doesntsing | open post

Of course he has a huge mirror. That’s the least surprising feature of the room.

Midge furrows her brow at his question. “No… we spoke last week to set up plans to get together and she told me that you probably hadn’t texted me back because of bad service on the monster hunt.” Was it desperate of her to even ask why he hadn’t texted her back? Jaskier technically didn’t owe her a response. “Then the next day she told me that you were sick and I asked her if it was alright to come see you.” A beat. “Maybe I should have asked you.”

Maybe he doesn’t want her here.

"Oh." Well, he feels silly now. When she says she should've asked, he immediately shakes his head, which doesn't help with his headache. "Nonono! I want you here. Seeing you makes me happy." Not even right now, just... in general. "I was worried they dragged you to be my nanny. Although you're much better than my old nanny. Gods, I hated that bitch." So much random rambling. Then his eyes widen. "Or maybe they're pranking me." He suddenly giggles. "I brought a girl to my room. I broke the rules."

Yes, he's implying she's the first lover in this world who has seen his house.

“Your nanny wasn’t some poor old granny?” Midge asks, smiling again. She’s glad that he wants her here.

“You did. Unfortunately for you, it’s not going to be a conjugal visit.”

Jaskier definitely seems loopy and out of it. Maybe it’s the fever.

"I wish. I could've outrun a poor old granny." He rubs his eyes as he thinks about the old days, the fever completely messing with his boundaries. "She wasn't even a nanny. I called her that to piss her off. And governess was harder to pronounce."

He laughs at her joke, although it quickly transforms into lots of coughing. "Would you believe me if I say I'm not in the mood? My whole body is sore. Even my pinky."

Midge raises an eyebrow when he says the word governess. “So she was more like a tutor?” Perhaps it’s wrong to try to get information about how he grew up out of him while he’s sick, but Midge doesn’t think she’s pressing too hard.

“I’m actually shocked,” she replies. “You must be on death’s door.”

"Mmm-mmh. Always with a ruler ready to smack." He winces at the memory. "Father liked how strict she was. I still wonder if he ever fucked her."

The same thing happens then: laughing ends up in a coughing fit. "Does that make you the angel that came for my soul?"

Despite not knowing his father or the governess, Midge doesn’t really want to picture that. “Was he unfaithful to your mother?” she asks.

Reaching out, she puts her hand to Jaskier’s head. He’s warm. “You’re not dead yet, are you?”

"He fucked as many maids as she fucked stable boys." He doesn't even sound sad or mad. It was expected - they had been an arranged marriage for power. Their only responsibility was to keep up the smiles in public.

Jaskier instantly melts under her touch, and a little happy sigh escapes his lips. Her question goes unheard. "Pet my head?"

“I see…”

No wonder he has such problems with commitment; neither of his parents were committed to each other. “What was your childhood like?”

The request is sweet and she can’t deny it. Gently, her hand moves back, smoothing down his hair. It’s sweaty and unkempt but still soft.

"Stuffy. Restrictive." He wants to think of more adjectives, but he continues to melt under her petting. As usual, her nails make his whole body shiver. Although that may be the fever.

Unfortunately, another coughing fit comes, and this one is so bad that Jaskier needs to sit up. As the blankets fall, Midge will notice he's wearing pajama pants and a tanktop a little too big for his body - clearly Geralt's. There's a reason for such a choice in clothing: there's a bandage around his shoulder and part of his chest. The most upsetting part is the veins around that area, which look green.

Midge is getting the inkling that Jaskier’s childhood wasn’t just stuffy and restrictive, but rich. For some aspects of his personality, that actually makes a lot of sense.

She feels like a shrink asking about his childhood, though she doesn’t think hair stroking is part of psychotherapy. When he sits up, he moves away from her hand. That wound looks nasty and otherworldly, like nothing she’s ever seen before. This is why she doesn’t visit swamps.

Once the coughing fit passes, Midge moves to perch on the edge of his bed, then continues stroking his hair. She feels like his mother. Freud would be pleased.

“That looks painful.”

To be fair, his mother was never this caring, so at least there won't be any Freudian slips from him.

Jaskier's surprised to see her come this close, considering his current state, so he's truly touched. He barely blinks at her before he's resting his head on her shoulder. His body may be shivering, but he's craving human contact more, so he's happy to stay there and sigh again.

"It isn't so bad now that Yennefer sedated it. You should've seen it when it happened; I was a walking emerald." Meaning, the green veins were all over his body. "But at first? Yeah, hurt like fucking hell. My insides were burning."

Freudian or not, her mom instincts are kicking in. All men turn into little boys when they’re sick. Midge wouldn’t be here if she didn’t mind having him get close to her.

“You know, some people say green is the worst color, but I disagree. I’m sure you looked fantastic in green.”

That makes him smile. "I look fantastic in everything. Maybe we should both put on some green for our plans in the bushes." Just because he isn't in the mood to fuck now, it doesn't mean he can't think about it.

At that moment, Yennefer comes in without even knocking. Her hair is up in a bun, which wouldn't be a big deal for anyone else. But letting a visitor see her like this? Speaks volumes about how hard she's working to get Jaskier better.

"I could hear your lungs leaving your body from downstairs," she says before Jaskier sticks his tongue out at her. Very mature. His head doesn't leave Midge's shoulder until Yennefer touches his forehead... with her free hand. The other one has a glass with a black and gray potion. "This should help you breathe, at least." Jaskier reaches for it, but Yennefer moves it away. "Not with an empty stomach." She turns to Midge. "Would you mind bringing him some food?" She knows Midge brought something, just not what.

