doesntsing | open post

Midge grumbles at that observation about she and her mother’s relationship, mostly because Jaskier is completely correct. She would love to tell her mother that she doesn’t owe her an explanation, but it would probably just cause more problems.

“Yeah,” Midge sighs. “That could work. I’m tired of having to explain myself to my parents. I love them, but they don’t need to know everything about my life.”

Jaskier can't help but to sigh as well. It kills him seeing her like this. He wraps his arms around her and hugs her tightly.

"I don't think you have to explain yourself, no. My first instinct is to advise you to tell them exactly that." An awkward pause. "But you also have kids. And I know I'm not the right person to comment on how to handle that."

This adds another reason to why he doesn't want them in the first place.

She rests her head on his shoulder, under his chin. Her head seems to fit in that space so well.

“You’re not wrong.” A thought strikes her. “Oh God… I left in the middle of the night. Just… left. Am I a bad mother?”

It’s not the first time she’s had that thought. Obviously if her parents weren’t there, Midge wouldn’t have left her kids all alone, but they could have woken up and been looking for her. What if they discovered that she was gone and they were scared?

"I wouldn't have invited you if I didn't know your parents could watch the children," he clarifies. Honestly, deep down? He isn't so sure - he can be a selfish bastard sometimes. But reassuring her is more important.

Jaskier rubs her back while thinking of what to say. He just wants her to be free - but he also remembers what it's like to have parents who ignore you. What is even the right answer here?

"We should've... handled it better. Left a note or something. But I don't think your leaving was wrong. You need your space, too, Midge. Being a mother doesn't stop you from being a person. And you were having a breakdown. Do you think you could've changed diapers in that state?"

“No,” she replies. “Coming here helped me. I was actually able to sleep.” Midge had been tossing and turning for hours at home. She wipes her eyes and takes a ragged breath. “I don’t want to come up with a lie this time. I’ll tell them that I needed some space and I’ll apologize for not leaving a note, though they hadn’t even noticed that I was gone yet.”

Midge looks up at Jaskier, her blue eyes watery. “I’m sorry to bother you with all of this when you’re sick.”

The fact nobody noticed she was gone says a lot, Jaskier thinks. But it's not the right moment to bring it up. Besides, this is more about her children than her parents - and he can't deny they did fuck up in that regard.

"Oh, darling, never apologize for seeking a shoulder to cry on. Isn't that what friends are for?" It's weird to use the word friends, but there isn't a better option. He reaches for some tissues from his night table to gently wipe her eyes and nose. "Besides, I got to cuddle you. So I can't say I kidnapped you for completely selfless reasons." He winks. It's hard to say if he's being serious or not.

Then he kisses her forehead. "You still want that dress, correct? Because even if you're telling them the truth, I'm assuming you're planning to go back through the front door."

‘Friends’ is probably the best word. ‘Lovers’ sounds weird in this context.

She scrunches her nose a little when he wipes her face. “I enjoyed being cuddled. You’re very nice to sleep with.” Midge means that in both senses of the phrase.

“I probably ought to go in the front door, hadn’t I?… though I don’t have a bra. Hopefully whatever dress you have can hide that fact.”

He smiles softly. "Same to you, darling. You fit really nicely against me." He laughs at the mention of the bra. "That does sound incredibly sexy, to be fair. But don't worry, I got you." He plucks a single strand of hair from her head. "I'll be right back. Enjoy the show, if you want."

If Midge looks out the window, she'll see Geralt and Ciri in the backyard doing sword training. A sweaty Geralt in a tanktop may be good for her mood.

Jaskier comes back moments later with a bundle of clothes in one hand and a tray in the other. There's coffee, warm bread, and jam.

"Would you stay for breakfast at least? I don't think you should go to battle with an empty stomach."

“Ow,” she says when he plucks one of her hairs. Midge imagines it’s for Yennefer to do some kind of spell. Should she be more concerned about the witch having a strand of her hair?

Midge sits on the edge of the bed and watches Geralt spar with Ciri in the yard below. Like the rest of her family, Ciri is beautiful, her hair a golden blonde. It’s the first time Midge has seen her. Sweaty Geralt and his muscled arms are distracting though and she watches him more than the teenage girl.

Oddly, it makes her want Jaskier. He’s not built like Geralt, but he has a very nice body all the same. It’s more than good enough for her.

She grins when he returns with breakfast. “I will. I have some time, assuming I’m going to get home the same way that I got here.”

"Of course. Wouldn't expect you to get in a cab without makeup." Just a bit of teasing. He isn't the kind of person who likes to go out without looking his best, either.

His initial idea is to clean his desk, but he notices where Midge is sitting and grins. He leaves the bundles of clothes on the chair before sitting on the bed next to her, the tray between them. Jaskier has brought her coffee like he remembered from their time at the cafe after their sex marathon, but he's having (a very aromatic) tea.

"Enjoying the view, I take it? If you want a 'taste of that'--" He waggles his eyebrows, grin still in place, tone joking. "Geralt made the bread and the jam." He then drinks his tea, amused by his own stupid joke.

She rolls her eyes fondly at his joke. “The only one I want a taste of is you.” Midge innocently sips her coffee (which he made exactly how she likes it, she noticed) and playfully rubs her toes against his calf.

