Dear new student,

WELCOME to Oxenfurt Academy!

Want to meet like-minded people and fill your social calendar with some great events? Join one of our societies! Boasting over 100 societies on campus, from the Elder Races Archeology Society to Gwent Club, we're sure that you'll find something that matches your interests! Societies are the best way to meet new people from your course and across the University. Come to our open day at Guincamp Hall, Saturday 5th September, 10am-2pm. FREE drinks and snacks available!

Jaskier read over the piece of paper again before folding it in half and tucking it into the back pocket of his jeans. The flyer had been slipped under the door of his dorm along with a half-dozen others the previous evening, and he'd only given it a cursory glance until he had spotted the last line. If the opportunity to make friends and fully immerse himself in the student experience hadn't been enticing enough, the promise of free refreshments was too great an opportunity to pass up. Thankfully, Triss was more than happy to tag along with him.

"They had to organise this in the building furthest away from the student halls, didn't they?" she huffed as they hurried across the chilly campus grounds. She held her scarf closer to her neck and shivered as a gust of autumn wind blew over them. "Bloody hell, it's freezing!"

"I did offer you my coat," Jaskier reminded her.

"And I'm already regretting turning you down," she admitted. Jaskier rolled his eyes, peeled off his woollen coat and threw it over his best friend's shoulders. Triss smiled at him and preened, "Thank you, petal."

"I'm too good to you," he sighed, stuffing his hands into his pockets and quickening his pace.

"That you are," she agreed. "And I wouldn't have it any other way."

Jaskier merely hummed in response, trying to distract himself from the cold by thinking about the hot food that awaited him. It had only been a week since he and Triss had arrived on campus for their first year at university, and already he was missing his mother's cooking. So far, they had been surviving on a diet consisting almost entirely of saturated fats, but the novelty of having microwave noodles for breakfast, lunch and dinner was quickly wearing thin. Jaskier knew that between attending lectures and studying, he'd have to learn to cook at some point: hopefully, there was a cooking club that he could join where he could at least learn the basics. When they finally reached the Esteken Building (no doubt paid for and named after some benefactor with more money than sense), Jaskier pushed open the entrance doors and Triss hurried in after him. They couldn't help but sigh in relief at how much warmer it was, even just inside the foyer.

"Thank the gods," she cried, pulling off Jaskier's coat and folding it over her arm. Evidently, she wasn't in a hurry to return it. "Come on, I think it's this way."

"Do you think they'll have sausage rolls?" Jaskier asked hopefully.

"They better," said Triss. "And coffee. I need my caffeine fix. It's too early in the morning for me."

"It's half eleven," he pointed out.

"Yeah, and I've been up most of the night reading The Druid's Herbarium," she argued. "I'm barely matriculated and Professor von Gratz already has my nose pressed firmly to the grindstone. Unlike some people…"

"It's not my fault that you want to be a Herbalist. You should have majored in Trouvereship and Poetry with me instead."

Triss let out a mirthless laugh. "And do what—spend my days lounging about, reading sonnets and navel-gazing?"

"You say that like it's a bad thing," he pouted.

"For me, maybe," she conceded. "But then I'm not artistic like you are. My time's better spent specialising in something more practical."

Jaskier held out his hands and wiggled his manicured fingers. "Yeah, these are definitely the hands of a poet and not a labourer. Not like yours." He grabbed Triss's hand and tutted at the state of her cuticles. "You've got the hands of a workhorse."

"Horses don't have hands, you plum," she grumbled, snatching back her hand. But when she inspected her own nails she grimaced. "Gods, they really are a mess, aren't they?"

"After we're done here, we'll go back to the dorm and pamper ourselves," Jaskier suggested. "We've more than earned it, dragging ourselves out of bed before midday—it's not even a weekday!"

Triss grinned and hooked their arms together. "Sounds like a plan!"

They followed the signs to Guincamp Hall and weren't surprised to find it packed with students. Dozens of tables were lined up and down the room, each with banners pinned to the front indicating what club or society they represented. Jaskier hovered by the entrance, his eyes scanning the room for the buffet table.

"Any clubs in particular that you fancy checking out?" asked Triss.

"Not really," he admitted. "Maybe something food-related."

"Shocker."

Jaskier gasped and pointed to the far corner of the room. "Free food, two o'clock."

Triss immediately put her game face on and expertly weaved the two of them through the thronging crowds towards the buffet table, marching past a dozen or so tables without so much as a second glance. As they drew closer, Jaskier caught a whiff of freshly baked pastries and he began to salivate; by the gods, they did have sausage rolls! But just as they were about to reach the refreshments, a student with vacant eyes and an eerie smile stepped in front of them and blocked their path.

