The grey light of a new day was already on the horizon by the time Geralt made it back to the Pankratz family home. Despite drinking enough to drown a sailor, Grammy was compos mentis enough to sail the boat back to the island, and Geralt was drunk enough not to question how irresponsible that may be. Mary, meanwhile, had to be carried onto the boat by Geralt after drinking too much of Grammy's infamous cordial.
"So, what's the verdict—did you have a fun night?" Grammy asked as she docked the boat in the harbour. Geralt easily lifted a sleeping Mary into his arms and carried her up the gravel path towards the house with Grammy by his side. The evening's events flashed through his mind: he could easily have passed on the oily strippers and karaoke, but watching Grammy take a jelly shot from the belly button of the nightclub bartender would stay with him forever.
"It was an interesting experience," he replied diplomatically.
Grammy snorted and shook her head. "Admit it! You enjoyed yourself."
"Hmm...maybe a little bit."
"That's good enough for me," she relented, patting him on the back.
The house was dark and quiet when they entered. Grammy said that she would grab a drink and a quilt for Mary while he gently laid her out on the living room couch. Mary barely stirred as Grammy tucked the quilt under her chin and left a glass of water on the coffee table.
"Can't forget this," she whispered, placing a basin on the floor next to Mary. She sighed and shook her head as she looked down at her daughter-in-law. "Poor girl will have a rotten hangover tomorrow. She's never been able to hold her liquor."
"She seemed to enjoy herself up until the point she fell asleep in the toilets."
"Thank the gods Pris found her, otherwise she'd still be in there," Grammy chuckled. She looked up at Geralt with a fond smile. "Come here. I want to talk to you about something."
Geralt frowned but followed Grammy as she beckoned him into the kitchen where they could speak without disturbing Mary. She motioned for him to take the empty seat next to her at the kitchen table before she spoke again. "Mary and I are hoping to send out the wedding invitations tomorrow morning, but you still haven't told us who you would like to invite."
Geralt's stomach dropped. "Right. Um, about that...to be honest, the wedding's been arranged on such short notice, I can't really expect people to drop everything and come along. And it's such a long way to travel. Plus, I haven't brought my address book with me, so it would be a nuisance trying to get a hold of everyone's addresses, you know?"
"Couldn't you just call them?" she pressed.
She had him there. He struggled to think of a good reason as to why he couldn't call the imaginary friends and family that he had to attend his fake wedding. When he drew a blank, he replied weakly, "I don't want to hassle anyone."
Grammy studied Geralt silently for a moment. "You know, since you've arrived here, you've talked a lot about your work, but I don't think you've ever mentioned anyone from your life. Don't you have any friends or relatives that you want to be there on your big day?"
Geralt fidgeted in his seat, thinking he'd rather be receiving another lapdance than endure this interrogation any longer. "Well, truth be told, I don't have many people who would fall into either of those categories." He bowed his head as his insides twisted with embarrassment. "So, really it wouldn't even be worthwhile asking anyone."
"So, there isn't anyone that you would like to invite?"
Geralt shrugged. "Not particularly."
"No family?" Geralt shook his head and Grammy sighed. "I thought that may be the case."
Geralt snorted. "Is it that obvious?"
"No, it just takes one to know one. It might surprise you to hear that when I married Jay's grandfather, my family were less than supportive of our union."
"Really?"
"Oh yes. You see, Jay's grandfather was born and raised in Nilfgaard."
"Oh."
Grammy gave him a sad smile. "Oh indeed. Attitudes towards Nilfgaardians may have improved over the years, but I'm sure that you can imagine what it was like back then: it was one thing to employ a Nilfgaardian, but to have one marry a Redanian girl...well, we were certainly the talk of the town."
"It must have been difficult."
"It was. My parents insisted that Julian only wanted to marry me for a residency card"—Geralt felt a wave of guilt wash over him then but he forced himself not to react—"the pressure from my family almost broke us up."
"How did you stay together then?"
Grammy smiled fondly at Geralt. "Jay's grandfather was a lot like you: he was tough and wouldn't take no for an answer. But he was also fiercely loyal to those he loved. Despite everyone doubting us, fifty years of marriage and a son proved them all wrong. We got married under that oak tree out there." She nodded towards the kitchen window. "It was just the two of us and the priestess. Julian's family couldn't afford to travel, and my family decided not to attend."
