Chapter Text
The Semi-Charmed Life of Julian Pankratz,
Assistant Manager at Suzy’s Adult Novelty Boutique
That One Time Jaskier Made Culinary History
Chapter Four: The Don’t Fuck Your Roommates Rule
by yolkipalki & Jadelyn
。。。oOo 。。。
Jaskier woke to the flickering streetlamp outside and cursed to himself. Dramatically, he flung his arm over his face to shield his eyes from the yellow light that streamed through the tapestry over the window.
The sun wasn’t even up yet but his fucky-wucky little brain had apparently deemed the minimal sleep sufficient.
Fuck, it was cold. He moaned, groggily burying his face in the warmth of the bed.
He was naked, which wasn’t concerning or even noteworthy, sleeping nude or sleep-stripping was pretty normal for him. But he hadn’t felt like he had slept at all. It felt more like he had collapsed, passed out, and awoken after being beaten to death. Maybe that was it, he felt like shit because he was dead. This was probably what it felt like to be a corpse — stiff and utterly deceased.
Then the faintest snore, almost a soft growl, resonated beside him and Jaskier’s eyes shot open.
Wh-whats — where — wait. Wait. No. Discards. Beer float. No. You didn't. No. The sex dice, the kitchen table. You did. The bedroom floor. The Wank Bank. The — oh no.
Oh...cock.
Jaskier found himself unable to breathe as he carefully untangled his limbs from where they were wrapped around his stupidly pretty, painfully naked roommate like some sort of baby koala clinging to a Greek god.
Well, here you are. You have reached the handle, hit the bottom. You insatiable, little slut.
Jaskier held his breath, shimmied off the end of the bed and to the door, never taking his eyes off Geralt.
Rather than thinking rationally, Jaskier found that in situations like this he tended to avoid thinking at all. So he didn’t.
He didn’t think as he scrambled out to the kitchen and pulled on the filthy clothes from the previous night, shoved his feet into his shoes without untying the laces, in his haste folding the back of his left shoe under his heel to poke uncomfortably into his foot. He didn’t stop to fix it, or to find his phone or keys or hoodie.
With the front door ajar, and discards cluttered across the kitchen and living room, Jaskier slipped into the dark.
In the pale light of the morning, Jaskier rode the TRAX in silence. He tried to lose himself in the buzzing fluorescent light as it flickered off-tempo with the bouncing of his leg. When he would try and match the beat it would change again.
In his blind panic, he had brought nothing with him, boarded the transit, and headed towards the heart of the city. So with no phone, no earbuds, no wallet or keys, food, jacket, and no fucking idea where in the hell he was going – he had little choice but to soak in shame and misery.
The train was empty save for a young woman with a single earbud in as she propped her feet up on the seat in front of her. Twitching, mumbling, filthy...she probably thought he was on something. She fixed him with an exhausted, unappreciative glare and taking a long sip from her paper coffee cup she rolled her eyes. He smiled sheepishly and pulled his knees up to his chest, tucking his arms around them.
Of all the stupid shit you’ve done, this is truly your magnum opus. Semi-Practical Jaskier prattled on. In case you’ve forgotten, Geralt doesn’t talk to you or look at you. The man acts as if the very sound of your voice should be banned by the Geneva Conventions, and you couldn’t resist fucking him. Do you think this is going to fix things? That he’s suddenly going to stop hating your guts because you stuck your prick in his pretty, tight ass?
Being the depraved, rabid little animal that you are, you had one rule you refused to break for this very fucking reason. And that fucking rule is no fucking your fucking roommates and here you are. Not an hour ago you were sleeping peacefully in his chiseled God-man arms like some Baroque sculpture.
It wasn't like that. Disaster Jaskier countered.
Really? Bullshit. Not even you believe that. You were naked and he was naked and you were both naked. And Geralt is going to wake up alone in your bed. What is he going to think? What is he going to do?
“Fuck.” He whined into his knees, hugging himself tightly as if his aching arms could hold him together. It was absolutely freezing and he had not brought a jacket with him. In fact, he wasn’t even sure that all of the clothes he was wearing were his.
Yeah, ‘fuck’ is right, buddy. Well, if you hadn't ruined everything before you certainly have now. Well done.
But it has nothing to do with that, does it? The voice in his head continued. He shied away from the thought, slouching as if he could hide from himself.
No.
“It means nothing to him, and nothing to me. And even if it did, which it doesn’t. I know it wouldn’t mean anything to him and that’s fine. It doesn’t have to. You’re…” He choked on the words. “You’re not obligated to marry someone just because you played a stupid, fucking dice game with them, shared a swamp-ass beer, and fucked each other stupid.”
The girl across from him stopped mid-sip, setting her coffee in her lap and holding it delicately with both hands. Mercifully she turned away as if she hadn’t heard him, as if to give him space to have a crisis on the train without prying eyes.
It’s not that you fucked him. It has nothing to do with that. Even if he hated you after, you could live with that.
Jaskier wrapped his hands around his head as if to silence himself. His heart was pounding in his arms and his stomach felt like it had slithered up to wriggle around in the back of his throat. Thank fuck he hadn’t eaten, as it was he felt like he was still going to be sick, his heart racing and his hands shaking.
No, you didn’t just fuck him, you made love to him. You have fallen in love with him.
It doesn’t matter if I have fallen in love with him, does it? Because someone like him could never love someone like me and I’m going to have to learn to live with that. He countered the voice, his lungs completely forgetting how to function.
Love him? You don’t even know him. He’s barely said enough words to you to fill a fucking fortune cookie. You fucking idiot.
Maybe I can just run away from this. If I never go back I never have to face that he doesn’t feel the same. Disaster Child Jaskier wasn’t convinced, Semi-Practical Jaskier certainly wasn’t going to buy it.
Right...and you’ll never have to look into those burning amber eyes as they stare right through you and face the fact that he doesn’t love you. More than that... he doesn’t even like you. Nothing has really changed and all you've done is cause yourself more suffering. Sure you’re in a different place, a different apartment, a different job...different name . But nothing has changed. You still aren’t enough.
Good god, you’re a mess.
The voice inside his head was nothing if not merciless and never missed an opportunity to kick him while he was down.
So, what? You run away from the one good thing you almost had and then what? You get there and...? You can’t stay away forever.
He laughed bitterly, blinking away the sting in his eyes. It was early, he was just tired. Just really fucking tired. Before he could convince himself of the rather obvious lie, a dark thought curled around the base of his skull and he choked.
How far can you run, Julian, before it catches you?
Feeling oddly hollow, he watched the sunrise paint the sleeping city in ashy hues and prayed the unsettling numbness would follow him — wherever the hell he was going.