Work Text:
Jaskier loudly strummed yet another dissonant note. Geralt’s eye twitched.
“Are you finished?” Geralt grit out, turning a glare to the other side of the couch.
Jaskier rolled his eyes. “Geralt, I am an artist,” he said, playing another dissonant note. “I need to find the perfect off-putting chord, I can’t just play any random chord that comes to mind.”
Geralt growled and shut his laptop, barely refraining from slamming it. “Sure as hell seems like that’s all you’re doing.”
Jaskier scoffed and gave him an offended look. Then, in revenge, reached up and purposefully untuned a couple of his guitar strings and began strumming as loud as he possibly could.
Geralt lost it.
He launched across the couch and wrenched the guitar out of Jaskier’s hands, holding it high above his head. Jaskier stretched up to try and reach for it, but, despite how close they were in height, Geralt still had the advantage.
“Maybe if I beat you over the head with it, it’ll make the note you’re looking for.”
Jaskier scoffed again and cocked his hips to the side, putting his hands on his hips. “You’re not allowed to hurt me. As if you would ever.”
Geralt let out a frustrated huff. It was true, he wouldn’t.
Geralt resisted the urge to step back as Jaskier moved closer, beginning to smirk. “I know how to get you to give it back, anyway.”
Geralt raised an eyebrow. “Hmm?”
Jaskier wiggled his fingers in the air above Geralt’s armpit, smirk growing into a teasing grin. “Big tough guy like you? No way you’re not ticklish.”
Geralt locked every joint in his body, taking measured breaths to help him keep a straight face. “I’m not.”
Jaskier gave him a patronizing smile and touched his fingers down in Geralt’s armpit. It took all of Geralt’s willpower not to break immediately. He’d forgotten how truly ticklish he was, since he and his brothers had grown out of the playful torment so many years ago. Not to mention, it was usually him and Eskel against Lambert, anyway. He didn’t have much experience on the receiving end.
His stomach swooped as Jaskier let out a little evil laugh. “You’re faking.”
“You can’t prove that,” Geralt replied, speaking far too quickly. He barely stopped himself from gritting his teeth through the words and making it even more obvious.
“You’re cute when you’re lying,” Jaskier said.
And then he lunged.
Geralt couldn’t help his yelp of surprise as Jaskier managed to tackle him to the ground. Most of his focus went toward making sure Jaskier’s guitar didn’t smash against the floor, as well, and both hands went up to protect it.
In both an expected and unexpected move, Jaskier’s hands shot up into both his hollows. Geralt’s guard had gone down in his worry for the instrument, and he had no defense left to stop the startled laughter that was forced out of him. Geralt dropped the guitar the last few inches and it dropped harmlessly to the carpet with a gentle thud.
“I knew you were ticklish!” Jaskier crowed.
Geralt couldn’t respond for a few moments, trying to adjust to the sensation. It was far more intense than Geralt ever remembered it being, and either Geralt had gotten more ticklish over time, or his brothers and Vesemir were just shit at tickling.
“Jaskier!” He eventually managed to growl out through his laughter.
“Yes, dear heart?” Jaskier cooed.
“Get out!”
Jaskier gave him a little faux-pout and tugged lightly at his hands, caught in Geralt’s armpits from his arms pressing into his sides. “You see, darling, I would, but the thing is, I’m trapped! You’ll have to raise your arms and free me if you ever want to be free from my tickles!”
Geralt squeezed his eyes shut and tossed his head back against the floor as Jaskier switched from lightly skittering his fingers to wiggling them as deep into the muscles as he could manage, with his limited movement. Geralt wheezed and cackled and tried to roll away, but Jaskier quickly planted himself on Geralt’s waist and foiled his escape.
“Wow, you’re not even trying! I wonder, maybe the big, bad gym rat likes the tickles? Maybe he doesn’t want them to stop?”
Geralt swallowed a squeal as Jaskier hit a sweet spot on the edge of his armpit. He’d never admit it out loud, but Jaskier wasn’t necessarily wrong. Geralt wasn’t not having fun.
But Jaskier was getting a little too cocky for his own good.
Geralt tossed his body to the side with as much of his weight as he could, making Jaskier yelp as the two of them rolled. His hands slipped out of Geralt’s armpits at the sudden move, and they grappled for dominance for a few moments.
Geralt wound up being the one on top, straddling Jaskier’s hips and pinning his hands under his knees. He let Jaskier struggle for a few moments before planting his hands on either side of Jaskier’s head and leaning in close.
“You made a mistake, Jaskier.”
“Wha--”
“I have two brothers.”
Jaskier’s eyes went wide, but he didn’t have a chance to beg for mercy before Geralt attacked, reaching one hand behind him to dig into Jaskier’s thigh while the other started kneading at his stomach. Jaskier screamed in laughter, his voice reaching octaves Geralt didn’t even knew he had, but Geralt didn’t stop.
The noise complaint was worth it.