"I'm sorry," he said quietly. What exactly he was sorry for, he wasn't entirely sure. But Grammy shook her head and smiled.
"Don't be. Family politics, social prejudice, self-doubt: you can overcome anything, so long as you love one another and are always honest with each other. Love and honesty was the foundation of mine and Julian's marriage, it's what's at the heart of Mary and Albert's relationship, too. You and Jay remind me a lot of myself and my Julian. Sure, we had our ups and downs, but he was always my anchor: I see how you keep each other anchored, how supportive you are of one another. I've no doubt that you two will have a long and happy life together."
Geralt didn't think he could take any more of this. The depth and sincerity of Grammy's words cut him like a knife; the more she spoke, the more painful it was to hear, and the more he wanted what she said to be true. Geralt rubbed his tired eyes, stinging with tears. Grammy, unable to fully understand the full impact of her words, rummaged through her purse and pressed something small and cold into Geralt's hand.
"Here. I was going to wait until your suit fitting to give you this, but I'd rather pass it on to you now." Geralt opened his hand to find a plain silver ring.
"It's beautiful," he noted quietly.
"It's been in my family for 150 years," she said proudly. "My great-grandfather gave it to my grandfather when they got married. And while my father didn't approve of our marriage, he did give me this. I want you to have it."
Geralt shook his head. "Oh no, I couldn't."
"I don't want to hear it!" she cried. "Grandmothers love to give gifts to their grandchildren; it makes us feel like we're part of your lives, even after we're gone. Please, take it."
Geralt nodded mutely and closed his palm around the ring. Grammy rested her hand on top of his. "So you see, it doesn't matter if nobody else turns up on your wedding day, because the most important person in your life is already going to be there. Julian and I made our own family, just like you and Jay will make yours. Your wedding day is the first day of the rest of your life, when you and Jaskier will be committing yourselves to each other, surrounded by people who love you both."
"But I don't have anyone who loves me," Geralt murmured. He'd always known that was the case, but saying it out loud hurt more than he had expected it to.
"Of course you do!" she cried, squeezing his hand. "Jaskier loves you. And so do we. We're your family now, Geralt. Never forget that."
Grammy pulled Geralt into a tight hug, whispering reassurances as tears slid down his cheeks onto her shoulder. Her words had been as much a torment as they were a comfort, telling him everything that he'd ever wanted to hear on the basis of a terrible lie. And the more time he spent in the company of Jaskier and his family, the heavier that lie began to feel, pressing down on his shoulders and conscience like a physical weight, crushing the air from his lungs until he struggled to catch his breath.
He hoped that Jaskier would be asleep when he entered the bedroom after Geralt finally bid Grammy goodnight, but as he closed the door behind him with a soft click, Jaskier switched on his bedside lamp.
"There you are," he yawned, sitting up against the headboard. "Huh, you look disappointingly sober. Well, I'm assuming since you've gotten home so late, you still had a good night."
Geralt didn't respond. Instead, he sat down on the edge of the bed with his head in his hands. "Jaskier, I don't think that I can go through with this."
"Surely the stag do wasn't that bad," Jaskier joked, but when he realised that Geralt was serious, he scrambled over to his side. "What do you mean? What happened?"
"It's this place, these people...it's you," he rambled. "It's screwing with my head."
"You're not making a lick of sense," said Jaskier. He pulled Geralt's hands away from his face, but Geralt turned away, unwilling to meet his eye. "How have we screwed with your head? My family has gone above and beyond to make you feel welcome here. They just threw you a bloody stag do, for gods' sake!"
"I know!" Geralt snapped. "That's the problem."
Jaskier frowned. "Was the stag do that bad?"
"No, not the stag do, Jaskier!" Geralt bristled.
"Then what?" Jaskier demanded. "You're going to have to spell it out for me because you're not making any sense."
Geralt sighed and clenched his fists. "Tonight, everyone was so nice. They all welcomed me with open arms, even Pris. And your mother and grandmother, they've made me feel so at home here, like I'm part of the family."
Jaskier stared at him. "You say that like it's a bad thing."
"It is!" Geralt insisted. "Because it's not real, is it? Any of it. I manipulated you into doing this to save my own arse."
"Hold on a minute, I walked into this with my eyes wide open," Jaskier argued. "I agreed to do this!"
"You say that you love your family."
