"This is humiliating." Vlad looked at himself in the mirror with subdued horror. He couldn't believe he was about to do this.

"Next time, don't bet against me if you want to win," Danny said. He leaned closer to the mirror to fix his hair, giving it a messier look. "C'mon, Vlad, lighten up. You look hot."

"I look ridiculous," Vlad muttered. "And the bet was clearly a way for both of us to win. I don't know what the problem is."

"The problem is that sex in the shower is stupid, Vlad. I told you we were gonna fall over," Danny said flatly. "You're lucky nothing worse happened. You owe me."

"How?"

Just then, Tucker came walking in. "Um, Danny? Maybe I should just give up on the contacts. They kinda hurt my eyes-" He blinked and stopped abruptly at the sight in front of him. "Whoa."

"I know right?" Danny said excitedly. "He totally looks the part."

"You weren't joking," Tucker said appreciatively. "Vlad does make the perfect Geralt."

"I'll say." Sam came trailing in, dressed up in her Yennefer cosplay. The years have been good to her, giving her curves to show off in a black corset and tight leggings. The knee-high leather boots hugged her legs and accented her butt. She wore her hair in long black waves, and around her neck was Yennefer's iconic choker, adorned with the Obsidian Star. "The old man cleans up nice."

Vlad was offended. He always made damn sure he looked good at all times. Before he could argue, Danny stepped in. "He always good look, Sam."

"Then why do you look like you're two seconds away from jumping his bones?"

Danny blushed, feeling shy all of a sudden. "He just...looks different," he mumbled and busied himself with his own costume. Vlad raised an eyebrow in surprise. This was interesting.

Tucker rolled his eyes in exasperation and fixed the collar of his tunic. He was going all out as Istredd this year. "Okay, focus, we're here for Comic-Con. Danny, ogle your silver fox on your own time. We're winning this year's cosplay competition, you hear me?"

"Tucker, it's just a game."

"No." Steely grey eyes narrowed from behind heavy frames. "Last year, Ingrid and her posse totally dunked on us with their stupid Sailor Moon themed costumes. I am not to be humiliated again, Fenton. This year, I will have my revenge."

"Okay, you got crazy eyes," Sam said carefully. "And need I remind you that we've got our secret weapon this year. No one's gonna beat Vlad in his Witcher get-up. I mean, look at him."

"Yeah, Tuck, I finally roped Vlad into this thing because I knew he would pull it off," Danny chuckled. "What more is it gonna take?"

"I will sell your boyfriend for a corn chip to get to the gold, do you hear me?!"

Danny held his hands up in surrender and laughed.

Vlad slowly raised a gloved hand. "Do I not get a say in this?"

"No, for once, this is not about you, Vlad," Tucker retorted. "We leave in five!"

Vlad looked at Danny in confusion he headed for the door, his heavy footfalls reverberating through the floor. "Was it something I said?"

Danny patted his arm consolingly. "No, babe, he just really hates Ingrid."

It seemed they underestimated just how popular Vlad dressed as Geralt would be at Comic-Con.

Everywhere they went, hordes of girls giggled behind their backs and whispered to each other while pointing in their direction. It was a testament to Tucker's dedication and appreciation for the franchise; their cosplay definitely stood out as authentic, sticking strictly to the show's source material. Tucker looked striking as Istredd, wearing a dark maroon vest with a white tunic and dark pants, tapered at the waist and tailored to his silhouette. Next to him, Sam looked beautiful as Yennefer, complimenting his maroon with her black velvet and leather corset.

Danny looked rather dashing himself in his pale blue jacket, cut and tailored at the waist. His matching pale blue pants tucked neatly into knee-high brown boots.

But Vlad? He was stopping traffic.

The iconic medallion hung from his neck, the symbol of Gwynbleidd resting over his heart. Twin prop swords in their sheaths hung from his back with leather straps, crossing over Vlad's chest tightly to compliment his build. Vlad's silver hair was tied back messily, emulating the rugged nature of his character. Danny wasn't blind. He knew Vlad looked good in black leather armor with a scar on his face. Now, the rest of the world knew too.

Vlad, however, didn't see it the same way.

"They're pointing and laughing at me," he said, annoyed. "I told you I would be made a fool."

"They're not laughing at you, they're fangirling," Danny hissed under his breath. "It's a compliment, you dolt."

"For what?"

"For you." Danny laughed. "As Geralt. You really look the part."

Vlad hummed thoughtfully, eyeing a group of girls nearby as he walked past. They blushed and quickly huddled closer to avoid eye contact. "I suppose. By the way, you never told me what you're going as," he said. "Who are you supposed to be?"

Danny smiled. "Jaskier, the bard," he answered. He jabbed a finger at the lute strapped to his back. "I sing your praises and keep you company on the road, Witcher. So that the townsfolk can know of your great deeds and heart...if they can't already tell by your personality."

"Bewitching," Vlad said dryly. "I take it that your character must be a friend of sorts to Geralt of Rivia."

