to grow a winter garden [jaskier x reader] [complete]

4. the silhouette of a single memory

"A little birdie told me there is a soiree later this week," Jaskier says, sweeping through the door to your quarters like a force of nature. The week is only half over and you are already so tired, but you won't not wait up for him.

"The only little birdie I know is you," you tell him, looking up from your place on the couch. At this rate, the cushions will be permanently molded to the shape of your body.

"Well, this little birdie was Shani, who came by to see my set and to ask me why she hadn't heard of my intent to go," he says, settling his lute case on the floor and then stopping to take off his boots. When he stands again, you move your feet so that he can sit at the other end of the couch, and then you put them back at home in his lap.

"Sorry, I didn't think to mention it," you tell him, which is true. "I already knew I wasn't going to go, so..." You lay your book down on your stomach to give him your full attention. "I should have thought that you would want to go."

"You aren't going to go? But what about Antoni's beautiful dress?" Of course Jaskier latches on to the part that you were hoping he'd ignore. You're not sure how often he's been back to Antoni's, but you're pretty sure he's a fair fan of the other man now.
You've also, largely, been trying to forget about the dress. It's hanging in your wardrobe in the other room, mocking you every time you go to change to go to work.

"Parties aren't usually my thing," you say with a sigh, which — is technically true. But you're also tired and you don't think you can bear to watch Jaskier flirt with everyone that catches his eye. Not... Well, not knowing what you know, now. Just thinking about it makes your stomach twist.

"Oh, darling." He's looking at you, and he's — too damn perceptive, sometimes, because he asks: "will the person that holds your heart be there?"

"...maybe," you answer, ignoring the swooping in your gut. You don't enjoy talking about it, even though you know there's nothing unkind in him asking. There's no way he knows, after all.

"Then that's all the better reason to go! You can tell me who they are, and by the end of the evening you'll be kissing under the moonlight." A beat. "If you want that, of course."

"...I do want that," you tell him, resolutely not looking at him. He knows you far too well; you're afraid your feelings are plain to read on your face.

He rubs your knee, other hand curling around your ankle. You decidedly ignore it. Doesn't mean anything. "C'mon, I'll make sure you have a good time. Won't make you talk to anyone you don't want to."

"That's a big promise," you mutter. And this is just further evidence that he knows you — knows you don't mind music and dancing and drinks, just dislike all of the small talk with strangers and distant acquaintances. You've never been good at rubbing elbows like he is.

His hand is warm on your skin, calluses rough enough to catch your attention, and you resolutely do not focus in on that.

"It's one I can keep, for you," he says, because apparently you weren't quiet enough, and there's so much earnestness in his voice you can feel it. "Now, won't you tell me who's caught your eye?" You feel him lean in more than you see it, because you're still looking at your lap. "Or... Are you going to make me guess?"

Oh. That's a good idea. He'd never guess himself, and you won't have to confess, and maybe he'll drop it once he gets it wrong a few times. It's just four more weeks until spring is supposed to break, and then you'll have all the time you could possibly need to get over him — to get over it. To move on.

"You can guess, and I'll let you know if you get it right," you say, smirking because Jaskier is a consistent man and you know he will go for the challenge.

"I accept," he returns, grinning over at you, and oh, your terrible heart swoops again.

"Good luck," you offer him, and then you're laughing together, and — this is perfect. You will not ruin this with your feelings. Not when you only have him for a little while longer.