When Midge comes back, Jaskier is sitting against a pile of pillows and Yennefer's glowing hand is on his shoulder, making the green slip back under the bandage. "Thank you," she tells Midge with a nod. The potion is left on the night table, which is covered with used tissues and an empty tea mug. "Don't get any funny ideas," she warns Jaskier before leaving the room.

“So we match the nature around us?” she asks. “Before we take off our clothes at least.” Another thing about men, they can think about sex no matter what’s going on.

At Yennefer’s request, Midge goes downstairs to get Jaskier some soup. After finding a bowl and a tray, Midge ladles the soup into the bowl and then places the bowl on the tray. She finds a spoon and then walks carefully back upstairs with the tray.

She watches as Yennefer leaves, then carefully places the tray on Jaskier’s lap. “What are you getting funny ideas about?”

"Fucking," he replies as he follows every movement of Midge with a goofy smile on his face. He likes being pampered, but he also likes Midge simply being there. "She didn't believe me when I said my body is too sore to do anything now. She doesn't trust my hands." And for a good reason. Yennefer's magic has temporarily encapsulated the poison and therefore calmed the fever a little, but his body is still warm and his mind is still high on a bad combo of body temperature and toxins. His boundaries are still down.

The soup looks fantastic, and with the poison under control for now, his stomach has settled. The smell alone already makes him hungry. "Thank you, darling." He raises the spoon and tastes the broth, humming in delight. "Oh, this is good." He pokes at the matzo balls with the spoon. "What are these?"

“We’re not fucking,” Midge tells him. Sitting next to him and stroking his hair is as much as he’s getting today.

She sits back down in the chair. “Matzo balls. They’re made from unleavened bread called matzos, kind of like crackers. They can be broken down to a sort of corn meal that’s then mixed with eggs and oil and formed into balls. They become very soft when they’re cooked in the broth.”

"I know! I told her so! Is it my fault if she doesn't believe me?" Yes, Jaskier, you have a reputation. "Even if my body wasn't nasty and sore, I promised I wouldn't do any fucking in the house because of Ciri, who will come back from school at any moment. Funny enough, that has never stopped them." Meaning Geralt and Yennefer. But he doesn't really mean it, he's just teasing. A 'married couple' getting it on isn't the same as bringing random strangers. And Jaskier wouldn't want to share this with one-night stands either. Midge is different. "At least they've been careful since Ciri came into their lives. Do you have any idea how many times I've walked on them through the years?"

(Geralt would want to point out he's walked on Jaskier even more times, so they're even.)

As soon as she finishes listing the ingredients, Jaskier bites one of the balls. Another appreciative hum leaves his lips before he quickly finishes it. "This is delicious. Maybe we should hire you as our chef."

“I think your reputation proceeds you, my darling bard,” Midge tells him. This is the only time she hasn’t seen him horny, because he looks like he’s on death’s door. Whatever Yennefer did seems to have caused a bit of improvement though.

“I’m glad you like it.” She smiles. “I’ll make my brisket for you next time.”

Jaskier pouts at her teasing, and his fuzzy brain makes the wrong connection. "Fucking women on their monthlies is not the same as fucking while sick."

He eats another ball and sips more broth before finally grabbing the potion, only drinking half of it now. His nose wrinkles at the taste and he mumbles fucking witches before going back to the soup, which tastes a million times better.

"I can't wait," he replies between sips and bites. "Sorry I worried you this week. I know how hard it can be. When Geralt takes longer with a hunt than usual, it can get quite nerve-wracking as well. What Yennefer told you is true, however. Sometimes I won't be able to reply in the middle of a hunt." He looks at her with glazed but still soft eyes and a small smile. "So I hope you can be patient with me."

Part of his brain detects he's putting some extra weight under those words, but he can't tell what.

“You don’t let anything stop you, do you?” Midge asks, a smile playing at her lips. She’s never done that, and isn’t even sure if she’d want to. Joel was always very grossed out by that.

Midge removes the tray and sits back down on the edge of the bed. “It’s fine. I didn’t… think you technically owed me a reply anyway.”

That’s the nature of their relationship, isn’t it? But Midge cares enough about him to want to make sure he’s okay.

"Sickness is stopping me," he replies with another pout.

As soon as she sits on the bed, he puts his head on her shoulder again, bringing up a blanket to cover his shivering body. Her presence is really comforting. Her comment, though, makes him frown a little. "Are we not friends? It would be rude of me to ignore a friend's message. You don't have to drop whatever you're doing to answer my silly messages but... if you stopped talking to me, I'd miss you. I like chatting with you."

“Yes, you’re right,” Midge replies. “I wasn’t thinking of it that way.” She meant that they aren’t exclusive. This isn’t a relationship. How close he wants to allow her to get is entirely up to him, though it seems they’ve gotten very close in the short time that they’ve known each other.

“I like chatting with you too.”

"Good," he replies with a smile now. "I'd kiss your cheek right now, but I don't wanna leave snot on your pretty face." He's slurring his words again. "Geralt can't get sick, you know? It's not fair. I bet he'd look hilarious with a snotty nose." Suddenly he snickers. "I blew my nose with my brother's jacket once. It left a stain on his pants when he was riding. It was soooooo funny."

“You were a rascal weren’t you?” Midge asks, then furrows her brow slightly. “Did… your family have money?”

She knows he’s been loathe to talk about it, but he seemed to be opening up earlier. Maybe he won’t mind if she asks some questions.

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