#cheating ex

The Friends you make at 3am

The thing no one told Remus about working graveyard was how it slowly takes over the rest of your life. A few missed lunches with friends, slowly turns into missed birthday parties— he hadn’t ment to sleep through it— and so slow Remus did not realize it, the invitations just stopped. 

So Remus friends become the late night travelers of the motel he worked at. An exhausted mom carrying a sleeping toddler on her hip at midnight, in town to see a specialist. Drunk bachelor and bachelorette party goers stumbling back in disarray from thier last ‘free’ night. Sometimes a lost stripper trying to find the room of the soon to be married for a last dance. 

But in the quite hours between the drunk partiers and the early rise construction workers, was his favorite. Those there the hours he could just read. That was the other thing no one told you about working nights, just how much reading time he had now. It was the main reason he kept the job after all.

He was just getting to the red room scene of red white and royal blue when the phone started to ring. Every damn time.Grumbling, Remus flipped the book over and set in on the desk, spinning his chair to pick up the phone— but it wasn’t ringing.

Confused he turned to his cellphone, the small screen lighting up and buzzing across the top of his work bag. It was not a number he recognized, but it looked local. He internally prayed it was not some day shift person calling in. He was fucking exhausted. He could not be fucked to stay another shift or try and find someone willing to come in, that was not his job.

He thought of letting it go to voicemail, but thought better of it and answered. “Hello?”

“Gilderoy?” An angry voice crackled through the speaker, something echoing in the background like like he was on speaker phone.

“Uhh,” Remus’ eyebrows scrunched, “sorry I think you have the wrong number.”

“No we don’t.” Another voice snapped, the words slightly slurring together. If he had to guess, Remus would say they were drunk or the the very least had been drinking. “You fucking man-whore gave my boyfriend your bloody number last night. Don’t pretend to be someone else you stupid little—” 

A laugh bubbled of him before he could stop it, because this was not happening right now was it? “Sorry but I really think you have the wrong number. I work graveyard, and gay as the day is long. So I don’t think I stole your boyfriend. Plus if he took the number, I wouldn’t blame the other person, honestly. That’s on your boyfriend.”

“I’m gay too!” The slurry voice called again, higher pitched than Remus would have assumed was a man, but that’s why he shouldn’t assume he guessed. 

There was a squabble between two people. Was it the previously mentioned boyfriend? Honestly this was the most entertaining thing to happen to Remus yet tonight. Would they fight? Would he be able to over hear them?

After some muffled sounds, clearly the two fight over the phone, a nicer not as drunk voice said, “So sorry for bothering you.” Then the line went dead.

Remus pursed his lips, tossing the phone back onto his bag. He was kinda dissapointed, if he was being completely honest, how that conversation would have ended was going to haunt him for the rest of his night. Unable to do anything about it, Remus opened his book and resumed reading.

Fifteen minutes when by— he was just getting to the steamy bits between Alex and Henry— when his phone rang again. Twice in one night? That was not normal. He scooped it up to find that, it was the same number as before.

“Hello?”

“Hey bruv,” The second calmer voice who had not called him a man-whore said, “Do you wanna know what happened?”

Remus tucked a napkin into his book and leaned back in his chair. “Oh yeah, I was going to be wondering about you guys all night. Tell me everything.”

“Okay, well my best mate, Sirius. He apologizes for calling you all the stuff earlier by the way, we were just caught up in the moment. We were at the Leaky Cauldron, and he stepped out for a smoke and grabbed Benjy’s jacket— that’s his ex by the way— because he had the smokes, and then when he opened the package this folded up number fell out. And it was some bloke named Gilderoy—”

“Gilderoy,” Who Remus guessed was Sirius hissed, “What a proteinaceous bloody name. Imagine trying to moan that during sex?” Remus snickered, and Sirius giggled too, “See even he thinks it a stupid name don’t you? Um… what’s his name?” He mock whispered. 

