Jaskier arrived at Geralt's flat the next evening just before seven, this time armed with a box of chocolates. After taking Geralt's nonplussed reaction to the bouquet of roses into account, he guessed that Geralt wasn't a flowers kind of guy. Perhaps he would be more amenable to a box (well, more accurately, a plastic purple tub) of Cadbury's Heroes instead. When Geralt buzzed him into the building, Jaskier took the opportunity to check his reflection one last time in the mirrored lift before it trundled to a halt on the top floor. Once again, Geralt had left the front door open for Jaskier. Closing the front door behind him, he found Geralt standing in the open plan kitchen, stirring something in a large pot.

"Take your shoes off at the door," Geralt called over his shoulder. "If you want a drink, I've got beer in the fridge."

Jaskier complied, sitting his boots on the shoe rack and hanging up his jacket on the coat stand. "What are you cooking?"

"Spaghetti bolognese."

"Smells good," he noted, walking towards the kitchen.

Geralt shrugged. "It's easy to cook."

Jaskier set the tub of chocolates on the kitchen counter and grabbed a cold beer from the fridge. He was about to take a swig from the bottle but paused when he spotted the bouquet of roses in the kitchen sink filled with water. "Oh, you kept them."

"What?"

"The flowers."

Geralt glanced at the bouquet and shrugged again. "Well, yeah. I don't have anything to put them in though, so they're living in the sink for the time being."

Jaskier suppressed a smile. Okay, maybe he did like the flowers after all. Setting his beer bottle on the breakfast bar, he asked, "Is there anything that I can help with?"

"You could set the dinner table," Geralt suggested. "Cutlery's in the drawer to my right, placemats and glasses are on the shelf to my left."

Jaskier half-expected the cutlery to be giant-sized like everything else was in this flat, and was admittedly a little disappointed to discover a drawer full of perfectly ordinary, standard-sized kitchen utensils. While he busied himself setting the dinner table (making sure to place their settings next to each other), Geralt dished up the food and brought it over. He frowned slightly when he saw how Jaskier had set the table, but he said nothing and took his seat beside him. "I see you brought some chocolates with you this time."

"I wasn't sure what you liked, but I figured everyone likes Cadbury's."

"You don't have to bring gifts every time you come over here."

"It's good etiquette," Jaskier argued. "And I couldn't bring you wine, could I? Besides, I wanted to give you something nice."

"Why?"

Jaskier rolled his eyes. "Because I felt like it. Must there be an ulterior motive?"

"Is there an ulterior motive?" he challenged.

Jaskier scoffed and stumbled over his words. "No! I mean—why, would an ulterior motive even be such a bad thing?"

Geralt merely smirked and said, "If you're going to be visiting here more often, bring Celebrations next time—I prefer those."

Jaskier couldn't help but grin, not only at the prospect of being a more regular visitor here, but that Geralt hadn't immediately shot down the idea that an ulterior motive would necessarily be an unwelcome one. "Duly noted."

They ate the rest of their meal in relative silence. Once they'd finished, Jaskier cleared the table and filled the dishwasher while Geralt moved over to the couch, cracked open the tub of Heroes and began picking out all of the toffee eclairs. "You don't like these ones, do you?"

Jaskier chuckled and shook his head. "I prefer the Creme Eggs."

Geralt scrunched up his nose in distaste. "I don't like them. You can have them all to yourself."

When Jaskier was done in the kitchen, he sat next to Geralt and rummaged through the tub, picking out a couple of chocolates in red wrappers. "This arrangement suits me just fine." He popped one of the sweet confections into his mouth and mumbled, "So, you said that you wanted to talk to me about something?"

Geralt nodded, got to his feet and walked out of the living room without further explanation. Jaskier watched him disappear into the bedroom and wondered for a moment whether he was actually supposed to follow Geralt, but (disappointingly) he reappeared a moment later holding a bundle of paper. Geralt flopped back onto the couch.

"Since you're on board with the pregnancy, we're going to be spending a lot more time together," he said, flicking through the mysterious papers.

Jaskier chuckled. "Uh, yeah—like, the rest of our lives."

"Exactly. But I'm also well aware that we don't know very much about each other. So, I've taken the liberty of compiling a list of questions for you to answer."

Geralt handed Jaskier a bundle of papers. Jaskier took the proffered bundle and stared at it. "You...you want me to fill in a questionnaire?"

