#geralt unwillingly participates in musical numbers

[bounce-a-coin-off-your-witcher]

Bouncy, if you dont mind the request, would you consider writing something that would involve Jaskier singing "Off with his shirt" from Galavant in it?

Yeah, I’ve been putting this off for a minute...

tw: horny

---

Geralt allowed his brothers to usher him into a pair of clean, comfortable black jeans and his usual biker boots. He was confused, however, when they insisted that he wear a flowing white shirt that looked like it had been stolen from the closet of a Disney prince. “What the fuck is this?”

“It’s a themed bar,” Eskel explained, gesturing to his own vaguely-medieval getup. “You have to dress at least slightly in costume or they won’t let you in.”

“And the drinks are delicious and reasonably priced,” Lambert urged. “I don’t like going out in public, but I love this place.”

“Fine,” the middle brother grouched, slipping into the required outfit. “But if this is one of those weird gay bars you keep dragging me to I’m going to-”

---

To absolutely nobody’s surprise, it was one of those weird gay bars they kept dragging him to. Only this time they at least explained that the owner/bar manager was just his type and really flirtatious. Great. Excellent. Things he didn’t need right now: his brothers meddling and a potential romantic interlude. 

He was already too busy. 

Alas, they were insistent. And stronger than him when they teamed up. 

---

“Eskel, Lambert, good to see you boys again!” a strange brunette man practically bounced over to meet them. He was wearing tight blue silk pants and a very revealing white shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. The sight of his eyes, brighter blue than his pants and sparkling in the dim light of the ‘tavern’, had Geralt’s heart galloping in his chest. “Just in time, too.”

“Is it ten o’clock already?” Lambert mused, glancing down at his wrist as if a watch might suddenly sprout there and reveal the time. “Oh, why I suppose it is! We wouldn’t want our brother here to miss the show, Jaskier.”

“Did you boys plan this?” the man (Jaskier apparently) asked, turning and making his way up a short staircase. He gestured at Geralt, who blushed crimson at the attention. “Is that why you brought this cutie along?” 

“Mayyyyybe,” Eskel drawled, very suspiciously. Geralt didn’t like where this was going. Not at all. Not even a little bit. 

“Well get in position boys,” the lights suddenly dimmed and a spotlight brightened on Jaskier. “It’s time!”

A cheer rang out through the bar and Geralt was yanked back onto the dance floor by his brothers. He watched, fascinated and terrified, as a troupe of well-organized dancers in matching medieval costumes appeared around Jaskier. Music swelled from the speakers and the bar owner began to sing (rather prettily): 

“You trespassed upon my kingdom, Now you are in my sway... Which basically means as the Queen of all Queens, (this line came with a wink) I'm going to make you pay!”

A cheer rang out again and Geralt realized with growing apprehension that a second spotlight had been turned on and focused on him. He shot a glare at Lambert, who was grinning like a giddy schoolchild and another at Eskel, who was staring at the ceiling like nothing was happening at all. Two of the dancers grabbed Jaskier under the arms and brought him to stand directly in front of the blushing, white-haired ‘interloper’. 

“Well, one thing for sure, We'll settle the score, And trust me it's more than fair!

Off with his shirt!” 

Geralt’s eyes went wide when Eskel and Lambert both reached for him and ripped the shirt from his shoulders. They gave me a tearaway outfit and I didn’t even realize. These fuckers are going to pay when this is all over...

Jaskier nearly missed a line in his song, those blue eyes too busy scanning hungrily over Geralt’s chest and abdomen. The anxious horse-trainer was glad he spent so much time at the gym (and lifting haybales when no one else wanted to) because the brunette was pretty cute himself, and Geralt didn’t mind the attention he was getting at the moment.

He suffered through the rest of the musical number, pushed and pulled around the dancefloor and even once behind the bar by the dancers and Jaskier. When it all ended and the crowd resumed their drinking and dancing, Geralt found himself with a large drink in his hand and a new, far more comfortable black t-shirt.

“Sorry about that little misunderstanding,” Jaskier frowned, sitting down next to him on one of the plush barstools. “Your brothers told me you were prepared but clearly they lied. If I’d known you didn’t sign up for that yourself, I wouldn’t have used you as my volunteer at all; consent is really important around here, especially to me.”

“It’s alright,” Geralt gave a lopsided grin. “It was actually kind of fun. You have a great singing voice.”

“Oh, why thank you,” the half-stranger’s blue eyes fluttered. “Your drinks are on the house for the rest of the night, just so you know.”

“Thanks. You don’t have to do that.”

“I know. You���re hot,” the brunette smirked. “And I hear you’re great with horses. Want to hang out some time when we’re not at work or inebriated?”

“Yeah. That would be great. Maybe then we can take your shirt off this time.”