"Of course I do."
"Yet you're still going to put them through this!" he said accusingly.
"Because they're not going to find out!" Jaskier shouted.
"They might not find out that this is a sham marriage but they're still going to get hurt. Look what your grandmother just gave me." Geralt pulled the wedding band out of his pocket and showed it to Jaskier. Jaskier's eyes widened with surprise and he looked sharply at Geralt.
"She gave that to you?"
Geralt nodded. "She believes that we're the real deal, but you and I both know how you really feel about me."
"Oh?" said Jaskier hotly, crossing his arms. "So you're able to look inside of my head now?"
Geralt drew him a withering look. "Don't treat me like I'm stupid. I know about the little group chat you and everyone else in the office are part of, talking behind my back. I get it, though. I'm your boss, I don't pay you to like me."
"You don't know the first thing about how I feel about you!" Jaskier shouted.
"Then why don't we both just get it out in the open, eh?" Geralt rose to his feet and pointed accusingly at Jaskier. "Tell me exactly what you think of me, Julian."
Jaskier's eyes flashed with anger and he scrambled to his feet, standing toe to toe with Geralt. "Fine! You really want to know what I think of you? You're the most self-centred, pig-headed, infuriating person I've ever met!" Geralt tutted and rolled his eyes, which only enraged Jaskier further. "For the last three years, I've bent over backwards for you, missing out on holidays and the opportunity to spend time with my family and friends, and I never got so much as a thank you for my troubles!"
"Need I remind you that I pay you to assist me, not to be my friend?" Geralt shot back.
"Yeah? Well, you don't pay me enough!"
"Well, do you want to know what I really think about you?"
"No."
Geralt screwed his face up with confusion. "No?"
"No, because I've spent every day for the last three years listening to you talking about yourself and for once in my life I want to take the opportunity to tell you to shut up!"
Geralt gaped at him. "Excuse me?"
"You heard me!" Jaskier put his face in Geralt's, clearly relishing the chance to insult him. "Shut up!"
Jaskier's eyes widened with shock as Geralt suddenly grabbed a fistful of his t-shirt and pulled him closer, snarling, "Make me!"
Jaskier's hands instinctively grabbed hold of Geralt's, but he didn't push him away. Geralt's heart was pounding from anger and, more distressingly, with arousal. His trousers felt impossibly tight around his sudden erection, but he was more shocked to find Jaskier's boxers were tented as well. Their breaths were heavy and the air was thick with tension, but neither man moved away from the other. They just stood there, their noses brushing together, glaring at each other—daring each other—to make the next move.
Geralt couldn't think straight. A little voice at the back of his mind told him that this was a bad idea, but his focus narrowed to how blown out Jaskier's pupils were, half-lidded and full of want, and gods, Geralt wanted him too. Geralt hushed the dissenting voice: what did it matter if he just closed the short distance between them now? To hell with the consequences, he was already beyond saving now.
"Make me," he said again, with a note of pleading this time.
At those words, what little restraint Jaskier had left fell away as he grabbed the nape of Geralt's neck and pulled him into a passionate kiss. Geralt's world seemed to lurch sideways then, and the pent-up emotions that he'd been holding onto for days—years, really—melted away in an instant. His tight grip on Jaskier's t-shirt slackened and he slid his hands up Jaskier's neck, cupping his face in both palms. Jaskier sighed at his touch and deepened the kiss, opening his mouth and tracing his soft, silken tongue across Geralt's bottom lip, sending a shiver down his spine. Geralt's body and brain seemed to be acting independently from one another as he allowed himself to be turned around and pushed on the bed. Jaskier immediately followed as he climbed on top of Geralt's lap and kissed him again. Their lips ghosted over each other, breathing hot, shallow breaths into each other's mouths as Geralt's hands wandered up Jaskier's body, across his slim hips and under the loose-fitting t-shirt, relishing the expanse of smooth, warm skin at his fingertips. Jaskier broke the kiss to roughly pull his t-shirt over his head and toss it aside, mussing his hair in the process and gods, Geralt had never seen anything more gorgeous or fuckable in his life.
