#is his relationship with Wade platonic or romantic? I'll leave that up to you | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

casualfruit · 2 months ago

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Whoops, I kept writing until 2am

Uhhhhh anyway here's that Fast Car ficlet I promised @casscainsbiceps

Logan shouldn’t be driving. Sure, he could drink any human and a lot of mutants under the table, but tonight was intense even for him.

He’d managed to buy a used car a few weeks earlier, and since then he’d mostly taken it to a bar that was far enough outside the city that Wade wasn’t likely to find him there. He’d told himself that he was weaning off the bottle, slowly decreasing his alcohol intake until he could function without it. It was a lie, of course; any fool could see that. Didn’t stop him from trying, though.

Then she walked in and ruined everything.

He didn’t know her, and she didn’t know him. But her flowing red hair had tricked him, stopped his heart right in his chest and turned his blood to ice.

“Jean?” he’d said. She didn’t respond. That alone should have told him to drop it, but instead, like a complete idiot, he’d reached out and grabbed her arm.

“Jean?” he repeated. “Jean, is that y—”

She whipped around, startled and confused and definitely not Jean Grey.

“Sorry,” he mumbled. “Thought you were someone else.”

Not-Jean yanked her arm away with a look of disgust. Logan turned back to the counter, finished his beer, then flagged down the bartender and ordered three fingers of whiskey. Everything between the moment the glass touched his lips and the moment he jammed his keys into the ignition was a blur.

The road had very few street lights; the moon offered little in the way of visibility. Logan was vaguely aware that he was drifting, but didn’t clock that his foot was pressing down on the gas harder than he meant to. That realization came when he went straight through a bend in the road and rammed into a tree at almost a hundred miles per hour.

He sat there, unmoving, waiting for his brain to catch up and his heart to slow down. With shaking hands he put the car in reverse and tried to back out, but to no avail. He hadn’t even owned the thing for a full month before destroying it. He ripped out the steering wheel and flung it through the shattered windshield.

God. Fucking. Damnit.

He should call one of those not-quite-taxi cars—Uberlift, or whatever they were called. He always had trouble remembering the names of things in this universe. But first, he should definitely call a tow truck.

A dull throbbing pain was building up behind his eyes as he pulled a piece of glass out of his forehead. Maybe he should just get Wade to pick him up instead.

No. Fuck no. Absolutely not. He might be the Worst Wolverine, but he still had a shred of pride. He’d go on foot once he could walk in a straight line. In the meanwhile, he would just sit in the wreckage of his car and listen to the radio while he sobered up. Assuming it still worked—which, miraculously, it did.

He must’ve hit the dashboard when he crashed, because the radio wasn’t set to his usual station. Instead of the pounding drums and harsh metal vocals he was used to, he was greeted by something else entirely.

“You got a fast car,” came a soft voice, “I want a ticket to anywhere.”

He reached for the radio dial, then paused. The warm bass notes melted like honey over the drums, gently flowing through the vocals and lead guitar. This wasn’t so bad. He sat back and closed his eyes. The singer continued on, telling a story about joining up with someone to escape a life she didn’t want—small, poor, static. He’d heard this story plenty of times before, but something about this version was different. It was captivating in a strange, solemn way.

He was actually starting to enjoy this.

Then the fourth stanza began.

“You see my old man’s got a problem. He lives with the bottle, that’s the way it is.”

Logan’s stomach twisted. This was not the kind of story he wanted to hear.

“He says his body’s too old for working. His body’s too young to look like his.”

How many more decades would it take for Logan’s body to look his age? He’d lived two hundred years, but he still looked fifty. Nothing about him had changed. Not his body, not his habits, not his self loathing.

“My mama went off and left him

She wanted more from life than he could give

I said, somebody's got to take care of him

So I quit school and that's what I did.”

Images of the woman from the bar flashed in his mind, but this time she had Jean’s face. What would the real Jean think, seeing him like that? He’d always been a drunk, but at least before he’d been a person. The only thing sitting in this car was an empty husk that reeked of booze.

“You got a fast car. Is it fast enough so we can fly away?” the singer asked. “We gotta make a decision: leave tonight or live and die this way.”