"Good morning," she said airily. "Do you believe in the grace of Ard Feainn?"

"Who?" asked Triss distractedly, looking over the annoying girl's shoulder towards the food. The girl's strange smile widened.

"Ard Feainn," she repeated. "The Giver of warmth and life, the Protector of humankind. We at the Imperial Cult of the Great Sun Society are recruiting today and would like to invite you to be saved!" She thrust a bundle of bright yellow pamphlets in their faces. "Won't you consider signing up today? We meet every Sunday morning for reflection and prayer."

Triss grabbed the pamphlets and side-stepped the girl. "We'll think about it. Come on, Jas, we need to get there before all the good stuff's been pilfered!"

Only a couple of other people stood at the buffet table, but Jaskier paid them no mind. He was focused on his stomach and filling it with hot pastries. He picked up a couple of paper plates, handing one to Triss, and set to work, piling food onto his own. Miniature quiches, scotch eggs, individual pork pies...Triss was picking up at least two of everything. The buffet seemed to have everything—everything—except sausage rolls. Just as disappointment was about to set in, Jaskier spotted a solitary meat pastry on a tray at the far end of the table. Bypassing the rest of the food on offer, he marched to the end of the table, hand outstretched, his prize within his grasp—

Only for a much larger hand to swipe the delectable pastry off of the tray at the last moment.

Jaskier couldn't help but audibly groan. Typical. Absolutely typical. He looked up to see who the thief was and was immediately disarmed by the man that stood before him. Tall and handsome with lily-white hair that brushed against his broad shoulders, this man, this...thief...was a sight to behold, even if he was stuffing his face with the last sausage roll. Jaskier stared, mesmerised, as the mysterious stranger sucked his lithe fingers clean and brushed flakes of puff pastry off of his hulking chest. Jaskier's eyes followed the movement, only for him to hone in on the contents of the man's plate, and the moment of lust at first sight vanished only to be replaced with a feeling of apoplectic rage.

"Did you…" he began slowly. "Did you take all of them?"

The man, who was about to shove another pastry in his mouth, paused mid-bite and frowned at him. "Excuse me?"

Jaskier pointed accusingly at the man's plate, which had no less than six of the elusive pastries on it. "You took all of the sausage rolls!"

The man glanced at his plate and shrugged his shoulders. "Yeah, I guess I did. Sorry, but they are my favourite." He held his plate out to Jaskier. "You can take one, if you like."

But this merely incensed Jaskier further. "No, thank you. Look, you can't just clear the plate of one thing and keep it for yourself. What about the rest of us?"

The man cocked an eyebrow at him. "As far as I'm aware, buffets operate on a first come first served basis."

"No, there are rules to these things!" Jaskier insisted. "A buffet etiquette."

"A buffet etiquette?" the man smirked. "Care to enlighten me about what that entails?"

"Well, you don't clear a platter of food just for yourself, for starters! And you don't eat while standing in the buffet line, that's disgusting."

"Your friend's stuffing her face," he pointed out. "I don't see you pulling her up for it."

Jaskier turned and, sure enough, Triss was at the other end of the table shovelling food into her mouth with one hand while piling her plate with another. Pursing his lips, he turned back to the handsome, infuriating stranger. "Yes, well...she didn't steal all of the sausage rolls, did she?"

"I didn't steal anything!" he laughed. "Look, would it help if I put a couple of them back?"

The man started tipping the contents of his plate back onto the table, causing Jaskier to shout in protest. "No, don't do that! You've already touched it!"

The two men continued to bicker over the food until a small crowd of curious onlookers began forming around them. Not wanting to be remembered as the bloke who picked a fight with the hot, dishy guy over a plate of sausage rolls, Jaskier decided to throw in the towel. He discarded his plate on the buffet table and turned on his heel. "Oh, just do whatever you like! I've lost my appetite."

"Hold on," the man grabbed Jaskier's shoulder. "Look, obviously we've gotten off on the wrong foot. I'm Geralt. What's your name?"

"His name's Jaskier," Triss mumbled through a mouthful of food. She wiped her hand clean on her skirt and held it out to Geralt. "I'm Triss, by the way."

Jaskier shot her a mutinous look before turning his nose up at Geralt. "Enjoy your sausage rolls, Geralt. Now if you'll excuse me, I have better things to do than waste my time arguing the finer points of buffet etiquette with a boorish oaf like yourself."

Jaskier was pleased to see Geralt's eyes widen with shock at those words. He grabbed Triss's arm and dragged her away into the crowd of students while she waved goodbye, balancing her plate of food in the other hand.

