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Vesemir would have my hide if he saw me now, sleeping through the doorknob rattling, the Inn door's cheap lock turning, only waking up to the hissing voice coming from the far corner the room.
"Pssst, Eskel!" A small ball of parchment bounces off his pillow.
"Eskel, are you awake?"
Familiar juniper and honeysuckle.
The floorboards creaking as someone bounces on the balls of their feet, an exhilarated heartbeat thrumming.
Jaskier was wisely lobbing his parchment from across the room. He only made the mistake of trying to wake Eskel up by crowding close and poking him once, and evidently ending up knocked on his ass with six-and-a-half feet of Witcher standing over him was an effective lesson.
The witcher in question groaned, but the sound and smell of Jaskier's happiness filled the room and left no opportunity for a jarring and worried wake-up.
Jaskier's eyes were shining with glee—visible even in their dark room—and laughter in his voice as he enthused, "Eskel, dear heart, there are falling stars!"
"Falling stars?" Eskel's voice was gravelly with sleep and threaded through with confusion, "...and?"
"'And', he says!" The ribbons adorning Jaskier's sleeves danced and jerked with his indignant flailing. "Just and ? Dear heart, this wondrous spectacle is rare . I've only had a single glorious evening painted with the light of unknowable and unreachable comets in all of my twenty-one years! A cosmic delight, and one—" Jaskier bounced forward and tugged on the arm of an increasingly bemused and awake Witcher—"I must insist you witness."
"My dreams of falling back to sleep aren't going to happen any time soon, are they?" Eskel could feel his lips twitch in begrudging amusement.
"Don't be dramatic. Sleep after we watch this, after we experience this wonder! Now, if you'll be so kind, please allow me to tug you to your feet and over to your boots"—Jaskier gave a pointed tug to the arm remaining infuriatingly unmoved— "or perhaps show some enthusiasm and we can run outside before all the beauty in the sky gets lost to your dreaming and lollygagging."
Finally rising to his feet and donning his boots in record time, Eskel allowed himself to be tugged behind the inn and into a moonlit clearing.
Despite the curtain of stars, he couldn't turn away from the man beaming up into the night; bright eyes dancing with excitement and wonder, his blinding smile, his heartbeat thrummed with excitement and joined the noises of glee and wonder tumbling past his lips in a tide of sound.
"—Eskel, Eskel! Are you even paying attention?"
"Yeah, Jaskier," Eskel's mouth went dry and he absently rubbed at his scarred cheek. "I am."
His breath caught in his chest as Jaskier's sunshine smile lit up the space between them, a smile that left no room for crushing darkness, even with the moon and stars shining in the night. All at once, Jaskier seemed to belong among them; larger than life, belonging amongst others who shine as he does, entirely out of reach for most— but most out of reach for him.
"Excellent!" Jaskier enthused before he trailed off, his eyes and tone gentled, his excitement tempering into something softer. Their eyes locked, sky-blue holding his amber. "While there's a certain poetry in a lone bard gazing up into the cosmos, there's an odyssey to be written with company such as yours."
Like flowers drawn to face the sun, in the darkness they drew together. Their gazes caught in the gravity and unable to look anywhere but at each other.
The soft material of Jaskier's trousers made him feel fragile as Eskel's hands settled on his slim hips, the bard's body heat warming his hands and stoking a fire within his own heart.
Perhaps, this is one star he simply can hold. One star that's reaching and not falling, one star that's reaching for him.
The heady notes of honeysuckle and juniper grow honey-thick with the scent of Jaskier's desire. Intoxicating
Jaskier's hands, almost always the loudest (silent) accompaniment in any conversation, fall as quiet as the breaths shared between them and rest gently over a broad chest, over a Witcher-slow heartbeat.
"Truly a beautiful night," Jaskier breathed.
Softly, Eskel murmured,"Truly, it is. I've seen a dozen evenings with stars falling from the sky in dozens of decades, but none that can compare to this."
"Eskel," One of Jaskier's hands slid up the broad chest in front of him to cradle his scarred face. His thumb tracing the curve of Eskel's parted lips, both men shivering in unison. "Have you wished upon a falling star yet?"
In this moment, in the long months of coveted friendship and shared travels, in the countless lingering touches and soft glances; in this moment, just waiting for a falling star, Eskel couldn't answer with anything but the secret locked deep in his chest and guarded for seasons. "I wished for love."
Eskel's hand cradled the nape of Jaskier's neck, waiting. Hoping.
Hope that stretched out for every thump of Jaskier's quick heartbeat, hope that hung in the air for
One shaking breath out,
One breath in.
"Dear heart, you have mine," Jaskier replied, voice quiet but steady; spoken like an inexorable promise, like an unshakable truth, "you have always had my love."
Weather chapped lips met in the middle, and he could feel Jaskier's smile pressed against his own.
The stars were still falling, the moon was still hanging overhead, and the two men still fell deeper in love with every kiss.
And later, with every shared smile, with every stupid joke; even still with frayed tempers, with reluctant apologies before they turn sincere, with moments of fear and sadness and grief, and with growing pains as their relationship grows together —still, they fall deeper in love.