How many times had his family tried to tell him the same thing—and how many times had he ignored them until they gave up? It wasn’t just the reprimanding he’d hated; it was the genuine concern, the pity, that got under his skin. He hated being pitied more than anything else. At least, that’s what he had thought.

Suddenly the drums kicked up, drowning out his thoughts.

“So I remember we were driving, driving in your car

Speed so fast, I felt like I was drunk

City lights lay out before us

And your arm felt nice wrapped 'round my shoulder

And I-I, had a feeling that I belonged

I-I had a feeling I could be someone, be someone, be someone…”

God, it was so hopeful it hurt. Logan couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt that kind of freedom. Maybe he never had. There was something else in the singer’s voice, something he couldn’t quite identify. It floated in the space between longing and giving up. It made his chest feel tight.

“I know things will get better

You'll find work and I'll get promoted

We'll move out of the shelter

Buy a bigger house and live in the suburbs.”

“Life ain’t like that, sweetheart,” he sneered. “It’s just one disappointment after the next.” Yet somehow, in spite of himself, he actually did feel some hope for the narrator. Her life didn’t have to go to shit the way his did. Maybe she still had a chance.

The chorus came back, but something about it felt different, even though it was the exact same as before. Like the narrator’s dreams were being tempered—or tamped down—by reality. His eyes began to burn.

“You got a fast car

I got a job that pays all our bills

You stay out drinking late at the bar

See more of your friends than you do of your kids.”

Resignation. That was the feeling. Tears began to slip out, one by one, leaving wet tracks down his face. If this girl couldn’t make it, what chance did he have?

“I'd always hoped for better

Thought maybe together you and me would find it

I got no plans, I ain't going nowhere

So take your fast car and keep on driving.”

It was too much. He couldn’t breathe. Guilt was crushing his rib cage and flattening his lungs. After several excruciating seconds he managed to suck in a breath, only for it to come out as a gasping, heaving sob. Decades of grief poured out from him, burning his throat and eyes and skin.

That was it. The dam had broken. Sobs turned into wails; wails faded into whimpers.

The chorus returned again, but now the sweet naivete of youth had turned as bitter as whiskey. There were no happy times to look forward to. The narrator had tried to take a different path, but it led her right back to the same dead end. As for Logan, all he’d found was that the bottom of a bottle tasted the same in this universe as it did in his own.

He leaned forward and rested his head on the dashboard. It took a few deep breaths, but he managed to calm down just enough to hear the final lines of the song.

“You got a fast car. Is it fast enough so you can fly away?”

Please, God, make it stop.

“You gotta make a decision: leave tonight or live and die this way.”

And just like that, it was over.

Logan barely had time to process anything before the radio let out a horrendously loud record scratch, reminding all listeners that they were tuning into a station that made its money from advertisements. He skewered the radio with his claws before the DJ could get a word out.

It had been a long time since anything had torn him apart like that. He was an open wound; bleeding and vulnerable. Wasn’t alcohol supposed to help wounds?

“Not these ones,” he muttered. “Gotta let ‘em dry out.”

He was so tired. Tired of drinking. Tired of crying. Tired of hating himself. He just wanted to fall asleep and wake up as a completely different person, unburdened by his past. Barring that, he wanted to go lie down somewhere that wasn’t the wreckage of a junky old car.

Without any conscious thought, Logan’s hand pulled his phone out of his pocket and began dialing Wade’s number. His mouth, now fully disconnected from his brain, started fumbling through the lyrics of that song. Be someone, be someone, be someone…

He’d have to look it up and listen to it again.

This time he’d hear it sober.

#Wolverine #Logan Howlett #Deadpool and Wolverine #angst #Fast Car #my writing #casual convo #I hope you like this #it took several hours to write #is his relationship with Wade platonic or romantic? I'll leave that up to you #I considered adding some Wade/Logan dialogue at the end #make them have a bit of a heart to heart #but Wade is too unserious and the tonal whiplash did not work at all #so I left it here instead

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sometimesiwrite · 3 years ago

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The Way It Is

Prompt: Fake Dating

Pairing: Lambert & Essi Other Characters: Julian (Jaskier), Eskel/Geralt

Rating: Teen Content Warnings: No Archive Warnings; platonic/queerplatonic dynamics; pressure to engage sexually; coarse language; alcohol/intoxication; modern AU.