"See you around, Geralt!" She turned to Jaskier and laughed, "Look at you, making friends already."

"Very funny!" he snapped. "What did you tell him my name for?"

"Because he asked."

"Well, maybe I didn't want him to know," he shot back, shaking his head in disbelief. "Honestly, the nerve of that man! Taking all of the good food and then tipping it back onto the serving dish after his mucky fingers have been all over it!"

Triss glanced over her shoulder in the hopes of catching sight of Geralt again. "Mmm, I wouldn't mind him putting his mucky fingers all over me. What team do you think he plays for?"

"Don't know. Don't care," Jaskier declared. "Come on, let's head back home. I've had enough of his place."

"Not yet!" she protested. "I want to look around first, see if there're any decent societies I fancy joining."

"Urgh, fine," Jaskier grumbled. "Let's make it quick, though. I don't want to risk bumping into him again."

"Aww, you get so hangry when someone messes with your food," she teased, pressing a cocktail sausage to his lips. He rolled his eyes but opened his mouth. It wasn't the sausage that he wanted, but at this point, he'd take what he could get.

Reluctantly, Jaskier followed Triss around the room as she perused each desk, taking pamphlets from several of the societies and stuffing them into her handbag. After pinching a few more tasty morsels from her plate, his temper began to wane and he jotted his name down on the sign-up sheets for a few different clubs that interested him: naturally, he signed up for the Gwent Club while Triss gave it a wide berth. The Equestrian Society also tickled his fancy (he'd always been fond of horses) so he took one of their pamphlets and tucked it into his back pocket for safekeeping. He even managed to find a cooking club that was recruiting beginners and eagerly put his name down for that.

After they'd exhausted their search for noteworthy societies to join, the friends headed back to their dorm for a pamper session and pizza. Jaskier sat cross-legged on the floor trying his best not to prod at the aloe vera face mask that Triss had put on him.

"It feels like it's going to slide off my face," he complained, sifting through the many pamphlets Triss had collected. Triss, meanwhile, sat on the bed painting her toenails a lurid shade of green.

"You look fine!" she cried before relenting, "Well, technically you look like a Drowner right now, but your skin will be positively glowing in a few minutes."

Jaskier picked up one of Triss's pamphlets and pulled a face. "Hen Llinge classes? Since when do you want to learn Elder Speech?"

"It'll help with my Herbalist classes," she reasoned, blowing on her toenails to dry the paint. "A lot of the older textbooks are written in it and the library doesn't have translated editions available."

"Are you planning on learning Dwarvish, Gnomish and Goblin, too?" he asked, brandishing more pamphlets at her.

"I'm just trying to keep my options open."

"You're not going to have any time to study for your exams at this rate," he mused. "Or have pamper sessions with me."

"Don't be silly," she laughed, leaning over the bed at a precarious angle to give him a one-armed hug and smack a kiss to the top of his head. "I'll always make time for our pamper sessions!"

Jaskier couldn't help but smile. "Good. While we're still on the subject of clubs, do you fancy tagging along with me to the first cooking club meeting tomorrow?"

"What time?"

Jaskier checked the pamphlet to confirm. "From twelve to two in the Ra'mses Gor-Thon Building."

"Damn, I can't," she pouted. "The Herbalist Society's first meeting is at the same time."

"Traitor. You're abandoning me already," he joked. "Not to worry. I'll just check it out myself."

Triss walked Jaskier partway to his cooking club before parting ways to head to her own club, asking him to bring back something tasty for dinner. Jaskier wasn't sure what they would be making today, but he hoped that with his limited skills, it would at the very least be edible. Entering the classroom, he noted that it looked similar to the Home Economics classroom in his high school: several two-person tables were situated in the centre of the room while the walls were lined with cookers and sinks. Taking one of the free tables near the back, Jaskier sat down and looked around the room at the other students. He didn't recognise anyone from his Poetry lectures. Hopefully, whoever sat next to him was a half-decent cook.

"Is this seat taken?"

Jaskier's head spun around to see Geralt—the sausage roll thief! he thought—standing by the vacant seat next to him.

"What are you doing here?" he blurted out.

Geralt cocked an eyebrow at him. "Same as you, I imagine. This is the beginners cooking class, isn't it?"

Jaskier was tempted to say no, it wasn't, and send Geralt on his merry way, but before he got the chance to respond, a dwarf with a large, bushy beard tucked inside a hair net stood at the front of the classroom and clapped his hands together to get their attention.