“I’m Remus.” He added helpfully, a smile pulling at his lips.

“See even Remus thinks Gilderoy is a dumb name.” he slurred, followed by a crash of metal, like he had just tumbled into a trashcan. 

“Careful,” The other man sighed, “Anyway, we find this number and give it a call but in our hurry, we got the last two digits switched and we called you instead.”

Remus nodded, “I figured it was something like that.”

“Well,” they continued, “We called the right number, and you won’t belive it but Gilderoy didn’t answer but his boyfriend did.”

“No.” Remus laughed. This just kept getting better and better.

“YES!” They shouted through a laugh, “And then his boyfriend Edgar, he apparently works with Benjy at the leaky Cauldron. Now he’s headed to the cauldron to beat the shit out of Benjy and we decided to bounce before shit got bad.” 

“Isn’t James so mean, Remus?” Sirius said super close to the microphone now, “He won’t even let me stay to watch my shitty ex get his ass kicked.” 

“Sirius a strong wind could kick your ass right now,” James huffed, “Plus you have gotten us black listed from every other bar in town. I’m making us leave to preserve our future friday nights!”

Remus laughed—a full belly kid of laugh— until tears started to prick in his eyes, and he was wheezing for breath. He could not remember the last time that he had this much fun, and he wasn’t even there. 

But for a moment he could pretend, walking the cold street the smell of rain mixed with the sewage in the street; trying not to throw up. He needed to make some new friends, he missed this feeling.

“Hey Rems,” He could hear Sirius smile through the phone. “Your working right? Where you working this late?”

“Uhh, the hotel across the London Bridge St.”

“That’s so close!” Sirius shouted. Remus was beginning to think that was just how he talked, always on the verge of yelling. “Do you like burgers?”

“Yeah? But I think most people like burgers?”

“Great, we are gonna bring you some.” Sirus announced proudly. “Your one of our mates now, okay?”

Remus chuckled to himself, “Okay.”

“Okay, see you soon Rems.” And before the call ended, he swore he heard Sirius say “He sounds pretty cute don’t you think?”

Remus tossed his phone the table, still laughing about the whirlwind of the last twenty minutes. Stretching out his long limbs, with a groan he got up and made some fresh coffee. It sounded like his new mates needed something to sober them up, and it was the least he could do with them bringing him a burger.

Stumbling and barely saving his cocktail from sloshing everywhere, Jaskier trotted after Geralt. To his horror, he realised they were headed straight for Olivia’s spot at the counter. Geralt didn’t skip a beat, linking arms with Jaskier and winking at him.

Well that didn't help at all. Jaskier’s stomach did a little backflip, even as he clung to Geralt, the alcohol swirling in his veins making it much easier to lean on him. He was momentarily distracted by how nice it was to lean his temple on Geralt’s shoulder, even if it was an awkward angle, and he went a little weak in the knees when Geralt leaned against the bar and pulled him close while they waited for the bartender to get to them. 

Jaskier whispered, “What are you-”

Only to be interrupted by Olivia, “Jullian! Hi! How are you darling?”

He felt Geralt’s grip around him tighten just a bit as she spoke and something deep in his chest purred at the protective gesture as he plastered a blindingly fake smile over his features, “Absolutely lovely, dear! How are you?”

“Good! I’m just here with Valdo,” she gestured over to the man sitting next to her at the bar. He looked like the black haired, greaseball version of Jaskier and it took everything in his liquor addled brain to keep from scoffing. Then it hit him. 

“Oh! The Valdo! Well it’s good to put a face to the name,” Jaskier barely kept from gritting his teeth. 

Geralt hugged him tighter, leaning down to stage-whisper in his ear, “We can go if you want. Lambert can go without birthday shots, love.”

Love?! 

Fuck, Geralt never called him Love. Not even at their drunkest, highest, or most deliriously tired. It had him scrambling for a moment, just looking up over his shoulder at Geralt in absolute wonder and… and probably a little too much affection.