Summary: When Essi and Lambert are setup on a blind date, they don’t expect to get along as well as they do. However, when they decide to keep their relationship platonic and non-romantic, they realize they might face some uncomfortable pressure. For the sake of simplicity, they decide to tell people they’re dating, but is it sustainable?

@witcher-rarepair-summer-bingo

Essi fidgeted with the bent corner of her cafe menu, looking around at the various styles of local artworks hanging on the walls. She was early by about ten minutes, but that didn’t stop her from checking the pearlescent dial of her watch every thirty seconds. Finally, the bell above the door tinkled and a man walked in. Essi could tell from the way he was looking around that he was there to meet someone—her. The only other people sitting alone in the cafe were working on laptops and tablets; no one else waiting for a date. And this man was most certainly looking for one.

He was handsome in a ruffled sort of way, though he’d clearly put in a bit of effort. His black casual dress shirt and slim light-wash jeans fit his lean frame impeccably, and a subtle quantity of mousse was clearly doing its best to tame his short, scruffy brown hair. Even his bristly beard appeared to have been trimmed recently. Though there was nothing particularly remarkable about his clothing, there was something striking about the way he carried himself, a devil-may-care sort of presence that Essi appreciated. For a blind date, she thought, it certainly could be worse. Allegedly, they knew each other, at least based on his abruptly out-of-the-blue text, and the closer she looked, the more her memory of him crystalized.

A loud ping! emitted from Essi’s phone and the man looked up from his own cellular device, clearly having just texted.

“Uh, Essi? Essi Daven, right?” He took a step towards her and leaned in, pointing to his phone screen.

“Yes,” Essi stood to shake his hand, “hi.”

“Nice to see you again. Lambert.”

They sat down awkwardly, both struggling to find the will for smalltalk.

“So…” Lambert had become keenly interested in a black-and-white digital photograph behind Essi’s shoulder.

“Listen,” Essi could feel the words start to tumble out of her mouth, and it was too late to do anything about it. Lambert raised an eyebrow, “I don’t really know how to say this, so I’m just going to be honest and probably regret it later: I don’t really do this. Dating. I find it strange and uncomfortable and if I’m perfectly honest I think I’d rather die.” She didn’t cringe apologetically, which would have been the expected behaviour to accompany an outpouring of disinterest. Instead she stared at him, wide-eyed, lips slightly pursed as a muscle in her neck twitched, waiting for his response.

Lambert laughed. Genuinely laughed—a joyful release of tension and dread, “Oh, thank Fuck!” Essi blinked in pleasant surprise and watched as Lambert began to relax.

“Excuse me?” Her startlingly blue eyes widened in amusement.

“No, no, I just mean—I would absolutely and one-hundred percent, without a doubt, rather die in a hole than date,” Lambert slotted the edge of the menu under his fingernails and let his eyes wander a little more freely around the cafe.

“So then… why?”

Hm. Direct, frank, amusing lack of filter… the memories were starting to come back from what limited, heavily inebriated, time they’d spent together.

There was something about the straightforwardness of this endearingly odd woman that made Lambert feel infinitely more comfortable. Usually, any kind of interaction with the potential of building mutual interest made him feel like he was playing a game he didn’t know the rules to. The signals, the code words that never meant what they said: having sex on the first date means you’re a slut; not having sex on the third date means you’re a prude; grabbing coffee means this; having dinner means that; if they your arm but don’t invite you up, it means that they’re actually a KGB operative and need to give you the launch codes for a super secret missile...

Fuck that, we have words for a reason. Say what you mean and don’t waste my time. For that reason alone, Essi was already scoring quite well in Lambert’s books.

He shrugged, “You somehow remembered me from the KM Christmas party almost six months ago, and still asked for my number. I figure that at least deserves a coffee and a conversation.”

Essi was bewildered, “I didn’t ask for your number, you texted me.”

Lambert shook his head, “Impossible. No offense, but I absolutely guarantee you I did not.” He produced their short text exchange and scrolled to the top of their conversation:

Hi, is this Lambert? From the KM Christmas party?

You might not remember me, we got talking about

the political situation in Kashmir after about…

Too many drinks. Eeep!

Anyway, I’d love to get a coffee sometime, if

you’re interested.