"Good afternoon, everyone! Welcome to the cooking club. My name's Da'an, I've been a member of this society for three years now and I look forward to getting to know all of you! Now, am I right in saying that some people here have never cooked before? If that's you, please raise your hand. Don't be shy! We're not here to judge."

Jaskier tentatively raised his hand. So did Geralt. A few other people in the class did too, which put Jaskier's mind at ease. Da'an scanned the room and nodded. "Okay, that's a few of you. Don't worry if you don't know anything yet, I was in the same position when I first joined the club. It won't be long before you've mastered the basics and soon enough, you'll be serving feasts to your families. Or, at the very least, feeding yourselves enough to survive the next four years of your degree."

Laughter rippled throughout the classroom and Da'an continued, "Before we make a start, is there anything in particular that you would like to learn to cook? Any and all suggestions are welcome."

Geralt immediately raised his hand. "Could we learn how to make sausage rolls?"

Da'an nodded and scribbled the suggestion on the blackboard. Jaskier drew him a withering look but Geralt only smirked. What an absolute git, he thought. Thinks he's so funny. A funny, handsome git. Gods, why does he have to be so good-looking?

Jaskier cleared his throat and pushed that treacherous thought aside, concentrating on the list of other suggestions people had made; mutton stew, chocolate soufflé, and duck confit were also included. Evidently, someone wanting to show off suggested they learn how to make boeuf bourguignon, which Jaskier could barely pronounce, let alone have any hope of cooking. While Da'an discussed the importance of hygiene, Geralt shook his head.

"Boeuf bourguignon?" he muttered. "What smart arse suggested that?"

Despite himself, Jaskier huffed out a small laugh. "It does sound a tad pretentious, doesn't it?"

"A tad? I came here to learn some practical skills, not to show off."

"Really? I thought you were here to pinch more food off of my plate."

Geralt pulled a face. "I didn't pinch anything."

Jaskier scoffed. "You as good as!"

"It's not my fault you were slow off the mark. If you were so keen on the sausage rolls, you should have turned up earlier."

"I wouldn't have needed to do that if you weren't such a greedy bugger," said Jaskier testily.

Geralt sighed. "Are you going to lecture me on buffet etiquette again?"

"What would be the point? It's not like you'd listen."

Geralt rolled his eyes and turned back to face the front of the classroom. Evidently, he'd had enough of their prickly sparring session. Since Jaskier had managed to get the last word in, he supposed that he was the victor, but he didn't feel particularly good about it. He glanced in Geralt's direction a couple of times, but Geralt kept his gaze pointedly fixed straight ahead. They didn't talk for the rest of the session. Even as they stood side by side at their stoves, they concentrated on perfecting their soft-boiled eggs with mixed results; somehow, Geralt had managed to over boil his, so much so that the yolk had turned solid and grey. Jaskier, meanwhile, hadn't boiled his for long enough and when he tapped the side of the egg with a spoon, it split in half and splashed raw egg all over the table.

A smile crept up Geralt's face as he watched Jaskier struggle to mop up the membranous mess with a fistful of paper towels. "I'd offer you half of mine, but I've had my—what was it you said again?—my mucky fingers all over it already."

"I prefer my eggs to be softer than a golf ball, thanks," Jaskier quipped.

He tutted as the raw egg he tried to scoop onto the paper towels slid back onto the table. How the hell were you supposed to clean up this stuff? Da'an called their first cooking session to an end and the students began to file out of the classroom. Geralt followed suit, slinging his backpack over his shoulder and heading for the exit, leaving Jaskier on his own to clean up the mess of his own making. Just as Jaskier was beginning to feel very sorry for himself, Geralt reappeared brandishing a large, plastic salt shaker and proceeded to dump a liberal amount of salt on top of the gloopy mess Jaskier had made.

"What are you doing?" he protested.

Geralt placed the shaker onto the table. "The salt will stick to the egg and make it easier to clean up. You're welcome."

Jaskier blinked. "Oh...thanks."

Geralt turned on his heel and left Jaskier staring after him, thinking that perhaps he wasn't such a massive git after all.

Jaskier sat at his desk, staring out of the bedroom window at nothing in particular while Triss spun in circles on the chair beside him. She was chatting away but he wasn't really taking in anything that she was saying. Too lost in his own thoughts, his mind kept returning to one person in particular with lily-white hair and biceps that could easily crush a coconut.

"Hello…" Triss said loudly, nudging him on the shoulder to get his attention. "Are you even listening to me?"

"Not really," he admitted.

Triss stopped spinning in her chair and frowned at him. "What's gotten into you? You look grumpier than usual. Are you hungry?"

Jaskier shook his head. "No, it's not that."

