl, gingerly trying the coffee again. He had more luck this time. His tongue stinging from abuse, he scowled. "This is the last time that I let you choose the cafe."

"You can't blame me for the heat of the drink, Geralt."

He grunted. He probably could. Nothing was stopping him. Perhaps he would have, If Jaskier had not lent forwards, chin resting on his hand. He gave Geralt that expectant look- the one reserved for simpletons who had forgotten something gravely important. He hated that look. "What?"

Jaskier grinned, forget-me-not blue eyes twinkling with mischief. "You never RSVP'd."

"To what?"

Jaskier sighed. "Tsk, tsk, Geralt...really I am offended."

"You know, it's times like this when i begin to wonder why i'm friends with you." Geralt decided to ignore his companion until said companion ceased speaking in riddles. He was disappointed; Jaskier only waited with a cheeky smirk. "Fuck, Jaskier, what is it?"

"The party invitation, you thickheaded sod." Jaskier started to laugh as Geralt rolled his golden eyes. "Are you coming, or not?"

Geralt heaved a sigh and nodded. "Fine. But you have to promise me something."

"Anything!" Jaskier grin had annexed the entirety of his boyish face. "Speak and I shall serve!"

"Next time- I get to choose the café."

"Done." Jaskier seemed to realise why Geralt had said this, as he brought his coffee to his mouth. He ran a finger over the innocent little rainbow and said, "You know, straight people come here too."

A sly grin curled over Geralt's lips. "And you're about at straight as a circle. Or am I mistaken?"

Jaskier burst into delighted laughter. "Nope. Sounds about right to me."