Sorry, this is Essi Daven.

You called me Goldilocks at one point and

seemed amused XD

Hope you’re well!

Essi snatched Lambert’s phone, shocked and slightly outraged as she reached for her own device, opening her thread with Lambert. The text at the top was not from her, but from the man across from her:

Yeah, hi, this is

Lambert-from-the-KM-Christmas-party.

As it happens, I remember you and our

conversation quite well. Not many folks

happily get into drunken political discussions

You know what, I wouldn’t mind grabbing a

coffee.

Let me know if you’re free in the next couple

weeks!

Lambert gestured emphatically at Essi’s phone screen, “In what world is this an acceptable way to ask someone out?! I wouldn’t have said yes to that!”

“I don’t know,” Essi fired back, “It was straightforward! I found it charming, okay? Is that a crime?”

“No, but I have some serious concerns about your taste in men.”

“Like you’re in such a fine position to judge after the hollow, paltry invitation you accepted—which I absolutely did not write, by the way. I want to make that perfectly clear.”

“Alright, alright, cool your jets, we’ve got bigger fish to fry.” Lambert narrowed his eyes as he passed Essi’s phone back to her, “You didn't fire the first shot, so who texted me from your phone and cleared the history?”

Essi nibbled the inside of her cheek, “I can think of a few.”

“Okay, next question,” Lambert pocketed his phone, “who added you to my contacts before you texted. Because we did not exchange numbers six months ago, but your name was already there when I received it.”

Essi shrugged, “Who has access to your phone?”

“I dunno. Really just Eskel and Geralt and neither of them would—”

“Geralt.”

“Why him?”

Essi’s bright blue eyes turned steely and murderous, “Julian… They’re working together.”

“Wait, wait, wait. Are you telling me that Geralt the-last-thing-I-need Rivia and Julian Alfred these-aren't-my-pants Pankratz think we're so helplessly undateable that they decided to secretly set us up?”

“Eskel doesn’t know me that well; he wouldn’t try to set you up with someone he hadn’t vetted. Who did you talk to first when you got that text from me?”

Lambert’s eyes widened, “Holy shit, they’re working together.”

Essi nodded, a flood of embarrassment warming her cheeks. “Sorry to waste your time. You’re very nice but, um, I should just…” she got up to leave.

“Wh-hey, hold up. I mean, if you wanna go, go, that's fine, but there's something you might want to know first.”

Essi tossed her yellow bangs out of her eyes, “Oh? What's that?”

“This,” Lambert produced an Amex credit card from his breast pocket, “is Geralt's.” The cheeky glint in his eyes was a very convincing argument.

“Fine then. Coffee and a conversation.”

The coffee was hot and decent, and the conversation meandered through the usual topics of music, movies, and television, but also dipped into deeper waters as they grew more comfortable with each other’s company. Of course, it didn’t hurt that neither of them had any stakes in the outcome of this “date”. It made it easier to be frank and open, which in turn led to them quickly enjoying their time together. So much so that coffee turned into lunch, which turned into a long walk in the pleasant weather, which finally landed them outside Essi’s apartment, just around dinner time.

“I have to say, this was actually a pleasant encounter,” she said, turning to face him with a characteristic toss of her bangs.

“Yeah, who’d’ve thought two people forced together by meddling friends would actually find it enjoyable?”

“In light of that,” Essi squared her shoulders and found Lambert’s hazel-brown eyes, “I think it’s fair to say I want to see you again.”

He cringed regretfully and scratched the back of his head, “Ahh, yeah, so… I don’t know if that’s really--”

“Oh, relax,” Essi smirked with a casual touch to Lambert’s forearm. “I don't mean like that. I just mean--you're interesting and fun and, well I don't have many close friends and I feel like we connected well today.”

“Well…”

“I'll make it even simpler: I absolutely, one-hundred percent, am not interested in dating you.”

“Easy there, you know I love it when people get all straightforward with me.”

“I mean it, I just want to be friends,” she toyed back, trying her best to look sultry. It kind of worked.

Lambert bit his lower lip in mock arousal, “Mmm, oh yeah...”

She swayed her shoulders forward and back, doing her best to emulate the seductive actresses and models of the 1950s, “I want to Netflix and chill with a documentary about Soviet propaganda.”

