Work Text:
Everything in Jaskier is longing to scream until his throat is raw enough to justify calling in sick for the next two to four business months. His anxiety is through the roof, his skin tingling every time his phone vibrates with another message, his laptop pings with a new email or his coworkers stop by his desk to have a little chat. He wants to scream, but the very thought of that makes his already shaking hands tremble even more, and he has to work himself through the sixth breathing exercise that day alone. It’s not even 3pm yet.
Reaching for his phone, he ignores all the notifications and instead goes to his chat with Lambert.
Jask [2:21 pm] - i want to go home
Jask [2:21 pm] - tell my mom to come pick me up
Jask [2:22 pm] - or better yet, you come pick me up 🥺☹️
It doesn’t take long for Lambert to come online and for Jaskier to get a text back.
Lambi 🦌 [2:24 pm] - I’ll be there at 4 with sugar and caffeine, yeah?
Jask [3:24 pm] - i love you more than words can express. but also please something with cinnamon? 👀
Lambi 🦌 [2:25 pm] - Done
Lambi 🦌 [2:25 pm] - Here, have pictures of otters in hats
Lambi 🦌 [2:25 pm] - 5 attachments
As Jaskier scrolls through the pictures and shakes his head at how wonderfully inept his boyfriend is when it comes to emotions while still managing to cheer him up each and every time, the itch under his skin subsides. He doesn’t want to scream anymore, instead all he wants now is to hug Lambert and to just exist in his arms for the rest of the day with nothing but caffeine, sugar and forehead kisses.
When 4pm finally rolls around, Jaskier all but jumps out of his chair, grabs his stuff without so much as a goodbye, and races down the stairs to find Lambert waiting for him. That wonderful, wonderful man with his ginormous coffee travel mug and a cinnamon roll the size of Jaskier’s fist, his arms opened wide in invitation that Jaskier only too gladly accepts.
“I love you,“ he tells Lambert, pressing a kiss to his cheek. „I love you, I love you, I love you.“
Standing out here now, the sun on his face, breathing in Lambert’s familiar scent, all the tension falls from his shoulders. It almost leaves him feeling hollow, but he tries not to think about that too much.
“Just admit it, you love the coffee more,“ Lambert sighs as he presses the mug into Jaskier’s delighted hands.
It is then that Jaskier realises he hasn’t eaten anything yet today, and that the dull ache just above his eyebrows might actually be caused by drinking too little. He’s not been great at taking care of himself between Essi’s broken heart, Yen’s latest mood swings, reminding Eskel of his worth and value, and just taking on everyone’s problems. He’s Jaskier, taking care of people is what he does. He shouldn’t complain that they love him, that they trust him enough with their deepest and darkest parts and value his input.
And the tricky thing is, he does love being there for them. Loves being the person they confide hin, loves existing in other people’s lives as the one person who always has the right thing to say, who can always solve their problems. A bit of sunshine on an otherwise dreary day.
But now the headaches are getting stronger, his anxiety is through the roof, he can barely focus on work, and even though there are so many things he wants to ask Lambert, wants to tell him, he finds that his throat is constricting. In fact, the very thought of talking to him makes his skin tingle again.
“You okay?” Lambert asks, and Jaskier only nods as he sips his coffee. “Come here.”
The words are gentle and Jaskier doesn’t even hesitate before he leans into Lambert’s chest, lets the other man’s arms close around him and his one wish of existing in his love’s arms with coffee and pastries comes true. A gentle kiss is pressed to his forehead, another to his temple, and Jaskier wants to cry.
“Wanna go home?” Lambert asks, and Jaskier nods hesitantly. Not yet, he thinks. Let me have this first.
Lambert hums and rubs his hands over Jaskier’s arms, replacing the tension there with warmth.
“In a minute?”
He nods again, relieved that Lambert always, always understands him.
“You gonna tell me what’s wrong?”
No. Can’t talk. He shakes his head.
“That’s fine,” Lambert promises. “Take your time. I’ve got you.”
They stay like that for another ten minutes before Jaskier has finished the coffee and the cinnamon roll, and has breathed in enough of Lambert to feel like he can walk without tripping over the weight of everything that’s pulling him down. Lambert’s hand at the small of his back is his anchor, and Jaskier kisses him deeply before accepting the offered front seat in the car.
He might be gruff, that love of his, but he never fails to hold open the car door for Jaskier, and it melts his heart every time. Even when they fight, even when one of them is pissed at the other, Lambert holds the door open until Jaskier is sitting comfortably.
I love you, he would say if he had any words left.
His phone vibrates.
Jaskier wants to cry again.