“I know we can’t have sex here. I have a gig later this week though, so I hope you’ll be feeling better by then.”

Jaskier can't help wondering if that would still be true if Geralt was single. But before his thoughts can wander too far, he feels her toes on his leg.

"She says she knows, yet she teases. Mischievous lady." He nods while spreading jam on a slice of freshly baked bread. "Count me in. Honestly, I'm feeling better already. Today is recovery day. I'll probably be out and about tomorrow." He tilts his head. "Some musician friends told me about an art jam on the weekend. Would you be interested?"

Midge can’t say for certain if she wouldn’t rather be with Geralt, but the fact is that she and Jaskier have much more in common than she and Geralt do. There’s much more to attraction than just the physical and Jaskier stimulates her brain as well as her body.

She picks up a piece of bread and starts to spread jam on it. “What’s an art jam?” she asks.

"Oh Midge, it's this most amazing concept, I was so happy when they told me about it," he explains as his general body language gets rather bouncy. "Artists get together in a club or a bar and just... create! They drink and chat, bounce off each other's ideas. Build something together, or mayhaps simply get inspiration. Great to exchange phone numbers too." He takes a bite of his bread and chews it rapidly when he remembers something. "I guess I need to get those card thingies, don't I."

“Oh,” she replies. “Alright. I guess I can bring my notebook and work on some new jokes.” She’s needed to take some time to do that. Midge might be distracted by all the other artists present, depending on how loud they are, but it can’t hurt to go.

“I never really felt like an artist before I met you. Comedy isn’t seen as an art, you know. Not like painting or ballet.” She shrugs. “I don’t have business cards. Should I have business cards?”

He beams when she agrees to come, clearly very excited to have her there. He promises to send her the details later and takes another bite of his bread, almost choking when she mentions what art is.

"How can it NOT be art? You tell stories! You write! You need creativity! You need timing and charm to take control of the stage! You call out society for their crap! You make people think and feel new things! How are all those things not art? How is it any different from a comedic play? Your characters just happen to be your children and your ex."

Does she need cards? He thinks about that for a second. "I'm not sure how things with a manager work. Is Susie the only one allowed to make contacts?"

His words make her grin. He’s always so complimentary of her and what she does. Midge feels like he’s one of the only people who understands why she has to pursue comedy as a career.

“Thank you,” she replies. “I can make contacts if I want to.” She takes a bite of the bread. “Maybe I do need business cards. What would they say? Mrs. Maisel - Comedian? Would yours say Bard?”

That’s kind of amusing to her.

"Just 'comedian' works. I suppose we can't exactly add 'tits of a goddess'." He winks before taking another bite of his bread, thinking about his answer while chewing.

"Musician. Singer. Composer. Poet. Writer. Chronicler." Suddenly he wrinkles his nose. "I'll have to make a different set for Yennefer's and Geralt's services, won't I? Should I call myself their manager?"

“I could add it,” she says with a little smile, “but I don’t want to be hired just for my fantastic tits.” Midge has been working hard to book gigs because she’s actually funny, not because of how she looks.

“You’re multitalented.” Midge takes another sip of coffee. “How do you think they would feel about you considering yourself their manager.”

Odds are, not happy about it.

He chuckles. "We'll have to hide them. They're very distracting."

The question leaves him thinking for a second. "I don't know. The word is still new to us, we're trying to understand how it works. They want me to do all the talking with clients, promoting, and negotiating. Isn't that what a manager does?"

“Well, I don’t want to hide them completely…” Midge arches her back a little, pushing her breasts forward. Not to entice him too much, but she isn’t wearing a bra under her nightgown and her nipples show hard through the satin.

“Yes, that is what a manager does. I always think of the manager as the person who is in charge.” A beat. “But I don’t see Susie as being in charge of me.” The two of them make decisions together.

His eyes definitely go down, and he can't help but lick his lips at the sight. Jaskier hasn't had an orgasm in almost a week, and for him, that's a sin. "Like I said: very distracting."

He can't help glancing at her chest while the conversation continues, so he tries to keep himself busy by eating and drinking. "Yeah, that's the sense I got from what people I said, and why I wasn't precisely on board with the idea of getting one for myself." Another pause. "You're right, you don't let Susie be in charge of you. I'll talk to Yennefer and Geralt, see what they think. Nothing says we can't add our own spin to it, right?"

Fortunately, Midge doesn’t mind if he stares at her chest. She wants him, though she’ll have to be content with meeting at the apartment later in the week.

“Maybe you’re more of a spokesman,” she says. “Somebody who speaks for the group, but you’re not in charge.”

A gasp. "A spokesman is perfect. Oh, you brilliant, beautiful woman--" His hands reach forward, but he pulls them back at the last second. "Fuck. It's so hard not to kiss you right now. You're torturing me here, my witty lady."

She grins and closes her eyes for the kiss, but is sadly not rewarded. “You can kiss me,” Midge says, “unless you think you won’t be able to stop.”

Leaving him is going to be difficult today. It’s going to take everything in her to go and be responsible instead of dragging him off to the Goldsteins’ apartment. Jaskier needs to rest though. He’s still not 100% well.

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