“No! Lambert needs his birthday shot of cheap tequila. Thank you though, sweetheart.” 

The pet name rolled off his tongue far too easily. Normally he kept the pet names to a minimum for Geralt. He’d noticed a bit of bristling early on so he just- held back. Now it felt sinfully indulgent to call him that when he wanted… fuck what did he want?

Luckily they were rescued from the awkward introduction by the bartender asking for their order. 

“Eight shots of Casamigos please! And one lemonade chaser and a shot glass of grenadine please!” Jaskier piped up, whipping his credit card out of his pocket too fast for Geralt to stop him. 

“I thought you said cheap?” Valdo scoffed. 

Geralt frowned, half stepping between him and Jaskier, “It is? It’s no Barrique de Ponciano?”

Jaskier was really trying not to laugh now. They’d n e v e r bought something that fancy, nor would they ever. But they’d been googling the most expensive bottles of different alcohols the other night and Geralt had drunkenly tried for a whole half hour to pronounce the name of this particular tequila. 

The look on Valdo’s face was magnificent. Olivia’s eyebrows disappeared behind her betty bangs and Jaskier felt the purring beast in his chest get louder. 

He reached up to pat Geralt’s cheek, “No need to spoil me tonight.” 

Olivia leveled them with a piercing stare, doing that annoying ‘creating suspense’ thing she liked to do before she said something she was proud of, “I’m glad you two finally got together. I think you’ll be good for each other.”

Geralt did the remainder of the talking while Jaskier stared at him in shock. Unfortunately that was exactly what he wanted. He wanted to sink into Geralt’s embrace like this all the damn time and hear his nearly imperceptible huff of annoyance at comments people made. Nothing would please him more than feeling Geralt’s stubble pressed against his temple when he pressed a kiss to his hairline every day and he did his best in his drunken state to memorize it in case it never happened again. 

He came back from his dazed fantasy to Geralt guiding his hand down to his belt and it took him a panicked moment to realize he was meant to hold on while Geralt lead them back to the party carrying the shots. 

Jaskier offered a quick “Toodles,” and flipped Valdo off with his free hand when Olivia turned her back, but they were soon lost in the sea of people. Without really thinking, he took his shot with the group and dumped the grenadine into his lemonade. Well he was thinking.

And he didn’t stop thinking, staring off into space until Geralt nudged him with his elbow, giving him a concerned look. 

“What the fuck was that?!”

“It worked, didn’t it?” Geralt shrugged, popping a mozzarella stick in his mouth and speaking around it, “And you didn't have to lie your ass off.”

How Geralt was still so calm was beyond Jaskier. Well, it wasn’t, he’d been sure his roommate had absolutely no feelings for him whatsoever, but part of him had held out for a sliver of hope and that part was the dominant part right then. 

“Love?!”

“Are you- mad? I thought it would help sell it…” Geralt rested a hand on his elbow to guide him away from the group.

Jaskier knocked back what had been left of his cocktail before the shots and could feel the regret in advance. It was never a good idea to talk about important things either drunk or hungover but here he was, about to flip shit on Geralt for… being a good friend?

“I’m not fucking angry, I’m yearning!”

The second, much more intense, wave of regret hit him when Geralt’s eyes went wide and his hand dropped from Jaskier’s arm.

“Oh don’t look at me like that,” Jaskier snapped, wiping a hand over his face, “And don’t remind me about this in the morning if I forget.”

Before he could make his escape with his tail between his legs, Geralt gripped him by the shoulders and trapped him in a kiss so frantic and needy his head was spinning when they parted. 

“Jask?”

“Hm?” He had to remember to open his eyes, lost in the tingling ghost of Geralt’s lips on his and the firm grip still holding him close. 

The grin Geralt was sporting was far too cheeky to be allowed much longer but Jaskier refrained from kissing him again to hear what he had to say, “Can I remind you of that in the morning?”