#abb writes

1. 1240 Jaskier has traveled alone for most of his time on the Path. There was the string of contracts almost two decades back when he’d helped Letho and Auckes but that was before he’d left Nilfgard and the South behind almost entirely. After a week of traveling with Geralt, he’s starting to realize that he’s missed it. Traveling the Path with someone else is different than the traveling Jaskier does in caravans as a bard. Despite their unfamiliarity with traveling together, they fall into an unexpectedly easy routine when it comes to setting up camp. Geralt, a Wolf to the core, insists on doing the “hard work” of it all and Jaskier isn’t going to complain about leisurely picking berries and filling their waterskins. By the time Jaskier makes it back to camp with their waterskins full, Geralt is usually finishing setting up their fire after having set a few traps nearby. He lights it with Igni, of course, like any witcher worth his Signs would. It isn’t until their second week of traveling together that Jaskier beats Geralt back to their camp. The area they’re in, despite being filled with berries and freshwater, was suspiciously devoid of game. Jaskier had suspected magic at first but his medallion is too silent for the kind of magic that would require. If it’s a monster though, it’s leaving them suspiciously alone. He debates the likelihood of various possible monsters while he builds their small fire. He’s not nearly as skilled at the technical aspects of fire building as Geralt but a Sign can level a playing field and he has it started in no time. Geralt enters their small clearing only a moment later. “That was fast,” he grunts as he moves past Jaskier. Jaskier shrugged. “I’ve always been better than my brothers at it,” he explains, moving his hand in a general approximation of the Sign. He’d always preferred his magic lessons to swordplay at Gorthur Gvaed and he’s a bit jealous at the way he’s seen Geralt so easily use his Signs while he fights. The double shortsword style of Jaskier’s school did not lend well to Sign usage while fighting. Geralt gives the fire what Jaskier supposes is a thoughtful look and then grunts, moving away to set up a small tent. 2. 1244 It is not often that Jaskier finds himself caught up in the habits ingrained in him during his training. He’s decades removed from his trials and, for the most part, he has kicked the habits that Ivar and the other Viper Masters beat into him. His posture is a wreck. He doesn’t keep a journal in the way a witcher should. He takes his medallion off more often than most witchers would deem advisable. Perhaps most egregious to other members of his school is his chosen weapons. He still dual wields while fighting but these days he favors daggers to the traditional Viper shortswords. They’re much easier to hide. He keeps a stiletto in each boot and two in his lute case. One habit he cannot break is the way he cleans and sharpens his daggers after every use. He has two silver and two steel because he is a witcher, even if he’s a witcher who rarely takes contracts. They rarely need cleaning, especially when he travels with Geralt, but when they do, Jaskier is almost religious about it. His latest kill is a pack of drowners outside Murivel, as he’s lazily making his way through Redania and towards Ard Carraigh after completing his obligations at Oxenfurt. He finds no contract for them in town, which is frustrating after he ruined this season’s traveling clothes in the fight, but he gets some decent prices for some of the alchemy supplies he was able to harvest. When he makes it to an inn, it’s a bit before the midday meal, just enough time for him to clean himself and his daggers before he sings for his supper and his room. The innkeep is gracious enough to give him the room first, because he remembers Jaskier and knows he’ll be good for business. He lays his daggers out in a corner of the room and sits on the floor in front of them with a small bowl of water and a cloth. It isn’t long before he loses himself to the familiar motions. Clean the blade. Sharpen the blade. Polish the blade. Unwrap the leather. Oil the leather. Rewrap the leather. Repeat.  It doesn’t take very long, given how much smaller the blades are than his old shortswords but he takes longer than most men would bother with. A blade ill-treated is unlikely to treat you well in moments of need.

He goes downstairs to sing a bit for the midday meal. He’s debating the merit of playing through Geralt’s song cycle without Geralt himself present when the door swings open and the witcher himself enters. He nods at Jaskier when he sees him and then goes to speak to the innkeep. Jaskier finishes his song and wanders over to Geralt as he plucks at the strings of his lute, playing but not singing. 

“He’ll join me, my good man,” Jaskier declares after he hears the innkeep tell Geralt there’s no available rooms. The inkeep shrugs and shows Geralt to Jaskier’s room while Jaskier continues to play.

It’s another hour before he joins Geralt, who is making notes in his journal. Jaskier brings two bowls of broth and some bread with him and they share a pleasant meal after spending almost half a year apart. 

“You’ve bought more daggers,” Geralt says as they’re finishing, gesturing to where Jaskier had left his blades out after their rather thorough cleaning.

“Not new,” Jaskier clarifies, “just clean. They were a little too useful on the way here.”

Geralt snorts.

“And what is that supposed to mean?” Jaskier asks him, with no real heat. 

“What use would you have for a dagger, other than the one you carry on your belt sometimes?”

Jaskier rolls his eyes and gathers the bowls, immune to Geralt’s teasing for the most part. It is just like the other man, to consider the fighting style of another school inferior to his own. “Not all of us are trying to compensate for something with our gigantic swords.”

3. 1247

Jaskier manages to get his pants tied and his doublet buttoned as he runs back to the inn he and Geralt are staying at. He finds Geralt whetting his silver sword by the fire.

“Hello, Geralt,” he says, as casually as he can manage. “If you wouldn’t mind departing just a bit early, I think now’s a wonderful time to leave.”

Geralt grunts. “The room is paid until tomorrow.”

“Yes,” Jaskier says, moving quickly towards the table he’s been using as a desk to pack the papers he’s spread across it. “I’m afraid I’ll have to lose out on that coin. C’mon. Chop, chop. Pack your things.” Jaskier moves onto his small pack of clothes in the corner.

“Don’t forget your weird necklace,” Geralt grunts, shoving Jaskier’s Viper medallion into his hand and Jaskier remembers taking it off before going looking for a lay for tonight, trusting Geralt with it before trusting a random lay wouldn’t steal it.

Jaskier pauses for a second, offended. The Viper medallions aren’t the same heavy stamped discs the rest of the schools use- they were forged individually into various twisting shapes before they’d been enchanted. Jaskier finds them more attractive than the other schools’ medallions and more practical, easier to hide. “Excuse me, as if yours is better.” 

“Let’s go, Jaskier.”