"Well, I'm not psychic. Tell me what's on your mind."

Jaskier hesitated a moment before answering. "It's nothing. I'm just thinking about that bloke from the other day."

Triss's eyes lit up. "Ooh, the hot sausage roll thief! What's he done this time?"

"Nothing really," he shrugged. "I mean, I told you about the cooking club."

"Yeah, it sounds like he's as good a cook as you are," she laughed.

Ignoring the jibe, Jaskier continued. "Well, that's not the only place I've seen him. Like yesterday afternoon, I went to Gwent Club and he was there."

"Okay, so he likes Gwent," she shrugged. "So do you and a million other people."

"And then last night, when I went to the Equestrian Club, he was there again."

Triss frowned slightly. "Okay...well, surely that's coincidental."

"Yeah, I thought so, too," said Jaskier. "Until I went to the Choir Club this evening."

Triss's mouth fell open. "Surely not…"

Jaskier nodded. "He was there—again."

Triss sank back in her chair. "Well, it's going to be one of two things, isn't it? Either you've got yourself a stalker, or you two just have a lot in common. Occam's razor dictates that the simplest explanation is usually the correct one."

"Which is?"

"Clearly, he's stalking you."

Jaskier tutted and crossed his arms. "That's not funny."

"Sorry. Joking aside, maybe he's trying to get your attention?"

"Why?"

"Why do you think?"

Jaskier scoffed at Triss's suggestion. "I seriously doubt he'd be interested in me. I mean, I don't even know if he bats for my team. And even if he did, he's so…you know."

"Feel like you'd be punching above your weight, a bit?" she finished for him.

"As indelicately as you've put it, yes," he replied testily. "He might be a bit of an arse—"

"But what an arse," Triss sighed dreamily. "Okay, so he's drop dead gorgeous, but you don't give yourself enough credit. Look at you! You're positively adorable."

"Wow, thanks for that," he replied flatly. Considering Triss's words for a moment, he wondered aloud, "Do you really think he's interested in me?"

"Only one way to know for sure," she shrugged. "Ask him out."

Jaskier gaped at her. "I can't do that!"

"Why not?"

"Because that would be embarrassing!" he argued weakly. "And I hardly know anything about him."

"You've attended a half dozen clubs together, you must have spoken to him!"

"A little bit," he relented.

"And?"

Jaskier thought for a moment. "Well, he's from Kaedwen, and he's studying zoology because he wants to be a Witcher when he graduates. Oh! And he has two younger brothers, but Eskel's applied to study at the Imperial Academy instead. Geralt claims it isn't sibling rivalry, but that's not how it sounded to me...why are you looking at me like that?"

Triss had an amused smile spread across her face. "Sounds like you know plenty about him."

"Maybe."

"It also seems like there's more to the man than stolen pastries," she pointed out.

"Urgh, fine. Perhaps my first impression of him was a little off," Jaskier conceded. "He's actually been quite lovely to speak to."

"When will you be seeing him again?"

"Tomorrow," he said. "Cooking club again."

"Great! Here's my advice: sit next to him, refrain from insulting him for more than a few minutes if you can, and I'm sure he'll say yes to a date." Triss spun around once more in her chair before hopping back onto her feet. "I'm going to love you and leave you, petal—I've got a test tomorrow morning that I should probably study for—make sure that you wear something nice!"

Triss flounced out of the room, leaving Jaskier to panic about what outfit would make the best impression.

Jaskier checked his warped reflection on the back of a tablespoon. He'd opted for the beige shirt with taupe jeans because, according to Triss, it made the blue of his eyes 'pop'. Carding his fingers through his hair one last time, he quickly tossed the spoon back into the cutlery drawer when he saw Geralt enter the room. Playing it cool, Jaskier acted as though he hadn't seen him enter, only turning to smile at Geralt when he took the empty seat next to him.

"Afternoon, Geralt," he said brightly. "You're looking well."

Geralt returned the smile and paused, his eyes fixed on Jaskier's face. "You look different today."

"Do I?" asked Jaskier, feigning ignorance, although he was quietly pleased that Geralt had noticed. Geralt leaned closer, frowning slightly.

"Are you wearing cologne?"

Jaskier's grin broadened. "Do you like it?"

Geralt shrugged. "S'nice."

