doesntsing | open post

“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.

"How dare you," he says in fake offense, just to tease. "Little Julian was an angel." Translation: he definitely was a rascal. "I'll take an apology in the form of head petting."

The question makes him squirm a bit, but he can't quite understand why. He isn't thinking clearly, but he knows Midge makes him comfortable. "I was disowned when I left," he clarifies as his mind still makes the wrong connections. "So your credit card still wins."

“Julian?” Midge grins, delighted that he told her his real name. She resumes the stroking of his hair.

There’s a bit of silence as Midge thinks about never seeing her family again. She can’t imagine it.

“It’s their loss,” she says quietly.

"Don't call me that." He's pouting again, but it quickly goes away when she starts stroking his hair. Once again, he sighs in the closest thing to content he can be while sick. "Can't be angry at you when you're petting me," he teases.

The silence makes him uncomfortable, even if he can't exactly tell why. He instantly relaxes when she answers, feeling as if he's passed some test.

"You can fucking bet it is," he replies as he searches for her free hand to squeeze it. His body is sore, yet in a weird way he feels-- at peace? Kind of? It's hard to tell anything right now. "Sometimes I like to imagine that me wandering around with a witcher gave father a good ol' heart attack. But I dunno if he realized the famous bard is his estranged son."

Edited 2025-08-16 01:47 (UTC)

“I like it,” she says, pressing a kiss to the top of his head, “but I won’t call you it if you don’t want me to.”

“He probably does. Parents know their own children. I can’t imagine my kids doing something that would make me never want to see them again. It’s hard to know how he feels, I guess.”

Maybe his parents regret running him off, or maybe they’re just assholes.

Oh, the kiss has him nuzzling closer. "It's not a bad name," he clarifies. "Better than fucking Alfred. But I left Julian behind when I left. I am Jaskier. The bard is the real me, not the viscount."

He doesn't think his family truly knew him, but before he can say anything, Midge talks about her own family, and Jaskier knows how hard it's been to juggle career and children. Jaskier squeezes her hand again.

"Your kids are lucky to have you." He tries for a soft, sincere tone of voice, but he's still slurring his words. "Not a single adult in this house had proper parental figures. We don't say it aloud, but I know we all worry about how we're raising Ciri."

Her eyes grow wide and Midge is glad that he can’t see her. “You’re a viscount?” So not just rich, gentry rich. Titled.

“I can let you know when I meet her,” Midge jokes. “Honestly, as long as you love her and protect her and accept her for who she is, then you’re doing just fine.”

"Not anymore. Disowned, remember?" She's so lucky he can't see her. He wouldn't exactly have liked her reaction. "I sang for queens and kings. I was the bard at the most important royal wedding of the decade. My talent got me there, and that's more powerful than the fucking family estate."

Or at least, he likes to think so. He knows reality isn't so kind.

"Nobody in this family of misfits will ever disapprove of anyone for being different, you have my word." A little sigh. "I do want you to meet her. I wish your kids were her age and they have playdates."

“You didn’t want to get by on any advantage that your name or title would have afforded you,” Midge replies. She knows how that is. She never wants to be accused of sleeping with someone in order to gain success. It’s honestly a good thing that Jaskier isn’t more famous here, or she might have turned down his advances.

“Does she babysit?” Ciri’s used to wrangling monsters.

"Mmmh-mmh." He's glad she gets it. People can get angry at the idea of what he could've done with the money, when the real answer is nothing. "Although I suppose I do take advantage of the Pankratz blues to be cuter."

He loves the color of his eyes, damn those great family genes.

"Babysit?" He sounds confused. "Babysit what?"

“So I have your whole name now.” She not going to say it aloud. Julian Alfred Pankratz. The viscount. In some ways, he still has the hedonistic attitude of the titled class. “I guess I have your rotten family to thank for your beautiful eyes.”

Midge glances down at him. “My kids. She could babysit my kids. I’d pay her.”

"My name is Jaskier of Oxenfurt," he immediately corrects her, stubborn even while sick. "Let's not thank them for anything and merely be grateful for the circunstances."

His own eyes are closed, just comfortable to be resting against her. "...oh. That's not a bad idea. I'll talk to the whole family. Mayhaps she can do it just once or twice a week. Teach her to have a job. And... learn more about this world? In your home?"

Midge kisses the top of his head again. “You’re wonderful no matter what your name is.” He’s very insistent and Midge isn’t going to try to persuade him otherwise.

Sitting here stroking his hair, Midge feels like she’s petting a very particular cat.

“She only really would be needed if I’m going out and my parents are also going out. I can always give the kids to Joel, but then I have to bring them over there and get them back if it’s not his weekend… We really do need a babysitter. Do you think she’d be interested?”

"So are you, darling." He's smiling. "Pretend I'm kissing you very softly right now."

He does hum in delight when she pets him, but he'd argue that the cats here are a certain couple. Jaskier sees himself as nothing but a beautiful peacock.

"Honestly? I don't think she would. But I think Geralt and Yennefer may want her to do it, to teach her responsibility and independence. I also think it's a good idea. So let us talk to her."

“I do miss your kisses,” Midge says, closing her eyes as well. “And the way that you touch me.”

No. As much as she might miss him, she would definitely get his cold if she had sex with him, and she’s not sure if any of the green venom would come with it.

He is a beautiful peacock, isn’t he? What does that make her?

“Alright. My kids can be monsters, but she has experience with that. She might like earning her own money too.”

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Midge you said no sex, don't get your panties wet over 'viscount' haha

listen, she’s allowed to be impressed!

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