Jaskier shuts his mouth and returns to packing for a moment before he’s forced to retaliate. “Fine but don’t think we’re not discussing your terrible taste in jewelry later.”

4. 1251

Geralt’s White Honey is absolute shit and Jaskier knows firsthand because he’s borrowed it before. He’d replaced it after, of course, and he could tell when Geralt used the one Jaskier had brewed because it flushed the toxins much faster than Geralt’s usual swill.

Ivar would be very disappointed if he knew how long it takes Jaskier to figure out why Geralt’s White Honey is so poor in comparison to his own. As it turns out, Geralt is preparing both the honeysuckle and the white myrtle petals incorrectly. He’s managed to flip their preparations, crushing the myrtle petals and chopping the honeysuckle, when it should be the other way around. Jaskier thinks maybe it’s a Wolf thing but he’s not sure it matters because watching Geralt butcher his potions every time is getting old. 

Jaskier doesn’t bother to keep his potions stocked beyond a few that are easy to keep in his packs but he helps Geralt when the other allows him to. Mostly he prepares ingredients as Geralt directs but given how sick he is of watching the other witcher butcher his potions, when Geralt asks him to crush some white myrtle petals he takes the knife from Geralt’s hand and chops them instead. “Just give me that,” he says, reaching for the honeysuckle Geralt had been about to chop. “You always do this wrong. You’re supposed to cut the white myrtle and crush the honeysuckle.”

It doesn’t take very long for Jaskier to finish preparing the potion, though he stops short of the final mix lest Geralt actually murder him. He wipes his hands and picks up his lute, idly strumming.

“Where did you learn that?” Geralt asks as he takes the ingredients Jaskier has prepared to finish mixing them. 

Jaskier rolls his eyes because White Honey, for all it’s helpful properties, is a recipe shared almost exclusively among witchers. “Oxenfurt, Geralt,” he answers with a hefty amount of sarcasm in his voice. 

“Hmmmm.”

And doesn’t that pique Jaskier’s interest. That’s Geralt’s genuinely confused hum, not his ‘Jaskier, shut up, you’re not that funny’ hum.

 “Where else would I have learned it?” he prods. “I am a Master of the seven liberal arts, as you know.”

“Didn’t know they taught White Honey at Oxenfurt,” is all Geralt says as Jaskier strums lazily at his lute. Geralt is being serious, Jaskier realizes- he believes he learned how to make White Honey at Oxenfurt.

White Honey is not taught at Oxenfurt. White Honey, per rather extensive experimentation by the Viper School, is mostly useless to anyone without a witcher’s mutations. While Jaskier is sure someone out there has the recipe who is not a witcher, it is certainly not taught at Oxenfurt. Jaskier is sure Geralt knows this but the other witcher is taking Jaskier’s joke seriously.

Oh.

Oh.

Geralt, somehow, just over ten years into their friendship, does not know Jaskier is a witcher. It takes effort to keep himself from crowing with laughter. This is just- Jaskier would be hurt if he didn’t find it so funny. 

Oh, this is incredible. Jaskier is going to milk this for all of its worth.

5. 1251

Jaskier continues to insinuate in every possible way that he can think that he is a witcher without actually saying it. Geralt does not catch on. It is simultaneously amusing and frustrating though it gives Jaskier a lot of perspective on certain aspects of their relationship.

Geralt is always surprised when Jaskier lights a fire quickly because he hasn’t considered that Jaskier is using Igni. Geralt insists that Jaskier’s hidden daggers are for show because he doesn’t quite believe that Jaskier knows how to use them. Geralt dismisses Jaskier’s Viper medallion as an odd piece of jewelry because he doesn’t remember that not all the schools use the same stamped metal the Wolves do for their medallions.

Jaskier’s current favorite game is trying to find the subject of his knowledge that will eventually push Geralt over the edge because he can’t accept that Jaskier learned it at Oxenfurt. He hasn’t found it yet.

He’s trying the Wild Hunt today because there hasn’t been a reliable sighting in nearly thirty years and he knows very few humans who actually study the subject. All witchers know about it, of course, but the Vipers are most familiar. They were founded to study it, after all, and Jaskier’s knowledge on the subject is both broad and deep.

“They’re elves, you know. Not the typical kind, mind you, but they speak an off dialect of Elder. Some of my teachers think they’re from some other world. There’s unicorns there, apparently,” he says as they walk beside Roach. It’s a not-quite-bastardization of the various facts and theories but Jaskier’s not aiming for the truth, he’s aiming to confuse Geralt.

Geralt just grunts. It’s not quite as satisfying a response as Jaskier had hoped but he thinks maybe Geralt is confused.

“I think the unicorns are a little far-fetched, personally,” he continues. “It’s a nice thought, though.”

“The Wild Hunt is not a nice thought,” Geralt says seriously. Which, well, is true. 

“I’m well aware, Geralt. I’ve read an entire library on the subject. The Continent’s biggest, in fact.”

“The biggest library on the Wild Hunt was at Gorthur Gvaed. It’s been destroyed.”

“Yes. Well.”

The painful reminder stops Jaskier short. He normally doesn’t have much trouble separating his memories of Gorthur Gvaed from its destruction. He wasn’t there and if he doesn’t think about the raid he missed, it’s easy to pretend it never happened; that the keep, with its hidden passageways and winding rivers, is still standing in the mountains of Nilfgard; that his teachers are still there tending to the library; that his brothers are still out there and they’re narrowly missing each other as they travel their own winding Paths. The mention of its destruction brings his idealized fantasy crashing down. Gorthur Gvaed is nothing but ruins and he has maybe five brothers left. 

Guilt wells up in the pit of his stomach and he decides the Wild Hunt is not the topic that’s going to make Geralt realize he’s a witcher.

+1. 1251

Geralt feels hazy and slow as he wakes. There’s the dull ache of a pain in his leg and his blood burns. His vision comes slowly and when it does he takes stock.

He’s trapped under a pile of rocks. The tunnel. The kikimores. The cave-in. The pain in his legs and his ribs is dull, due to his potions, but he thinks his leg might be broken and his ribs at least bruised. He has a concussion but he doesn’t think he was out for very long. There are potions burning through his system, one for the dark, at least, but with his head pounding, he’s not sure what else.

He’s in a fairly large section of the tunnel system, with a small stream running through. There are four entrances to the cavern. He was caught as the fifth tunnel gave way and caved in.