Lambert’s worried eyes rest on him heavily and Jaskier hates it. Doesn’t want to make him worry, doesn’t want to cause any distress.
His phone vibrates again and he sees it’s a message from Essi, but before he can unlock his phone, Lambert snatches it from him.
“You’re not here, Jask,” he says gently, holding onto the phone. “Is this what it’s about, what has you so completely exhausted that you’ve gone full nonverbal on me? Why you’re not eating, not sleeping?”
There’s no judgment in his voice, no disdain, but the worry is so clear that Jaskier can’t stop his eyes from filling with tears. He looks away, holding out his hand for his phone but Lambert doesn’t relent. Instead, he ducks his head to meet Jaskier’s eye again.
“You know you don’t owe anyone your time, right?”
It stings. It stings because no, he doesn’t.
“You don’t always have to be there for everyone, Jask.”
That’s easy for him to say, though, because Lambert is only ever on his phone for Jaskier anyway, barely talks with his brothers about heavy topics because these three men have a different way of communicating that kind of stuff, and Lambert never has to navigate someone else’s bad days and relationship with themself.
He frowns, demands his phone. This could be important, Essi could need him, Yen could be apologising, Eskel could be thought dumping on him about what it means to be aroace and Jaskier needs to be there to stop the self loathing before it can even start because in this world it is just way too easy to spiral out of control and he doesn’t want to be at fault, not when he could have stopped it, not when—
“Hey, breathe,” comes Lambert’s voice through the haze of his mind, and before Jaskier realises what’s happening, he finds himself in Lambert’s lap on their couch, breathing through the tears and failing, failing, failing. “Come on, love, in and out. With me. You’ve got this, come on. In. Yes, like that. And out. Hold it for a second. And in again. Yes, you’re wonderful.”
It helps.
It’s good.
Everything is fine.
It helps.
Until his phone vibrates again and Lambert growls, pulling Jaskier closer until his nose is tucked into the other man’s neck.
“I’m going to text them, okay? Whoever it is, I’m gonna tell them that you need a break. And then I’m gonna draw you a bath, get that tension out of your shoulders. Make you eat. And we’re gonna snuggle up right here with Midnight in Paris, alright? Then, if you have words, you’re gonna tell me what’s weighing down that beautiful mind of yours, okay?”
Jaskier only nods, wants to cry out in relief, wants to hide, to run, to not be so weak. Wants his skin to stop tingling, his lungs to stop aching, his mind to stop racing. He wants a world where there is only himself and Lambert and everyone’s problems disappear until Jaskier has learned to breathe again.
“I love you,” Lambert tells him then, fingers running through his hair, massaging his scalp until Jaskier feels like all that’s left of him is a puddle. “You get to take breaks. You’re too good for the world, man. I don’t know how you do it. You’re, like. The best person I know. The best. Because you care so much, because you always want to help, because you’re just… You. But you gotta believe me when I say that more often than you think, being you is already enough. You don’t gotta be everyone’s therapist, everyone’s saviour, everyone’s emergency contact. Hell, you don’t even gotta be everyone’s friend! You just gotta be Jaskier. My Jask. That’s more than enough. And if the world complains about it, I’m just gonna punch it in the face.”
That last part is said with an audible grin, and Jaskier sobs, laughs, doesn’t even fucking know what he’s feeling anymore.
But when he finally stills, when his mind feels empty like his tears have washed away every single thought, he reaches for Lambert’s hand and joins their fingers. Not a second later, Lambert raises their joined hands to his lips and presses one, two, three kisses to his knuckles.
“You back with me?”
Jaskier shakes his head, just to be difficult, and Lambert chuckles.
“Yeah, you’re back alright. Come on, let’s get you into the tub, yeah?”
He doesn’t budge an inch, but that has never stopped his boyfriend who unceremoniously gets up from the couch with Jaskier still clinging to him as though he wears nothing. Stupid muscly mechanic that can carry him around however he pleases. He loves him so much. Still, he punches him in the chest and revels in the laugh he gets for it.
In the bath, there is no phone to vibrate, no call to answer, no email to read. There are not expectations. Only Lambert with his wonderful hands, and Jaskier leans back and closes his eyes.
“That’s it,” his love rumbles behind him. “Just relax, baby, I’ve got you.”
Jaskier hums and believes it. Thinks of otters in stupid hats, thinks of car doors, of Lambert threatening to punch the world in the face if it won’t let Jaskier believe that he is enough. He thinks of coffee with too much sugar in it, just the way Jaskier needs it. Thinks of leftover lasagna and cuddles on the couch.
Knows that he wants this for the rest of his life. Maybe he should start looking at rings.