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Jaskier wheezes with effort as he takes the last turn on the staircase of the devil. His thighs ache, his lungs protest loudly, and he swears he sees black dots. This will be his end, he swears, he will die here, and Milena Roggeven will be responsible for his demise! Or, if Jaskier survives, he's going to murder Milena Roggeven. One of those two things are bound to happen.
How could she be so cruel to collect a debt right now, as the lift in her seventeen-story building is under maintenance?! Sure, the last time Jaskier has asked for help, Milena didn't even hesitate to jump to his aid, and she has hidden Jaskier very well. She has given him a home for a few weeks, until Valdo eventually gave up on his annual hunt for him. She has cleverly confiscated Jaskier's phone so he couldn't crack under the pressure of the constant love-bombing of his terrible ex, and Milena even put on a little show and pretended to be his girlfriend when they accidentally ran into Valdo at a nearby coffee shop some days later.
Jaskier only asked for a few hundred crowns so he could buy a train ticket out of the city until Valdo gets bored enough and leaves, but Milena instead put her foot down and stood beside Jaskier with her whole being and stubborn will, and didn't let him be chased away by the threat of many wrong decisions from long ago.
She is a sweetheart.
She’s the devil herself, Jaskier groans as he gasps for air and looks up at the next flight of stairs. The last one.
Jaskier was more grateful for that than he could even manage to put it into words. He composed her songs for her courage, offered to name his guitar after her, and still he feels he owes Milena his right arm, and his firstborn son, and maybe even the number of the Sexy Construction Expert with the white hair, clever hands and brilliant expertise to help Milena fix up her shitty little flat. Except Jaskier still hoards the knowledge of Sexy’s existence like a dragon would gold, and he still finds excuse after excuse to reach out to him. (He starts to run out of ideas to wreck his water heating system, but that’s beside the point.)
So yeah, in the grand scheme of things, probably it's not such a great task Jaskier has to do for her now. Milena has only asked for a good few blueberry muffins and pancakes with poached eggs and fried bacon on the side from the all-day breakfast place down the street. Jaskier can only imagine that the out-of-order sign on every door of the lift that’s glaring into Jaskier’s soul and mocks him, might have a hand in Milena’s suddenly found laziness.
And Jaskier can understand having a day when one would want to stay inside, even if it’s on a fine summer day like this one. He can sympathize with Milena wanting to hide away from the world for once in her lifetime, even if hiding means her shitty little studio apartment on the top of the seventeen-story concrete monstrosity in the middle of the city. For that reason only, Jaskier even threw in a good handful of fresh fruits because he's such a good and considerate friend, and Milena's request was so simple and sweet. He also bought freshly squeezed orange juice and even nicely ground coffee from that fancy place Milena frequents whenever her commissions make her enough money to treat herself.
Oh, the woes of the reality of living situations in a major city right after you have been disinherited by your own powerful and very rich family… Again, Jaskier can deeply understand and empathise with Milena.
But...
Seventeen stories! Which one of those sadistic pricks has decided to build buildings so tall? Which one of those forgettable, uninspiring dull fools would put actual residential flats on the highest floor? And by Melitele’s bosom, which one of them decided to install only one lift, that’s bound to be down for maintenance at least once a month - and may the gods helps those poor souls who want to try doing anything on days when the lift is actually out of service for who knows how long!
Jaskier would like to have a few selected words with those fuckers right now!
(Can Sexy fix lifts? Can he come to a random concrete building in the middle of the city on a call, fix whatever’s broken so Jaskier wouldn’t have to climb the last set of stairs? Or even better, can Sexy take Jaskier in his big, strong arms and carry him up all the rest of the way? Probably not, but Jaskier is anything if not prone to daydreaming.)
And why, oh, pray tell, why did Milena ask for collecting her IOU on a morning like this? How could the darling girl be so cruel?
Jaskier takes a few deep gulps of air, and leans over the railings. He gingerly holds the paper bag filled with Milena's bounty with one hand, and nurses his stinging side with the other. Then, as soon as Jaskier gets his breathing under his control, he takes the last flight of stairs with the sort of stubborn force he could wield as a weapon back in university to pass all his classes with flying colours and surpass even Valdo Fucking Marx with his masterwork of a song.
He takes a moment to rest and wipe his forehead clean of sweat, before he knocks on the door. The key turns in the lock, as if Milena was listening for movement, and like she has been waiting with bated breath for Jaskier’s arrival ever since she sent that frantic text message. Jaskier is ready to greet her with his most impressive scowl of displeasure, invite himself inside for a friendly breakfast and not leave again until somebody - anybody, really - fixes that seven damned lift, when-
Milena only creaks the door open wide enough so she can expectantly reach out with her hand. Jaskier stares at Milena’s forearm, and nothing else, and he traces the fine embroidery of the sleeve of her house robe for a good few moments in dumbfounded silence.
“Jaskier, thank you,” Milena says hushed and weirdly rushed, and she makes grabby motions blindly for him. “Are you free later today?” Milena adds softly as an afterthought. “We could have lunch together.”
Does she… does she expect Jaskier to simply hand over her breakfast and fuck off after he has climbed the stairs of doom?! Oh, fuck no!