He can see where his sword had landed and he might have enough time to clear enough of the rock to reach for it. He doesn’t like his chances of getting out of the cave on his own but there should only be one injured kikimore left and if it comes to him, he might be able to take it out. Jaskier will come looking for him once he’s been gone long enough and as long as the kikimore is dead before Jaskier enters the tunnels, the foolish bard should be safe.

Geralt closes his eyes, trying to listen for the kikimore, trying to gauge where it is and how much time he has. Not much, he realizes, after a moment of listening to the echoes of it’s skittering legs, but he can do it if he works fast.

His legs are still mostly pinned under the cave-in when the kikimore enters the cavern from one of the tunnels opposite Geralt. 

Fuck.

He’s free enough to reach for the sword, stretching his body as far as it will go and exacerbating the pain in his leg, still pinned, as he does. His movement attracts the attention of the kikimore. It’s beady eyes turn toward Geralt. It’s a smaller specimen, a worker probably, but pinned as he is, Geralt knows it has the upperhand. He braces himself, trying to find the position that will give him the most power. If he can time this right, he might be able to behead the kikimore before it pierces his chest.

Suddenly, there’s another body in the cavern, a blur of blue putting itself between Geralt and the kikimore, a dagger in either hand. The kikimore stops, eyes focusing on the new arrival.

“Jaskier, get the fuck out of here.”

“Can’t do that, my dear.” Jaskier lunges at the kikimore, leading with his blades. 

Geralt stops breathing. His only goal after the cave-in- to kill the kikimore before Jaskier came looking for him- is now impossible. He hasn’t been fast enough for the bard’s impatience and now the fool is going to die trying to fight a monster some young witchers struggle with.

Jaskier lands the first blow, a lucky hit against one of the kikimores legs. It’s not deep but it’s enough to put the kikimore off balance. It strikes at Jaskier who dodges and pulls away. He puts some space between himself and the kikimore and pulls a small vial from his pocket. It’s one from Geralt’s own stores, though he can’t tell which. It doesn’t matter. It would kill any human. It will kill Jaskier.

“Don’t!”

Almost faster than Geralt can see, Jaskier throws his dagger into the kikimore’s eye with deadly accuracy, stunning it for a moment. In almost the same moment, he downs the potion and pulls another dagger from his boot in one fluid motion. He dives back in to slash at the kikimore’s throat, digging into it with both of his daggers. The kikimore chokes on its own blood, a sick wet, gurgling sound, and then suddenly it is on top of Jaskier, stabbing down and obscuring the bard’s body from Geralt. Geralt can barely see any of it but the sick sound of flesh being pierced overwhelms his ears. Instead of trying to watch, he returns to freeing himself from the cave-in.

It isn’t long before the sound has stopped and the kikimore is moving toward Geralt again. He can sit up fully now but twisting away from his legs to look at the scene behind him pulls at his ribs. Jaskier’s body is motionless on the ground and Geralt is furious. The idiot bard.

He manages to free the rest of his legs as the kikimore approaches. It takes massive effort to kneel up, ready to strike, but he manages. He still does not expect to make it out of the cave system but the least he can do is bring the kikimore down with him in honor of his friend.

Just as Geralt is preparing to swing at the approaching kikimore, it sinks to the ground. Standing over its lifeless body, is Jaskier, once again holding his daggers. His eyes are completely black and the veins surrounding them are dark beneath his pale skin. The toxicity of the potion hasn’t killed him. It’s swirling through his system. Geralt knows his face looks much the same.

“Fuck.”

-

“Eleven years, Geralt,” Jaskier crows as he helps Geralt back to the clearing where Roach is waiting for them. “How does it feel to have traveled with another witcher for eleven years and never once known? While holding his medallion in your hand and drinking the potions he’s prepared for you? Hmmm, Geralt? How does it feel?”

“Jaskier.”

“Yes?”

Two days before Christmas, Dex is at the train station picking up Nursey who’s coming from New York. Nursey had decided to go home for a few days after he had finished his exams to say hi to his parents before they left for their cruise. But now he is actually coming to Maine, to Dex’s home. He must admit he’s pretty nervous. They have been sharing a room for a while now, but he thinks that sharing a room in his parent’s house will be different. And Nursey is meeting his family for the first time. That’s kind of nerve-wracking as well. Dex has met Nursey’s parents once, and he knows their families are very different. Thankfully Dex’s parents had been fine with Dex inviting Nursey to stay with them during Christmas.

The train arrives then, and Dex waves at Nursey when he sees him getting off the train. Nursey walks over to him with a big grin on his face.

“Hey, man, good to see you,” he says and leans in for a hug.

“You too. How was your ride?” Dex untangles himself from Nursey and starts walking to where he parked his truck. They chat about random things on the drive back to Dex’s house. Once they are there, Dex grabs Nursey’s bag from the car.

“You know I can carry that myself, right?” Nursey asks as he follows Dex up the driveway.

Dex just rolls his eyes. When they approach the front door, it swings open and Dex’s mom stands in the doorway.

“Mom, this is Derek Nurse.”

Nursey walks up to his mom and sticks out his hand.

“Nice to meet you, Mrs. Poindexter,” he says and smiles charmingly.

Dex’s mom smiles back at him and takes his hand.

“Call me Martha, darling,” she says. “Come on in, dinner is almost ready.”

They enter the house and walk up to Dex’s room. Dex throws Nursey’s bag on the inflatable mattress he put up for Nursey earlier that day. Nursey gingerly takes a seat on the mattress, while Dex flops down on the bed.

“Thanks for inviting me for Christmas, man. It’s much better than spending it alone at home.”

Nursey smiles at him, looking almost shy. Dex’s heart seizes at that. Fuck, he’s not going to survive the next few days, is he. He thought he could keep his crush in check, but the fact that Nursey actually is in his house and is going to be here for a few more days, makes him realize what a stupid thought that was. Especially when Nursey smiles at him like that.

“No worries, man. Christmas is supposed to be spent with people you care about.” He’s too afraid to look at Nursey when he says it, so instead he gets to his feet. “Dinner is probably ready, let’s go downstairs.” He leads the way out of the room without checking if Nursey is following him.

Martha looks up from the casserole at the stove when they enter the kitchen. “Perfect timing, boys, dinner is just about ready. Just take a seat at the table.”

