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Yennefer never thought she’d be glad to see that fucking idiot of a bard, but one look at him and she knew that the dragon hunt had hit Jaskier just as badly as it had for her. It took one to know one, and Jaskier was clearly nursing a broken heart. If the complete change of fashion and haircut hadn’t given it away, then the songs would have tipped her off. He was still in the angry denial stage of the break up it seemed, whereas Yennefer was having regrets.
She was so fucking mad.
It was the djinn wish making her have regrets, pulling her back to Geralt. Perhaps that’s why she’d followed the noise of his bard.
“Bard,” she called over to the figure by the bar.
Jaskier spun around, arms wide and flailing as always, and blue eyes more piercing than she remembered. “Witch,” he countered.
They fell into an unexpected embrace. Yennefer wasn’t even sure who had initiated it, but for once the bard was quiet, an unspoken shared grief between them for the love they had both lost.
“Come, Yennefer, I have a room and a tab at the bar. Let’s drown our sorrows together, as old enemies,” Jaskier finally announced, gripping her arm in a rare display of affection.
She smirked, rolling her eyes. “Careful, Jaskier, that almost sounds like we’re friends.”
“Oh the horror!”
“The wine better be good,” she added. “If there’s one thing you were good at it was finding the best bottles in a shit hole.”
With another wild flick of his wrists, Jaskier cried in mock offence. “Oh, ho, ho! I think you’ll find that I have many a talent, dear friend.”
“Friend?”
“Fuck!”
Jaskier’s room was small, but as promised he had two of the finest bottles of Est Est in the tavern, a favour from the owner… apparently, and soon they were both happily merry, exchanging brutal insults as was their norm. For once, the target wasn’t each other.
If Geralt ever returned to them, he really should watch his back. The bard wasn’t as spineless as Yennefer had first thought, and she would enjoy seeing the idiot take the witcher down a peg or three.
“Look,” Jaskier cried, stumbling around the room with a wine bottle in hand as Yennefer lounged on his bed. “I won’t forgive him easily, but gods, he’s fucking pretty. Maybe- maybe I can at least suck his cock just once before I get angry?”
Yennefer snorted. “Don’t waste your breath on him, bard.”
“But- but Yen,” Jaskier whined, collapsing onto the bed next to her.
And… oh.
They were cuddling. Maybe Jaskier was drunk than she thought, and he had curled up into her side like an affectionate cat. It wasn’t… unpleasant. In fact, she rather enjoyed his company. It had been too long since anyone had treated her with kindness. So tentatively she wrapped an arm around his shoulder, cracking open the door to this new friendship. Gods only knew how much they both needed a friend after the hardships of the last few months.