They were both gasping into the kiss now, tongues exploring each other's mouths as they fought to remove the last of their clothing. As he finally managed to pull his boxers off, Geralt's brain sluggishly noted what a great kisser Jaskier was, but his mind went blissfully blank when he felt Jaskier's prominent erection brushed against his own. His pulse quickened as Jaskier lined up their hot, slick lengths together and jutted his hips forward, pulling a long, low moan from both of them. Jaskier did it again, slower and more deliberate this time, causing Geralt to throw his head back against the mattress and gasp, relishing the deep, sharp spark of pleasure that shot through his cock and up his spine. Geralt slowly dragged his fingernails down Jaskier's back, cupping his arse cheeks in each hand and giving the firm globes a tight squeeze. Jaskier let out a groan of approval as Geralt pulled him closer, thrusting their bodies together, slick with sweat and precum, back and forth against each other to create a delicious friction.
"You want this?" Jaskier whispered, his hot breath kissing Geralt's lips.
"Yes," he breathed. He wanted it more than he dared to admit.
"You want me?"
Jaskier's voice sounded abrasive but tentative, as though he still wasn't entirely sure that Geralt would really want him too. Geralt answered with another kiss, and he felt the tension leave Jaskier's body. The kiss was slower this time, less desperate but more deliberate with perhaps more meaning than Geralt could allow himself to ponder in that moment. Jaskier entwined their hands as they began canting their hips together in a steady motion. They grunted and groaned with each thrust, ragged puffs of breath passing between their pink, swollen lips as they tumbled towards a euphoric climax. Geralt's head was spinning. It was all too much: the hot press of their bodies, the feel of Jaskier's heart pounding against his own, the exquisite way Jaskier whispered his name over and over again, first like a prayer and then with a cry...
Geralt opened his eyes and watched with awe as Jaskier came completely undone before him. Jaskier's body writhed and trembled with pleasure against his own, gripping Geralt's hands like his life depended on it. He could feel the wet heat of Jaskier's climax between them, making their thrusting movements even more fluid and urgent. Jaskier whimpered helplessly, his face contorted with pleasure before he collapsed in an ungraceful heap on top of Geralt, his face buried in Geralt's neck as he made a series of muffled, blissful noises. Jaskier carefully pried their fingers apart but was still too exhausted to move. Geralt was content to lie there and allow Jaskier to get his breath back.
"You're a lot heavier than you look," Geralt joked eventually, earning him a disgruntled slap on the shoulder.
"I thought I told you to shut up," Jaskier reminded him breathlessly.
"You already did a good job of shutting me up," Geralt pointed out. Jaskier looked up then, pushing his damp hair from his face before giving Geralt a licentious smile.
"Oh, I'm not done with you yet," he promised, crawling down Geralt's body until he was between his legs. Geralt's cock was still covered in Jaskier's cum, but this didn't seem to deter Jaskier. Geralt's mouth fell open as Jaskier took a firm hold of his cock at the base and ran the flat of his tongue over the full length of the shaft, lapping up his own seed like the cat that got the cream.
"Holy shit," he whimpered. It was the dirtiest, most erotic thing he'd ever seen. "Keep doing that."
His hand scrambled at Jaskier's shoulder before threading his fingers through his unkempt hair. Jaskier groaned approvingly and took the tip of Geralt's cock into his mouth, sucking and twirling his tongue expertly over his full length. Jaskier's mouth was so hot and wet, the sensation so intense, Geralt knew that it wouldn't take much before he came too. As his breathing became more ragged, his grip on Jaskier's hair tightened, and Jaskier responded by moving faster, bobbing his head up and down as Geralt gently began meeting his movements with light thrusts.
In a daze, Geralt looked up at Jaskier's face, and oh, he was fucking gorgeous: his eyes half-closed like he was drunk with pleasure, his pretty mouth flushed red and shiny as he dragged his mouth over Geralt's cock. It was the sexiest thing that Geralt had ever seen and the sight made him groan. "Jaskier…"
Their gaze locked then and Geralt felt time like time stood still for a moment. Despite the shuddering buildup of pleasure, Geralt's orgasm still took him by surprise, slamming into him like a speeding train. He gasped and threw his head back as he came, his cock pulsing into Jaskier's needy mouth as he continued to suck and swallow, leaving Geralt feeling boneless. Slowly, Jaskier crawled back up Geralt's body, his expression one of contentment and revery. Geralt didn't feel like he deserved to be looked upon like that, least of all by Jaskier. He pulled him into a slow, sensual kiss, revelling in the moment before reality came crashing down around them again and what they had just done.