Dex’s dad, Colin, and his younger brother, Jeremy, are already sitting there, and Nursey goes to shake both their hands before he sits down.

“You boys ready to decorate the tree later?” Dex’s dad asks them when they are both seated.

Nursey looks over at Dex with raised eyebrows. Apparently that’s also something they don’t do in the Nurse household.

“Of course we are, right Derek?”

Nursey nods and gives Dex’s dad a bright smile. For the rest of the dinner, Dex’s family keeps asking Nursey about school and hockey, and Dex can see him relax more and more. It makes Dex really happy to see Nursey and his family getting along so well. Nursey fits right in, like he belongs there.

After dinner Nursey pulls Dex aside.

“So you really decorate the tree together?”

“Uh, yeah, it’s a Poindexter tradition. We do it every Christmas.”

Nursey has a contemplating look on his face. Dex’s heart clenches when he thinks of everything Nursey has missed out on. Christmas is the best holiday, okay? He can’t believe there are someone out there that hasn’t experienced the magic of Christmas.

“Did you… Did you ever have a tree at your place?” he asks Nursey. Nursey shakes his head.

“Well, come on, time to introduce you to one of the joys of Christmas.” Dex winks at him and drags him into the living room. There is already a big tree in the middle of the room, which the Poindexter family had picked out earlier in the day. The look on Nursey’s face when he sees it is hilarious. He looks at Dex with raised eyebrows.

“Go big or go home is pretty much the family motto. At least during Christmas.” The tree really is big. It almost reaches the ceiling in the living room. Dex grins at Nursey and walks over to the boxes with the ornaments. After rooting around in one of the boxes, he pulls out a string of Christmas lights. He waves Nursey over to the tree and holds out the lights.

“Your first task. Put the lights on the tree.” The look of horror on Nursey’s face is really funny, and Dex can barely hold back his laughter. But he decides to take mercy on him. He asks Nursey to hold one end of the string and starts putting up the lights. Jeremy also comes over to help them, and soon they have the lights wrapped around the tree. Then they start putting up the rest of the ornaments, and Nursey lights up when he sees some of the old ornaments that Dex and Jeremy made when they were younger.

“That was fun, right?” Dex asks him when they have finished decorating the tree. Nursey nods.

“Yeah, it was actually really fun. I never thought decorating a tree could be fun.” Nursey looks wistful as he says it, and Dex really wants to hug him. Fuck, he needs to control his crush. Instead he pats Nursey on the shoulder and asks, “ You wanna watch a movie?”

Later when they are back in Dex’s room, ready for bed, Nursey whispers: “Thank you.”

It’s barely audible in the darkness, and Nursey doesn’t say anything else, but Dex gets it. He wishes he could wrap his arms around him and just hold him.

 The next morning they sleep in, and when they wake up, big white flakes are falling from the sky.

“Do you wanna go for a walk?” Dex asks Nursey when they are sitting in the kitchen eating breakfast. “I’ll show you around the area.”

“Sure,” Nursey says.

After breakfast they get dressed and head out into the snow. It’s still snowing when they leave the house, but after a little while it lets up.

“So what is the most exciting thing you’ve ever done for Christmas?” Dex asks Nursey as they enter a small park. There is a moment of silence while Nursey thinks about it.

“Oh, this one time we went to Hawaii and the hotel there was going all out for Christmas. Like lots of decorations and stuff. And then my uncle and his family also came there a couple of days after us, and they actually do the whole Christmas thing. So my parents decided to join them that year and we actually celebrated Christmas like a normal family.” There is a note of wistfulness in Nursey’s voice, but when Dex looks over at him, he doesn’t seem sad at least. More like he’s deep in thought, thinking of something that really made him happy once.

“Hey, have you ever made a snowman?” Dex asks and points to a big pile of snow. Nursey huffs.

“Of course. I have seen snow before, you know.”

Dex grins at him and Nursey smiles back. They walk over to the pile of snow and starts working on the snowman. About halfway through, just when they have put the middle part of the snowman on the bottom part, Dex suddenly feels something wet and cold hit the back of his head. He turns around and sees Nursey standing there trying to look innocent. It’s the worst innocent face Dex has ever seen, and Nursey soon bursts into laughter.

“Oh, it’s so on!” Dex ducks behind the snowman and gathers some snow in his hands. When he has rolled it into a snowball, he peeks around the snowman. Nursey is still standing there, now with another snowball in his hand. Dex aims and hits Nursey in the stomach. Nursey yelps and starts running towards him. Dex ducks down again to grab some more snow and stands up just as Nursey throws another snowball at him. It hits him in the arm and he quickly turns and start running away from Nursey. He can hear Nursey following him, and he looks over his shoulder. Nursey is gaining on him quickly, so Dex turns around to throw a snowball at him. But Nursey is too close, and when he tries to stop he slips on the snow and crashes into Dex. They both tumble down and Dex lands on his back with a thump. Inches from his face he can see the concern in Nursey’s eyes.

“Are you ok? Did you hurt your back?” Nursey asks and starts looking Dex over. When Dex doesn’t answer, their eyes meet again. Dex can feel every point where their bodies touch, and Nursey looks gorgeous with his tussled hair with bits of snow in it. Dex puts a hand around Nursey’s neck and pulls his head down. Nursey’s eyes widen in surprise before their lips meet. For a brief second Dex wonders if he has made a mistake, but then Nursey starts kissing him back and he eagerly melts into the kiss. After a couple of minutes, he can feel the snow melting and making his clothes wet, and he breaks the kiss.

“My clothes are getting wet,” he says and pushes on Nursey’s shoulders. Nursey smirks at him and Dex rolls his eyes.

“Not that kind of wet,” he says and punches Nursey playfully in the shoulder. Nursey laughs before he slowly gets up and holds his hand out for Dex. Dex takes it and gets to his feet. When he is on his feet, Nursey doesn’t let go of his hand. Dex smiles at him.

“I’ve wanted to do that for a while,” Nursey says as they start walking back to Dex’s house.

“Me too.”

They hold hands all the way back.

 When they get back to the house, they are both wet and cold from the snow, so they take turns in the shower. Afterwards they try to watch a movie on Netflix in Dex’s bed, but they keep getting distracted by make out sessions. Dex finds he doesn’t mind. A few hours later, Dex’s mom calls them down to dinner. They walk downstairs side by side, but come to an abrupt halt in the doorway to the kitchen when Jeremy suddenly appears in front of them. He doesn’t say anything, just points to something above their heads. They both look up at the same time and Dex groans when he sees what it is.