"I've already completed my portion, if you want to take a look." Geralt passed him the second bundle of papers with the list of questions already answered in his neat handwriting. "Feel free to take that home with you."

Jaskier cocked an eyebrow as he scanned through the list of questions: Are you currently employed? If so, what is your occupation? What hours are you available for appointments? The list went on for several pages, and it occurred to Jaskier that this looked more like a job application than an opportunity for them to get to know each other better. He looked up at Geralt, at a loss of what to say.

"Tell you what," he began slowly, holding out the completed questionnaire for Geralt to take back. "How about we go through the questions together?"

"It would be quicker for you just to read them," Geralt pointed out.

"Yes, but I'd rather learn about you from you , not from a sheet of paper," he argued. "I came over here so that we could talk, so we might as well...talk. Yes?"

Geralt looked uncertain. "I suppose so."

"Plus it's not like we're in a rush," Jaskier continued. "Like I said—you and I are going to be in each other's lives for a long time. Potentially the rest of our lives."

"Well, there's a scary thought," Geralt muttered.

"I didn't make any other plans for tonight. Did you?"

"Not really."

Jaskier grinned. "Well then—let's make a cup of tea and start from there, shall we? Do you like tea?"

"Yes," said Geralt uncertainly.

"See? We're learning about each other already," said Jaskier brightly. Rising to his feet he padded over to the kitchen. "I'll put the kettle on." As Jaskier busied himself in the kitchen, he called over to Geralt. "Okay, first question—what's your favourite film?"

Geralt frowned. "That's not on the list of questions."

"So what? I'm interested to know."

Geralt slumped back on the couch and thought for a few moments before answering. "Probably Seven Samurai . Have you seen it before?"

"Never heard of it," Jaskier admitted. "But I'll watch it with you sometime, if you'd like?"

"Okay." There was a long pause before he asked, "Um, what about you?"

"Favourite film? Ooft, that's a tough question. If I had to choose, then it'd have to be The Rocky Horror Picture Show ."

"I haven't seen the film," said Geralt. "But my friend took me to see the show once."

"Really?" asked Jaskier interestedly. He sat two steaming hot cups of tea on the coffee table and settled down next to Geralt again. "What did you think?"

"Not my thing," he admitted. "Too much singing and not enough fighting."

"Huh. Well, I tend to prefer it the other way around," said Jaskier, winking at Geralt. "I'm a lover, not a fighter."

Geralt hummed to himself as he took a sip from his tea. Although the conversation started off a little stilted (and although Jaskier would never admit it), Geralt's questionnaire did help get the ball rolling. They discussed their families, albeit briefly: Jaskier said that his parents and brother still lived in Newcastle, while Geralt confirmed that he was an only child. When Jaskier asked about his parents, Geralt said that he didn't know his father and he wasn't particularly close with his mother.

"What does she think about the baby?"

"She won't be playing a significant role in their life," Geralt replied evasively. "You don't have to worry about her."

Taking the hint, Jaskier dropped the subject of families and moved on. When they started talking about their jobs, Jaskier wasn't too surprised to discover that Geralt used to be in the army. And although he was a little disappointed to discover that Geralt was not, in fact, a spy for MI6, he thought that owning his own private security company was still pretty cool.

"Have you ever guarded a celebrity?" asked Jaskier interestedly.

"A few."

"Anybody that I'd know?"

"I can't tell you that," Geralt laughed.

"Go on," Jaskier groaned, giving Geralt's arm a light shake. "I promise that I won't tell anyone."

"Nobody except Triss, right?" he smirked.

Jaskier opened his mouth to protest, then relented. "Fair point. Well, how long are you going to keep doing bodyguard duties? Isn't it dangerous?"

"I haven't been out in the field in a couple of years," he explained. "My role in the company is strictly office-based now."

"Oh," Jaskier felt relieved to hear that. "That's good."

"What about you?" asked Geralt. "How did you end up in London?"

"I better get us fresh cups of tea before I get into that," Jaskier suggested. "It's a long story."

Geralt smiled. "I don't need to be anywhere else tonight."