Well, this was promising. Maybe Triss was right after all and Geralt was interested in him. Jaskier had spent the previous evening rehearsing in his head how he was going to ask Geralt out, covering every possible eventuality. He'd wait until the end of the club session to invite him to the student union, The Spearhead Inn—that way, if Geralt said no, he didn't have to sit awkwardly with him for an extended period of time. It would also mean that he couldn't return to the cooking club out of shame, but Jaskier deemed it a risk worth taking. But if Geralt said yes, The Spearhead Inn was the cheapest place for drinks and only a stone's throw away from the dorms. That way, if the date was a disaster, Jaskier could make a quick escape. But if the date went well and they wanted to head back to his place…well, they wouldn't have long to wait then, either.

This time around, Da'an taught them how to make his Aunt Lucy's homemade podłomyki. He tried to show Jaskier and Geralt how to properly knead the dough and form very thin oval pancakes with their hands. But, once again, the end result scarcely looked like it was supposed to: Geralt's pancakes were lumpy and uneven, but he managed to bake his properly on the open fire. Jaskier started well enough, but when he decided to show off by flipping his podłomyki, he missed the frying pan and it fell in the fire. When he managed to scoop it out of the flames, it was black as charcoal. He tried brushing off the ash and picking off the burnt parts, but it wasn't salvageable. Geralt offered to share his podłomyki, and this time, Jaskier took him up on the offer.

"What do you think?" asked Geralt.

Jaskier's jaw was beginning to ache from chewing the over-kneaded pastry. "It's a bit tough and dry, and it doesn't look like much...but it tastes nice."

Geralt smirked. "Yeah, I think that's the plum sauce masking how bad it actually tastes."

"It's still better than mine."

"Hmm, I won't argue with that."

As the session came to an end and the students began cleaning up, Jaskier turned to Geralt. He'd held off the inevitable for long enough— if he was going to take the plunge and ask Geralt out, it was now or never. "Geralt…"

"I've been meaning to ask you something," said Geralt suddenly. Jaskier blinked a couple of times trying to recompose himself. Surely, Geralt was about to beat him to the punch?

"Yes?" he asked a little breathlessly.

"That girl that you hang out with," he began. "The redhead."

Jaskier's smile faltered. "You mean Triss."

Geralt nodded. "Yeah. Um...is she your girlfriend, or..?"

Jaskier's heart sank. "No, she's just a friend."

Geralt's eyes lit up. "Really?"

"Yup. And she's single, if that helps," Jaskier added a little grudgingly.

"Oh. right." Geralt hesitated. He looked as though he was going to say something else, but then he simply gave a curt nod. "Cool."

"Cool," Jaskier repeated, although it felt as though the words were stuck in the back of his throat. There was a long, awkward pause as they stared at one another. Predictably, Jaskier was the first to buckle. He picked up his backpack and slung it over his shoulder, hurrying for the exit as quickly as he could.

"Jaskier—"

"See you later, Geralt," he cut in quickly.

"Oh. Right. Sure thing," Geralt called after him. "Umm, I'll see you tomorrow at Gwent Club."

Jaskier grimaced. Yeah right.

The moment he'd arrived back at the dorm, Triss had asked him what had happened. Jaskier, barely able to look at his friend, mumbled that Geralt 'wasn't interested' in him that way before retreating to his bedroom. Several days had passed since then, and the only time Jaskier had left his room was to attend his lectures. He spent the rest of his time in a cocoon of self-pity, wrapped in blankets and watching movies while he stuffed his face with chocolates. He should have known that Geralt wasn't interested in him. It all made sense now—the only reason he had even entertained the thought of talking to Jaskier was so that he could ask about Triss. Well, Triss was welcome to Geralt, he thought bitterly. She fancied him anyway, so he wished them all the happiness in the world.

Just then, a blond man who looked remarkably like Geralt appeared on the television screen. Jaskier's reaction was to let out a long sigh and pop another chocolate in his mouth. There was a loud knock at the door and Triss's voice called out.

"Oi! Are you alive in there?"

"Go away."

Ignoring his request for solitude, Triss threw the door open and entered the room. She looked between the television and the mess of blankets and chocolate wrappers that Jaskier had surrounded himself in. "What are you doing?"

"Watching Stardust," he mumbled.

"You know that's not what I meant," she said, brushing away a pile of sweetie wrappers before sitting on the edge of his bed. "You've been moping about in your room for days. What's going on with you?"

"Nothing," he lied. "I'm not feeling well."

"Well, you smell awful," she pointed out, scrunching up her nose. "When's the last time you showered?"

"What day is it?"

"Saturday."

Jaskier thought for a moment before shrugging. "Dunno."

Triss pursed her lips. "You've been acting weird ever since you came back from your cooking club, so obviously this has got something to do with Geralt."

"I don't want to talk about it," he pouted. "Just leave me be, Triss. I need to get through this in my own time."