“You know the rule right? You have to kiss now,” Jeremy says with a wink. The little bastard. Dex looks over at Nursey, who just grins and shrugs in a What can you do? way. He looks practically giddy.

“It’s true. It’s the rules of the mistletoe. We can disobey the rules, Dexy.”

“Don’t call me Dexy,” Dex says. Then he leans over and gives Nursey a quick peck on the lips. Jeremy lets out a whoop and Dex flushes. “Come on, let’s go eat.”

Dex’s parents hadn’t said anything during the whole mistletoe ordeal, but when he looks over at them when they are all seated at the table, they both give him a small smile. Relief washes though his body and he smiles down at his food.

 The next morning, Dex wakes up with arms and legs wrapped around him. Nursey had decided last night that he didn’t want to sleep on the air mattress, so they had both squeezed into Dex’s bed. He had slept surprisingly well. He lies still for a few minutes listening to the quiet of the house and Nursey’s breathing behind him. After a little while he feels Nursey starting to stir behind him. Then he feels Nursey’s lips press against the back of his neck.

“Good morning.”

“Good morning, baby,” Nursey says before he presses another kiss to Dex’s neck. Dex turns around in his arms. Nursey’s hair is disheveled and his eyes are half-lidded. Dex thinks he looks beautiful and he leans forward to kiss him. They kiss languidly for a few moments, until they hear voices from the hallway outside the room. The rest of the family has apparently woken up. Dex and Nursey break apart and clamber out of the bed. They take turns in the bathroom before getting dressed and heading downstairs. The others are sitting in the living room, a cup of coffee in their hands. Dex heads to the kitchen to grab a cup for himself and Nursey as well. When he returns to the living room, Nursey has found a spot on the floor to sit. Dex hands him the coffee and sits down next to him. There is a moment of silence while they finish their coffees, and then Jeremy jumps to his feet and starts handing out the presents that are under the tree. When all the presents has been handed out, Dex looks over at Nursey. He looks at the three presents in front of him with a shocked expression.

“I, uh, I mean my family wanted to get you a little something since you were staying with us for Christmas.” Dex rubs the back of his neck. “And me too, of course.”

Nursey looks up at him, still looking pretty surprised. “Oh, wow, thank you. I didn’t really expect to get anything.” Nursey jumps to his feet. “I got you something too, let me go get it.” He runs up the stairs. A minute later he’s back, holding a wrapped present in his hand.

“Here you go.” Nursey hands Dex the present and sits down again. They start opening their presents. Dex’s parents has given Nursey a pair of woolen socks and mittens, and Jeremy got him a book about hockey. Nursey gasps when he opens Dex’s present. It’s a leather-bound notebook engraved with Nursey’s initials.

“This is beautiful. Thank you.” Nursey smiles at him and Dex blushes. He grabs Nursey’s present and opens it quickly. It’s a dark green sweater in the softest material Dex has ever felt.

“Thank you, I love it.” Nursey looks happy and pleased, like he wasn’t sure what Dex would think. Dex leans over and kisses him.

“Merry Christmas.”

Geralt raised an eyebrow. This could only lead to trouble. “Free cake?”

Jaskier nodded, deadly serious, as he pulled out his phone and handed it to Geralt. Face ID unlocked the phone to show Geralt an Instagram post. The pale green square announced a special promotion- free wedding cake tastings for engaged couples every Thursday for the month of October.

“You’re not engaged.”

“An astute observation. That-” Jaskier waved his hand in Geralt’s general direction. “-is why I need you.”

Geralt had been right. This was going to end in disaster. “We’re not engaged.”

“But we could be.” 

Geralt stared.

Jaskier coughed. “Right, well, not really, obviously.” He dug through his pockets and pulled out two simple silver rings. “But I found these in the prop closet in the theater building and I figure they pass well enough for engagement rings. Certainly well enough for us to get ourselves free cake.”

“You have a meeting with your advisor tomorrow.”

“But I can get free cake now, if you’d just help me.”

“You told me to lock you in your room to write.”

“You’re an evil man.” Jaskier paused and finally righted himself. “Please, Geralt. This week was really hard and long and undergrads suck and now I just want to get cake with my best friend for the measly little price of pretending we are engaged but, alas, he is an evil, evil man who wants to lock me away in a tower.”

Geralt snorted. “Sounds hard.”

Geralt swore he saw Jaskier actively make the decision to pull out his puppy dog eyes. “Please. You’ll get cake too. And it’s your cheat day.”

It would go badly, Geralt was sure, but it wasn’t like he had plans for the rest of the afternoon and, really, the worst that could happen was they were discovered and banned from a bakery they never went to. “Which ring is mine?”

Jaskier beamed like the sun. “This one,” he said, handing Geralt the slightly bigger ring and sliding the other onto his own hand.

Geralt rolled his eyes and stood, pulling at Jaskier’s arm. “Come on. We need to go now if we're having dinner with Triss and Yenn.”

“We’re having dinner with Triss and Yenn?”

“Indian.”

“Oh. Great.”

-

Davey rolled his eyes. “You’ll survive. Spot must really want to impress his professor if he’s risking making you wear a tie.”

“I resent that but it’s not untrue. And he does. She takes an intern every summer from her first year classes and he thinks it’s a really good sign that she invited him to this dinner. But she also invited that asshole classmate that Spot’s always complaining about. He’s bringing his girlfriend.” Race wrinkled his nose. 

“Oh, I see. That’s why your wearing the tie,” Davey said with the know it all tone that Race knew meant he was teasing.

“What?”

“You’re trying to out trophy wife the girlfriend.”

“Shut up and go take your physics test,” Race said, pushing Davey’s arm and then walking away from him. His phone chirped with a text from Davey not 30 seconds later. 

I’m adding 3 points to your pettiness score. You’re in the lead now.