"Yeah, a friend...of sorts," Danny said playfully.

"What does that mean?"

"Well, there is this thing that Witcher fans like to do as a kind of wish fulfillment, which is to imagine two platonic characters in a romantic relationship," Danny said and gestured between them. "I think you know where I'm going with this."

Vlad sighed deeply. "Please, spare me the details," he said. It seemed there was no end to his suffering.

As the day went on, Vlad stood by silently as fans approached them, asking for pictures. His lack of facial expression in the photos was apparently "very in character". Vlad had no idea what that meant and was very uninterested. Cosplayers came over to fawn over their costumes, which Tucker took great pride in. Sam had her fair share of rabid admirers, most of which were men. At one point, one of them even boldly came forward and asked her to "step on him", whatever that meant. From the look on Sam's face, it seemed that she wasn't too fond of the idea.

Vlad did, however, keep an eye on Danny at all times. It seemed his character was also a fan favorite, and after a vocal rendition of Toss a Coin to Your Witcher, Danny gained the attention of young ladies fast. Vlad wasn't a fool. He was well-aware of his partner's good looks and talented voice. The years were good to Danny as well, shaping his chiseled features to bring out a sort of roguish charm.

It also didn't help that Danny loved to weaponize his smile to get what he wants. It usually worked on him. The little minx.

Unfortunately, it also seemed like it worked on pretty much everyone else.

A guy dressed as some sort of comic book character was shamelessly coming onto Danny, boldly flirting with the young man while standing three feet away from Vlad and his wrath. It was obvious that Danny was trying to be good-natured about it, even if his shoulders looked tense from the interaction. It was one thing to do a little harmless flirting with fangirls while in character, but this was a totally different matter. The guy seemed dead set on bedding Danny and Vlad felt his patience thinning by the second.

Vlad finally had enough when the stranger reached forward for a not-so-subtle elbow touch.

"Are you done?" Vlad stalked toward them and put a possessive hand on Danny's shoulder. "Or do I have to step in?"

A few fangirls screamed excitedly, watching Vlad and Danny closely and cheering for their ship. The guy looked taken aback at the interruption, and quickly put his hands up. "Whoa, we're just talking. Is that a crime?" He laughed derisively. "Maybe you should calm down a little."

That was the wrong thing to say.

Vlad leaned over Danny's shoulder to glare at the man menacingly. His gold eyes molten with building anger. "Maybe you should learn what's good for you, and get lost before I teach you the hard way," he threatened.

Maybe it was the look in Vlad's eyes, or his towering stature that scared the man. But he quickly surrendered and made himself scarce, disappearing into the crowd. Apparently, he wasn't itching for a fight like Vlad was.

Danny smirked and spun around to tug Vlad close by his sword straps. "My hero," he mocked, but the expression in his eyes was thankful.

Vlad raised an eyebrow. "Was that not in character enough for you?" His deep voice rumbled.

"You overplayed your hand a little," Danny flirted. "I could've handled myself, you know."

"Oh? That's a shame. Here I thought I was doing exactly what was expected of me," Vlad said, playing along. "I swing the sword, you sing my praises. Or is that not the deal?"

Danny bit his lip. "I'll make you a new deal. Wear that to bed tonight, and I'll make sure we both win," he whispered, leaning in close.

"Seriously?" Vlad was unimpressed. "Geralt of Rivia?"

"Seriously?" Danny mocked. "Jealousy does it for you? How clichéd, fruitloop."

Vlad growled and yanked Danny close. "Not another word out of you," he said heatedly before capturing Danny's lips in a kiss.

From afar, the simultaneous screams of Geraskier shippers erupted through the halls.

Tucker sat on the couch, tired but triumphant. In his lap sat the first-place trophy for the cosplay competition. It was a cheap, generic decoration from a chain store, but to Tucker, it was worth fighting over just so he could wipe the smug grin off of Ingrid's arrogant face.

"Where's Danny?" He asked. He wanted as many people here as possible to bask in his glory.

Sam shrugged from her end of the couch, busy wiping the makeup off of her face. "I think he went off with Vlad somewhere after we won. Didn't really keep track of them."

Tucker made a noise of disgust. "Sexual animals, I tell ya," he muttered. "...You think they're keeping their costumes on while they fuck?"

Sam stopped, eye makeup remover halfway to her face. "They wouldn't..."

"It's Danny and Vlad," Tucker said, his face deadpan. "They share one brain cell on a good day. What makes you think they won't?"

Something about that suggestion made Sam feel... giddy. "You think they'll stay in character the whole time?"

Tucker seemed confused. "Why would they-?" Then it clicked. "Oh my God, you're gonna write your fucking fanfiction about this, aren't yo-"

"Yes."

Tucker made a gagging noise and stormed off to his hotel room, thoroughly grossed out by all three of them. He slammed the door shut on Sam's overactive imagination and cackling laughter.

Yeah, he won, but at what cost?