"I know that you're prone to amateur dramatics, but this is ridiculous," she bristled. "Let me guess—you asked him out and he turned you down—well, that's his loss. But that doesn't give you an excuse to lie here and act as though you've experienced some great tragedy like Mislav and Florian."

"I didn't ask him out," Jaskier admitted. "I didn't even get the chance to."

Triss frowned with confusion. "Then what the hell happened?"

"He started asking about you," he grumbled. "Clearly, he was only talking to me so that he could find out more about you. Well, I assured him that we are not an item and that you are single. So...go. Be happy. And leave me to wallow in my own self-pity."

Triss shook her head. "You really are an idiot."

"Excuse me?" he exclaimed.

"He's probably asked about me because he sees us hanging out all of the time!" she cried. "He's probably wondered if we were dating so that he could ask you out, you plum!"

Jaskier gaped at her. "But...but he didn't ask."

"Did you give him the chance to?" she challenged.

Jaskier sank back into the bed. "Well...no. I made a speedy exit when I thought that he was interested in you."

Triss let out an exasperated sigh and got back to her feet. "Get dressed—no, get showered first—and meet me in the living room. We need to discuss a contingency plan."

"For what?" Jaskier called after her.

"For you to ask out Geralt!" she declared. "Properly this time!"

She slammed the bedroom door shut but Jaskier could hear her muttering to herself as she headed down the corridor about what an idiot he was. He looked down at himself and grimaced at the sight: Triss was right, he needed to pull himself together. Tossing off the bedsheets, he sent sweet wrappers and crumpled up hankies flying in all directions, but cleaning up the mess could wait—he needed a shower. Pronto.

Shedding his dirty clothes, he dropped them at his feet and padded into the shower room. The moment the scalding hot water struck the top of his head and ran down his back, Jaskier let out a contented sigh; a hot shower never failed to make him feel better, no matter how miserable he felt. He breathed in deeply as he massaged juniper shampoo into his scalp, allowing the tension and self-pity that he'd allowed to grip him for days to melt away and disappear down the drain. Once he was cleaned, he wrapped a fluffy towel around his chest and applied a charcoal mask to his face. He was sure that Triss would approve—if he was going to ask Geralt out on a date, he had to look his best.

There was a loud knock at the door then. "Are you almost ready?"

"Not quite!" he called, pulling a variety of shirts out of his wardrobe and laying them on the bed.

"Well, hurry up! I haven't got all day," she replied.

Jaskier rolled his eyes but didn't bother to dignify her with a response. He proceeded to pull out a half dozen pairs of trousers, hemming and hawing about what colours would go best, which would complement his fair skin tone, what would look sexiest—

There was another loud knock at the door. Jaskier gritted his teeth in frustration, tossed the shirt that he had been inspecting onto the bed and marched towards the door. "I told you that I'm not ready yet!"

Jaskier pulled open the door to be met with not Triss, but Geralt. A wide grin immediately broke out across his face at the sight of Jaskier in his fluffy towel and face mask.

"I can see that," he quipped.

Jaskier screamed and slammed the door shut in Geralt's face.

"Hello to you, too," said Geralt through the door.

"What are you doing here?" Jaskier demanded.

"I came to see you," he explained. "You haven't been to any of the clubs this week and I haven't seen you around campus. I wondered if you were sick, so I wanted to check in on you."

Jaskier couldn't believe it. He took a tentative step towards the bedroom door. "You...really? You came to check on me?"

"Well, yeah. That's what friends tend to do when one of them vanishes off the face of the Continent." Reluctantly, Jaskier cracked the door open and peered out into the hall where Geralt stood holding a plate wrapped in tinfoil. He held it up to Jaskier. "I brought you something."

Curiosity piqued, Jaskier asked, "Do you mind waiting a minute? I just need to…"

Slowly, he closed the door on Geralt's face again before scrambling in a wild panic to get dressed and tidy his bedroom. He used his feet to kick his dirty clothes wrappers and used hankies under the bed while he buttoned up his shirt, silently admonishing himself for not having the room habitable to live in, let alone be presentable for guests. Just before opening the door again, he checked his reflection in the mirror and cursed when he realised that he still had the charcoal mask on. He leaned over the sink, scrubbing his skin clean as quickly as he could, soaking his shirt in the process and needing to change into a fresh one. When he was finally presentable, he let out a shaky breath to calm himself and opened the door again. Miraculously, Geralt was still standing there.

"Can I come in now?" he asked.

Jaskier stepped aside and ushered Geralt into the room. "Sorry about the mess but I wasn't expecting any visitors."