-

His Dance Comp midterm went well, even if it ran over. He blamed Albert for drawing the last performance slot because he could have left early otherwise. His whole body ached, protesting the Pilates class from hell that he’d had before lunch and the three hours of rehearsal he’d had after. Going home and vegging out on the couch sounded infinitely better than going to Spot’s dinner. The food would be good, sure, and Spot’s professor was paying but he’d learned early on in Spot’s law school career that when people at law events found out he wasn’t also in law school, they tended to lose interest pretty quickly. He was usually relegated to the role of trophy boyfriend- which he could do and do well but it was kind of hard when he was this exhausted and coming right from a day of midterms. 

He tied his tie while he waited for his Uber and attempted to fix his hair using Snapchat as a mirror. Spot had mentioned that his asshole classmate’s girlfriend was apparently model pretty and Davey was right; Race was nothing if not petty. He was definitely going to be the better trophy wife tonight, even if he was exhausted and coming from four hours of dancing.

As soon as Race was in his Uber and had an ETA he trusted, he texted Spot.

mdtrm ran ovr b there 5 min l8 blame al

Okay

ur gonna wow her n then well get wine drunk w javid 2nite 2 celbr8

After texting Jack and Davey to make sure they could get wine drunk when Race and Spot got home, Race was happy to find his AirPods shoved into his wallet and he put them in so he could start reviewing the choreography for his upcoming Repertory midterm in his head. He got another text from Spot when he was about five minutes from the restaurant.

They're seating us now. Just ask for Taylor Caine.

k eta 4 min ur gonna kill it luv u

Race went right to the hostess when he entered the restaurant. She probably had a fancier title than hostess at a place like this but Race definitely didn't know the word, even if it was probably Italian. "Hi, I think my party's already been seated. I'm with Taylor Caine?"

The hostess gave him a once over, eyes catching on his poorly tied tie. "Of course, follow me, sir." She led Race through the main dining area and to another, smaller area where Race immediately picked out Spot and his group. He waved, hoping to catch Spot's eye and sure enough Spot saw him, his face brightening in a way that most people didn't recognize.

"Speak of the devil," he said, grinning as Race took the empty seat between Spot and who he assumed was asshole classmate's girlfriend. "This is my boyfriend, Antonio Higgins."

"Call me Tony, please," Race said, as if he ever used that name. "I'm so sorry I'm late, my dance midterm ran over."

The woman on the other side of Spot set her menu down and pushed her reading glasses on top of her head, offering her hand to Race, who took it. "No worries at all, we've only just ordered our drinks. I'm Taylor Caine."

"Oh the famous Professor Caine," Race crowed. "It's so great to meet you after all of Sean's stories."

"Only good ones I hope?"

"The best," Race agreed, grinning at Spot, who was getting the look he did when he was almost about to blush. Race decided to back off a little instead of laying it on so thick. "He loves your classes."

"Oh don't flatter her," the woman next to her said. The way she put her hand on Taylor's shoulder spoke of  years of easy familiarity and it made Race smile to think of having that with someone- with Spot- one day. "I'll never hear the end of it. I'm Dalia."

Race shook her hand and then turned to the man at her side- presumably Spot's classmate. Race offered his hand. The man took it, but not before staring at it disdainfully. He eventually deigned to introduce himself to Race, but not before Race reintroduced himself first. “Antonio Higgins.”

 "Joseph Huntington III. This is my fiancée, Kelly Smaltzer."

"Great to meet you." Race was sitting next to Kelly so he turned to her as well and offered his hand, which she shook. "That dress is absolutely beautiful. Vera Wang?"

Kelly's face lit up. She was very pretty and Race felt a little bitter. "Thank you, yes. How did you know?"

While the others discussed whatever it was lawyers discussed, Race told her about Jack’s internship at the fashion magazine and how they would obsess over spreads together for hours and they fell into an easy conversation about fashion magazines. Kelly, it turned out, was writing for the website of a competing fashion magazine but she quietly admitted to Race that she was hoping to break away from fluff pieces soon and then move to a magazine more like the one Jack worked at- one that was focused on fashion but strived for inclusivity and female empowerment. She had some interesting ideas and Race was slowly starting to like her. She and Jack would be a force to be reckoned with if put in the same room together. If they were relegated to conversation as trophy wives for the night, he didn’t think he would mind it.

Eventually the waiter appeared with drinks. Spot leaned into Race's space to tell him, "I ordered you a seltzer, babe."

Race kissed Spot on the cheek, taking his glass from the waiter. "Perfect, thanks." 

As the waiter took their orders, Race suddenly realized he hadn’t looked over the menu at all- a dangerous choice, since he could be pretty picky with his Italian food. He began reading over but he only got through two appetizers before Spot interrupted him, quietly pointing out two of the menu items. “There’s lasagna you’ll like and a pasta primavera, if you want something lighter.”

“You know me too well,” he said with a wink and Spot rolled his eyes. He thought he heard Joseph scoff but he ignored it.

Once they'd settled back into conversation after ordering, Race found himself the center of attention. "So, Tony," Taylor said as she put away her reading glasses. "Sean tells me you're also at Columbia?"

Race nodded. "I am. I'm still an undergrad though- only a junior. Sean's too smart for me; he graduated high school and undergrad early."

"Don't sell yourself short. You’re-" Spot started but was interrupted by Joseph.

"You're a dance major then?"

"Yes," Race said, taking a sip of his seltzer, "a dance major and-"

“And what do you plan to do with that?”

“Well, I’m not quite sure yet but I also-”

"At Yale, dance is folded into the Theater Studies major. It’s not a very popular major. Most students at Yale choose a more… useful path for undergrad. I majored in political science. Joseph continued, a not so subtle attempt at shifting the focus of conversation to himself..

"Oh, how interesting," Dalia said, sounding perfectly interested though Race didn’t miss the little annoyed look that crossed her face.

Joseph launched into what was probably meant to sound like a description of undergraduate life in New Haven but was actually just a thinly veiled list of his accomplishments. Race nodded politely at all the right points in Joseph’s resume but caught Spot tensing his body out of the corner of his eye. Hoping to head off Spot’s seething, Race grabbed his hand under the table and squeezed it once, shaking his head a little. He waited for Spot to nod back to him before turning to Kelly. God, Spot could be such a drama queen. And, coming from Race, who was now leading on the pettiness scoreboard in their apartment, that was saying a lot.

Race turned back to Kelly, hoping to hear more of her ideas for future articles. She seemed excited just to have the chance to talk about them and after listening to both Katherine and Sarah rant for hours on end, Race felt like he knew how to actually engage in the conversation as an ally without being a total jerk.