“Milena, my sweetest, most evil friend,” Jaskier says with a flourish, and pushes the door open enough so he can invite himself inside. “For a single moment I almost thought you wanted to enjoy breakfast all alone after the tremendous trouble I went through to climb this tower of concrete hell of yours! Oh! Oh! There’s a song in that, don’t you think? The maiden high in the tower, lay on her bed forlorn, / All hope had fled her beautiful eyes…”
“Jaskier, you need to leave, right now,” Milena hisses with a low voice and now that Jaskier looks at her, he sees that she’s uncharacteristically dishevelled, and her cheeks are bright red even in the dim light of the well-curtained studio apartment.
Milena wears her bright red house robe and the embroidery along her wide sleeves are beautiful and detailed as only her best works ever are. She keeps her voice down, and there’s a faint, familiar hollow, seething sound coming from somewhere that Jaskier can’t quiet put anywhere. Perhaps Jaskier’s mind is still whirling after climbing so many stairs.
“What, darling? Would you forsake your dearest, most treasured friend and inhale all this feast I paid for with my blood, tears and sweat? Well, mostly sweat. Did you know that your lift is broken, Milena? Do you see that I still managed to get you your breakfast? Now, after such heroic deeds, I can’t let you have all this all alone.”
“Jaskier-”
“It’s fortunate, that she’s not going to have breakfast alone then, eh?” A voice calls from the corner where Milena’s bed-nook is set up in the studio.
There’s no such thing as walls and doors in a place like this, except to the bathroom, and the pleasantly lilting accent draws Jaskier’s eyes instantly over to Milena’s bed. It’s as dishevelled as Milena looks, and coincidentally, just as ruined as the very fine man luxuriating between the white sheets. Jaskier sees curly, messy dark hair and a devilishly handsome beard, a lazy grin that looks rather cat-like and glinting green eyes. And skin. Beautiful, bronze skin of his long, long leg as he’s tangled in the sheets and does not make any attempts at all to get up or untangle himself.
“‘Tis your friend, Kitten?” The man purrs and grins up at Jaskier right as he shamelessly snuggles the closest pillow.
“Jaskier is very dear to me, yes,” Milena says with a deep sigh and a pointed look at Jaskier. “And he’s leaving.”
Oh.
Oh!
The darling girl, prim and proper Milena Roggeven who’s blushing even as she disrobes to her bathing suite at the local swim hall… she’s having fun! She’s having fun with a fine, pretty man, most probably a stranger, and oh gods! Jaskier’s going to have a field day of this!
First, and foremost, good for her! Milena deserves a good lay and one-night-stands galore with phenomenal anonymous sex if that's what she wants. Jaskier won't ever judge her for that. But he deserves a good bit of juicy teasing after all the trouble he went through!
“So I suddenly have to go and feed my plants and water my cat, you know how it is,” Jaskier prattles with a wide, smug grin. “You said lunch, darling? How marvellous, we shall have lunch together! There’s this new shawarma place near my place, and you can tell me all about the fun you just had in your place right there at that new place.”
“Jaskier,” Milena squeals mortified and even the tips of her ears are visibly burning in the dimness.
“Unless, of course, if you want to invite me to your fabulous breakfast scene. I’m not embellishing when I say there is enough food in here for three famished people. I know a few activities that can make someone peculiarly peckish, and perhaps you can introduce me to your reason why you need so much carbs on this fine Sunday morning.”
“I sure fucking hope so,” comes another, a bit rougher voice from the bathroom door now, “that there’s enough for three in there. I could eat a fucking horse.”
The hollow seething of the distant, constant noise is now quiet, Jaskier realises, and perhaps he’s slow to recognise that it was the shower because he has just climbed seventeen stories to bring breakfast to an apparently very adventurous Milena. As he turns around, he sees another man. He stands in the only doorway, the one that opens to the small bathroom, and Jaskier needs to look very respectfully at his pale skin wonderfully flushed from the heat of the shower, his sea of freckles that shows even in the dim light seeping through the curtains, and his bright, flaming locks of shoulder-length hair.
The man is tall and brawny, and he’s leaning against the door frame with his strong looking arms crossed before his wide chest, and a grey towel twisted enticingly around his hips. He looks a little flustered, and a lot smug.
If Jaskier wouldn’t be helplessly in love with Sexy Construction Expert, and he wouldn’t respect Milena even half as much as he does, he would drool over the beautiful set of men on display in front of him. One bright and fiery with a dark frown and broad shoulders, the other slender and pretty, sweetly curling around the sheets as he snickers quietly and winks up at him from the bed.
“Oh, you have great taste,” Jaskier whistles low under his breath. “So, how about a very, very late lunch, darling? Take all the time you need,” he says, and blindly pats Milena on the shoulder. “I hope you’ll need it.”
The redhead grins like a wolf, and the bronze-skinned beauty in the bed makes a noise that almost sounds like a lazy purr of affection… or amusement.
“I see myself out,” Jaskier chuckles and bows with a flourish like a bard from the middle-ages would bow for his thoroughly entertained crowd.
Milena’s face is bright red, but she looks up at Jaskier from below her lashes with a little smile and shy, tiny shrug. She looks very happy with her life right now, even if her shitty building lacks a lift, and even if Jaskier has just mindlessly budged into the aftermath of her wonderful-looking threesome.
Jaskier still chuckles as he gently pulls Milena’s door in behind himself. He almost misses the purring, lilting accent of the pretty man from the bed.
“I like him.”
“Course you do,” comes from the brawny redhead, and Jaskier can hear him rolling his eyes. “He brought breakfast in bed to you.”