When Geralt stepped passed him, Jaskier stuck his head out into the corridor and saw Triss standing by the living room entrance, beaming at him and giving him the thumbs up. Jaskier would be having words with her about this later, but right now, he had more pressing matters to attend to.

"I'm not here to see the room," Geralt reminded him. "I came to check on you."

"I'm fine," Jaskier assured him, closing the bedroom door shut and leaning against it. "I've just been busy this week with classes and coursework."

Geralt's eyes slowly scanned the bedroom. "Really? 'Cause you left the cooking club in quite a hurry." Jaskier felt a stab of embarrassment thinking about the conversation they'd had that day but quickly squashed that feeling down to deal with at a more appropriate time. Geralt pointed to the lute that had been discarded in the corner of the room. "You play?"

Jaskier suppressed a groan when he realised that the lute was propped up by a pile of empty pizza boxes. "A little bit."

"Cool. I'd like to hear you play sometime."

In an effort to draw Geralt's attention away from the pizza boxes, Jaskier asked, "You said you brought something for me?"

"Oh yeah." Geralt turned back to face Jaskier and held the plate out to him. "Consider it a get-well-soon present."

Jaskier took the proffered plate, peeled off the tinfoil and stared down at a plate of sausage rolls. At least, he thought that they were sausage rolls, because if they were, they were the strangest looking savoury pastries that he'd ever laid eyes on: they varied in shape, colour and size. Some looked incredibly phallic with sausage meat sticking out of both ends, while others looked like they had no meat in them at all. Geralt cleared his throat and sounded nervous when he spoke.

"You missed Da'an teaching us how to make them this week. They're not brilliant, obviously," he explained. "It's the first time I've ever tried making them. But I know that you like them, and...well, I wanted to give it a go."

Jaskier looked up at Geralt. "You made these for me?"

Geralt shrugged. "Yeah. But don't feel obligated to eat them if you don't want to."

Jaskier picked up one of the pieces that had some sausage poking out of the end and took a delicate bite. His teeth sank into the pastry, which flaked and melted in his mouth. He chewed slowly, amused at how closely Geralt was watching him. Finally, he smiled. "It's good."

Geralt looked visibly relieved. "Thank fuck for that. I lied, by the way—that isn't my first batch, it's actually my third. The first two were completely inedible."

Jaskier laughed and bowed his head. "Well, that's even more thoughtful. Thank you."

"No problem." Geralt hesitated before speaking again. "You know, I um...I was wanting to ask you something at the cooking club, but you ran out on me before I got the chance."

"Really?" asked Jaskier hopefully.

Geralt nodded. "I know that when we first met we got off on the wrong foot, but getting to know you these last few days, well...I dunno about you, but I'd like to get to know you better. So, if you fancy grabbing a pint with me sometime, that would be...nice."

Jaskier's heart missed a beat. "Are you asking me out on a date?"

"Uh...yeah."

Jaskier sat the plate on his bedside table. "Before I give you my answer, I'm going to ask you something, and I want you to give me an honest answer."

Geralt looked worried, but he nodded. "Okay…"

"Have you been joining the same clubs as me just so that you can talk to me?"

Geralt's eyes widened with surprise. "No! Well..." his shoulders sagged. "Okay, I may have tagged along to the Choir Club after you mentioned that you were going. Full disclosure—I can't sing for shit."

"I know," Jaskier laughed. "I heard you."

"The other clubs though, I'd already signed up for them," Geralt assured him.

"So...we really do just have a lot in common?"

Geralt smiled. "I guess so."

Jaskier let out a sigh of relief. "Well, that's reassuring."

"So, you'll go out with me?"

Jaskier answered by pulling Geralt towards him and kissing him. He felt Geralt smile broadly for a moment before his lips relaxed and he melted into the kiss, pressing closer to Jaskier. Sure, they would go out on a date—at some point. But that didn't mean they couldn't get better acquainted with each other right now.

There was another knock at the door and Triss called through, "Are you guys kissing yet?"

Jaskier snarled and broke the kiss. "Will you bugger off already?!"

"I'll take that as a yes, then," she replied, sounding quite pleased with herself. "I'll leave you boys to it."

Geralt chuckled and nuzzled Jaskier's neck. "Does she do that a lot?"

"Constantly," Jaskier groaned.

"Well, you're welcome to come over to my place next time, if you like?" he offered. "It's a little more private there."

Jaskier grinned. "Yeah, that'd be great."

"I can try and cook for you too," he offered but Jaskier just laughed and shook his head.

"It's probably safer for the both of us if we just order in."

Geralt smiled and pressed a kiss to Jaskier's neck. "Sounds good to me."

THE END