By the time their food came, it was clear to Race that Spot’s assessment of Joseph as a Grade A Asshole was correct. He attempted to make every conversation about him and his opinions. He kept making digs at Spot’s less than ideal childhood and cutting off his own fiancée to speak for her. He was sitting next to Dalia but spent the whole time clearly trying to impress Taylor. In his effort to engage with Taylor, he ended up essentially ignoring Dalia, Kelly, and Race, and only engaging with Spot because he had to. No one seemed overly impressed with his accomplishments or his attitude which helped restore Race’s faith in humanity a little but it did not make for a fun dinner table.

Race could tell Spot was getting closer and closer to going off. His jaw was tight and he kept clenching and unclenching his fists under the table. It was one of the things Race loved most about Spot- his righteous outrage in the face of someone treating others like shit- but now was not the time for an outburst. He kept one hand just above Spot’s knee, even while talking to Kelly, slowly rubbing circles right above his knee cap.

Taylor and Dalia were wonderful, trying to keep everyone involved in the conversation. It was when they asked Kelly about herself that Race really started to get annoyed with Joseph. He kept talking over her, even when she was asked a direct question, ascribing opinions to her that Race could tell from her face she didn’t really hold. He told their engagement story with a focus on how amazing his plan had been while barely mentioning Kelly. When he excused himself to use the bathroom shortly after that, Race made it a point to ask Kelly again about the articles she wanted to write for her magazine. Taylor and Dalia both listened intently to her ideas of what fashion magazines could- and should- be.

“Sorry,” she said after a few minutes, putting her hands back in her lap and blushing a little. “I just get really excited about this kind of stuff.”

“No, no,” Taylor said. “Don’t apologize, you have a lot of really intelligent ideas and you’re very good at expressing them.”

Kelly beamed. “Thank you. I don’t have much chance to talk about them, even at work.”

Dalia hummed thoughtfully and nodded. “I remember seeing some profiles on your magazine recently. I thought they mentioned how progressive it was.”

“In some ways, it is,” Kelly said thoughtfully. “But in a lot of ways it’s white feminism and it’s lip service. There are a few articles on intersectionality in relation to feminism that I was sure I would get to write if I pitched them but I’ve been shut down again and again. They only want the type of feminism that’s palatable to their investors and they refuse to push for anything more. And we need to push for more. Intersectionality is the most important part of feminism and if I can somehow provide visibility to trans women or women of color-”

“This again, honey?” Joseph said, grinning as he sat down. “Sorry about that. She gets overexcited sometimes.”

Kelly looked visibly upset but also a little like she was used to it. “I’m not overexcited, Joey. This is important.”

“I don’t know why you care so much. It doesn’t affect you.”

“It does and even if it didn’t, then it’s even more important for me to care.”

Race could see a real argument brewing and, while he wouldn’t mind Joseph making himself out to be even more of an asshole, Kelly didn’t deserve to be put down in the middle of a restaurant, by her fiancee, when she was right. Without even thinking about it, Race took a sip of his almost finished seltzer and then set down his glass towards the edge of the table, tipping it into his own lap. “Oh my god, I’m such a klutz.” He stood, giving Spot a significant look and hoping his boyfriend picked up his cue to change the subject. “Excuse me, I’ll just go clean myself up.”

Race pulled a waitress aside as he headed to the bathroom, telling her about the spill. He cleaned himself up quickly. Thankfully, the air dryer helped with his wet pants. By the time he returned to the table, everyone seemed calm, though Kelly was decidedly not looking at Joseph. Dalia was speaking when Race sat down again. “I can’t say much obviously but it’s very exciting to represent them, even just in the patent filings. I mean, I have a degree in physics so it’s fun to go back to my roots with all the intermediary work before their next spacecraft is ready. Oh, Tony, is everything all right?”

“All set,” he said, taking his seat. “Just a little seltzer. Sorry, did you say you were working on patents for a spacecraft? Is it the Kord Industries one?”

Dalia’s eyes brightened. “Yes, actually, do you know it?”

“I do,” Race said at the same time that Joseph snorted. Race ignored it but could feel Spot seething next to him and reflexively reached a hand down to grab his knee. Spot was not going to blow his shot at this internship over whatever he thought was Race’s honor; not if Race could help it.

“And how do you feel about them? Most people who know enough to recognize them from such a brief description have strong opinions.”

“Oh, he does,” Spot said, a lot calmer than Race would expect.

Race laughed. “I guess that’s fair. I-“

“What would a dance major know about spacecraft?” Joseph had said it quietly to Kelly, who did not look pleased with him. The comment was clearly meant just for her but he hadn’t said it quietly enough because the whole table had heard him loud and clear. 

“Joseph,” Kelly said, sounding scandalized. “Stop it.”

“It’s okay, Kelly,” Race said, forcing a smile onto his face, even though he was kind of exhausted from dealing with Joseph tonight.

“No, it’s not okay,” Spot interjected, standing in his seat and leaning over the table a little. “Antonio is double majoring in Dance and Astrophysics, which you would know if you hadn’t been interrupting him all night. He is the smartest and most passionate man I know. He has more talent in his pinky finger than you have in your entire body and will graduate with two very difficult degrees with no class overlap from an Ivy League school in 4 years. He’s already co-authored 2 papers as an undergrad and presented at 4 major conferences this year alone. And what have you done? Relied on daddy’s name for a degree and law school entry?”

“Spot,” Race hissed under his breath, tugging on Spot’s wrist. Both Joseph and Kelly were frozen on the other side of the table. “Sit down.”

“No, Racer. He’s been rude to everyone all night and he doesn’t get to insult your intelligence because one of your majors is dance and he couldn’t bother to listen to you and find out the other.”

Joseph seemed to have collected himself enough to lift an eyebrow, looking amused. “And you got in based on what? The scholarship for poor orphaned kids from Queens?”

“I’m from Brooklyn, asshole” Spot hissed and Race almost laughed. Leave it to Spot to bring up Brooklyn rather than his LSAT score of 179.

“I’m sorry but that is completely inappropriate language for a restaurant like this,” Joseph said still sounding amused. He looked to Dalia and Taylor, apparently aiming for conspiratorial. “I guess a place at Columbia is no guarantee for good breeding.” He turned back to Spot and Race, arms crossed as if he had won. “You should go now.”