Once Jaskier had prepared them fresh drinks, he told Geralt about his time as a student in Glasgow studying at the Royal Conservatoire of Scotland. How he'd met his best friend, Triss, in the city during Fresher's week ("She was a student at the local art school," he explained. "Studying Fine Art—obviously."). He recounted how four years had flown by and he graduated with a bachelor's degree in musical theatre, and had decided to seek his fortune by moving to London (with Triss in tow) in the hopes of making it as a musician and performer. He admitted to Geralt how difficult it had been to find any kind of gainful employment when he moved to the city. But his years of musical theatre training had stood him in good stead and he managed to find employment in the typical low-paid jobs that poor, out-of-work creative industry graduates found themselves in—as a walking tour guide, or sometimes actor at the city's most popular attractions, like the London Dungeons and Warner Bros. Studios. He admitted that he had ping-ponged from one crappy job to the next for years, earning just enough to pay his rent and feed himself, while his ambitions of stardom had been permanently put on hold.

"I did walking music tours of Soho a couple of years ago," he continued. "That's why I know so much about this building—I could tell you when it was built and by who, how long it was a music venue for, what famous people played here...buuuut, I don't want to bore you to death. Sorry, I've been talking a lot, haven't I? I'm going to shut up now and let you get a word in edgeways."

Geralt had a curious expression on his face. "What happened to your music?"

"My music?" he repeated, confused by the question.

"The whole reason you moved here was because you wanted to be a musician," Geralt pressed. "What happened? Do you still write music?"

Jaskier blinked. Evidently, just because Geralt didn't say much didn't mean that he wasn't listening. Jaskier couldn't help but be surprised that Geralt had actually been listening to his rambling monologue about the last decade of his life. His ex, Gareth, would tune him out most of the time, so it made a surprising but pleasant change to actually have someone really hear what he was saying. Still, he shifted uncomfortably on the couch at the query, because of all the questions that Geralt could have asked, this was the most awkward one for him to answer.

"Umm, honestly, I haven't written much lately," he said before admitting, "Truth be told, I haven't written or sang anything in a long time."

"Why not?"

Jaskier shrugged. "I don't have the time. I work long hours, and by the time I get home at night, I'm just so tired, I'd rather just catch up on sleep, you know?" Geralt drew him a sympathetic look, which only made Jaskier squirm. The last thing he needed was pity from the man. "It's not like it's been all bad! I've had some amazing experiences since I moved here: I've been to some amazing shows, and the galleries here are second to none, and there's always something happening—some random festival or carnival or an impromptu street party. And nowhere else in the world would you cross paths with the kind of weird and wonderful people that I've met here. And I met you, of course."

Geralt huffed out a laugh. "I wouldn't have thought meeting me would have been one of your better experiences."

"Well, it is," Jaskier insisted. "That first night we met was...well..."

Geralt rolled his eyes. "Obviously I meant everything since that night."

Jaskier shrugged. "I'm still here, aren't I?"

"Yeah, you are."

Geralt's gaze fell on Jaskier's lips. It was only then that Jaskier realised how close they were: Geralt sat with his arm along the back of the couch, over Jaskier's shoulders but not touching him. As they looked silently at each other, Jaskier could think of a million things that he wanted to say in that moment, but he seemed to have lost the ability to form words in his mouth. Slowly, tentatively, Geralt reached for a flyaway hair on Jaskier's face and tucked it behind his ear. Jaskier could feel his heart thudding in his ears, but he didn't move away. Geralt's fingers traced lightly down his neck, sending a tingling sensation down his body that made him shiver. The look that Geralt was giving him—eyes dark and full of want—made it difficult for Jaskier to think straight. He wanted to kiss Geralt so badly, but he was afraid of what the fallout would be if he misjudged the moment. Even if he didn't and they fell into bed again like that first night, what then? It would make things that much more complicated than they already were.

Like that's even possible, he told himself.

"It's getting late," said Geralt finally before adding reluctantly, "You should probably go home."

Jaskier let out a breath he didn't even realise that he'd been holding. He knew that Geralt was right—that it was the sensible thing to do—but he was still disappointed that Geralt hadn't thrown caution to the wind and just kissed him. He checked the time on his watch and grimaced. "Shit, I've missed the last train home."

"I can call you an Uber."

"I'm not having you pay for another Uber," Jaskier bristled. Not that he could afford it himself, either. How long would it take for him to walk back to Camden from here?

Geralt worried his lip for a moment before blurting out, "Stay then."

Jaskier's heart missed a beat. "Stay the night?"

Geralt nodded slowly. "Stay with me."