“Actually, I think you should go, Joseph.” All eyes turned to Taylor who did not look happy at all. “Sean is right. You’ve been very rude tonight and I can’t say I blame him for lashing out. Kelly, darling, you’re welcome to stay. I’d love to hear more about your article ideas.”

Joseph’s absolutely shocked face would forever be one of Race’s favorite memories. He seemed frozen in his shock but Kelly jumped to action, standing and pulling Joseph up with her. “Thank you so much, Taylor, Dalia, but we’ll both be going. Sean, it was lovely to meet you. Tony, I’ll send you that article I was telling you about. Thank you all so much again. Have a lovely night.”

Kelly grabbed her coat and purse and pulled a shell shocked Joseph out behind her, without another word from him. Spot relaxed a little as he sat back down but Race saw the exact moment that he realized what had just happened.

“Professor, I am so sorry, that was completely inappropriate. We should go too-”

“Please don’t,” Taylor said. “You and Tony have been a delight tonight unlike Joseph. This is exactly why I do these dinners. You never know how a student behaves outside of class unless you meet them outside of class.”

“Yes, please stay,” Dalia said. “I’d like to hear Tony’s opinions on the Kord Industries spacecraft. The younger generation tends to have the most innovative thoughts on these things, in my experience. But first you’ll have to tell us where the nicknames Spot and Racer come from.”

Spot and Race grinned at each other. 

"Les!"

Les did not open the door, which was apparently locked even though they weren't supposed to lock the door. "Leave me alone, Davey! Mama said I don't have to because I have homework."

"Les, you're in fourth grade and Mom made you do your homework on Friday night. You don’t have that much homework!"

“I still have more!”

“Les!” Davey said, banging on the door one more time. Les didn’t answer this time and Davey leaned heavily against the door. “I’m not leaving until you come out.” No answer.

Sarah appeared in front of him not even a minute later, grinning from ear to ear. She grabbed his hand and started pulling him away.

“No, Sarah, I’m not doing this without, Les.” He pulled his hand away but she just grabbed it again.

“No, I have a plan. We’re gonna do like 10 minutes without him. C’mon”

-

Approximately 15 minutes later, Davey and Sarah were back at Les and Davey’s door, this time with the key their parents kept for emergencies. “Les,” Sarah called, knocking on the door even as Davey slowly unlocked the door so they could enter quietly. “Come on, if you don’t get out here, there’s gonna be no dessert.”

Davey nodded to her, slowly turning the door knob. “Yeah, Les, we know you’re not doing homework.”

“I am!” Les yelled back at them. 

When Sarah and Davey opened the door, Les wasn’t paying any attention to them, absorbed in whatever game he was playing on his hand-me-down Nintendo.

“That’s it,” Sarah said, standing over him suddenly and causing Les to yelp. “You’re coming with us.” She grabbed the game from his hand.

“You can’t make me!” he said, crossing his arms.

Davey grinned at Sarah and she nodded. “Yeah. I think we can.” And with that, Davey scooped Les up over his shoulder with only a little bit of difficulty and carried him out of their room. Sarah grabbed Les’s coat and followed behind them.

Les made a racket the whole way outside but it seemed to be more and more put on as they moved away from their room. Soon enough, they were outside and headed towards the substantial pile of leaves Sarah and Davey had managed to rake up in about 15 minutes. “Wanna play in some leaves, Les?”

“Davey, no! No! No! No!” Les shrieked as Davey tossed him into the pile of leaves but he was laughing by the time he hit them. He stood up and put on the jacket and shoes Sarah handed him but then he turned sharply to Davey. “You’re going down.”

“No!” Sarah said, grabbing the hood of his jacket to stop him from moving toward Davey. “We have to make bigger piles before we push anyone else in.”

“No fair!” Les protested but he took the rake Davey handed him anyway and, after making a plan that included rules to a raking game, they got to work forming a massive pile in the center of the yard.

-

Mayer found his wife in the kitchen when he returned home from some errands and a trip to the supermarket for some forgotten groceries. She was washing some dishes and looking out into the backyard through the window above the sink. He came to stand next to her, looking out the window with her and seeing his children throwing leaves at each other as they ran around a giant pile of leaves in the center of the yard.

“How long did it take them to finish?”

“After Davey carried Les outside and dropped him into some leaves?” she said, turning to him with a raised eyebrow. “Only about 45 minutes. Then Les pushed Davey into the leaves and they started doing this.”

“Is dinner ready?” He wrapped his arms around her waist.

“Mhmm.” She leaned back into him, just resting.

“We should call them in to eat if you want to bag up the leaves and take them to yard waste.”

She smiled, as Les snuck up to Sarah with an armful of leaves and dumped them over her head. “We can give them a few more minutes.”

Morris watches him as he blinks the sleep from his eyes and then checks his pocket watch- just about the only thing he has left from their father. "You're late."

Oscar shrugs but Morris can see the tension in his shoulders. He picks up a tray from the other side table, that he must have set down when he came in and found Morris with exploding cards on his chest. "I have food."

Food turns out to be sandwiches and the sticky buns that Morris likes. They dig in and eat mostly in silence until they're about halfway through their sandwiches, when Morris can't help but ask anymore. "So why are you late?"

Oscar is quiet for a minute and just when Morris is about to tell him not to worry about it he says "Some of the boys were talking about taking their Marks over the Christmas holiday."

"Oh," Morris says. 

"Yeah."

They finish eating in silence and then Morris finds an excuse to move to the couch next to Oscar and lean into his side. He's not a kid anymore but Oscar lets him anyway. "We should talk to someone."

"Uncle Weisel is here. Who could we talk to?"

Morris will admit it would be hard but thinking of Oscar's friends taking their Marks and the boys in his own class already talking about theirs makes it seem worth it. It's scary and he's tired of feeling scared. He's tired of pretending his father was a wizard, that he believes where someone got their magic matters. He thinks of Jack Kelly and Charlie Morris and the rest of their friends, all boys and girls the other Slytherins call mudbloods and blood traitors. A lot of them aren't in school this year and Morris doesn't blame them. He doesn't particularly like them and Higgins is a menace but it’s not like they don’t deserve magic because they were born to Muggles. "We could talk to Professor Larkin,” he says, even as the thought occurs to him.