Her last comment prompted a playfully stern look from her companion, “Careful now, you’re wading into actual turn-on territory.”

“You're such a weirdo,” Essi chuckled, giving him an endeared shove. “Seriously, though, would you like to do this again? Friends?”

He nodded sincerely, “Yeah, I think I'd really like that. Just one problem, though.”

“If we claim not to be interested in each other but keep hanging out we’ll never hear the end of it?”

“Bingo.”

Essi hummed thoughtfully and nibbled the inside of her bottom lip, “Well… we could always… pretend?”

***

“Sounds like you two are hitting it off. I’m glad. I know Essi’s been feeling a little isolated between work and being new to the city.” Geralt closed the fridge with his foot and headed towards the sofa, popcorn in one hand, three beers in the other. “I’ll take my card back, by the way.”

Lambert reluctantly handed the Amex back in exchange for a beer and perched on the arm of the sofa. “She’s really something. We’re, uh—yeah, hitting it off is a good word.”

And hitting it off, they were. The last ten days since their first “date” had been more enjoyable than all the dates he’d had in the last year combined. Essi was a fantastic companion: sharp, witty, kind, took no bullshit… They had done absolutely nothing but hang out, and no one had pried them for many details about the nature of their relationship. As far as their friend group was concerned, they were simply dating in the way that most adults dated. This also meant more time to themselves without unwanted interruptions (namely Julian barging in with his spare key to gossip about whatever fires were currently alight on twitter). The first night Lambert had been over, it took Julian all of five minutes to “grab something from the fridge” before parting with a knowing wink.

To her credit and imagination, Essi had expertly fielded her cousin’s initial barrage of questions when she first announced their “involvement.” It wasn’t that she didn’t like her cousin, Essi adored Julian, but she was also the first to admit that the man had no boundaries. What he lacked in that arena, he certainly made up for with opinions, which he was always more than happy to bestow on his younger cousin—usually dating advice, almost always unsolicited. Lambert had a much easier time convincing his side that he and Essi were taking it easy to see where things went. Between Eskel being a consummate gentleman and Geralt having his own Delicate Sensibilities, neither of them had demanded any details.

“As long as you’re both happy and everything’s healthy, that’s all that matters,” Geralt’s partner reiterated, reaching into the bowl on Geralt’s lap.

“Jesus, Eskel, you sound like my Nonna.”

“That's no way to talk to your father,” Geralt smirked into his hand of popcorn

“You're no better,” Lambert took a swig from his beer, lips popping as he lowered the bottle. “I swear, you've turned into a couple of mother hens since you two got together. Quit fussing and watch the game.”

Geralt put his arm around Eskel’s shoulders, “We have gotten a little soft haven’t we?”

Eskel huffed out a laugh, “Probably. Hey, Lambert, don't fuck it up or I'll kick your ass into next week.”

“Thank you. See? Was that so hard?”

“Eh,” Eskel shrugged, helping himself to another handful of popcorn, “I stand by my original statement. Geralt agrees.”

“It's true,” he said between mouthfuls. “Essi’s a good woman. Smart, talented, kind, attractive.”

Eskel cleared his throat.

“Eskel, she is, it's just a statement of fact it doesn't mean that she doesn’t have other…”

“I know it doesn't but I still think you could bear to be a little more…”

“Funny thing,” Lambert interrupted, “I still can’t figure out how this smart, talented, kind, attractive woman’s number programmed itself into my phone. Because I may have been drunk the night we first met, but I have never in my life forgotten a successful number grab. Fess up, fellas. Who was it?”

Eskel’s eyes widened, “Geralt, you didn’t.”

“I… may have… helped Julian gain access to Lambert’s phone.”

“Unbelievable. The betrayal,” Lambert shook his head, eyes still on the game. “If only there was some way to square things up…”

“You charged everything to my company card, didn’t you?”

“First two dates and a fresh pair of pants. Thanks, bud.” Geralt accepted a pat on the back as Eskel began gently but sternly berating him.

Lambert shook his head, smirking as he took another swig of beer, leaving the two lovebirds to bicker amongst themselves. His hip pocket buzzed and he checked his phone: Essi.

Next Wednesday? Pizza and a movie? Still can't believe you haven't seen Ocean’s Eleven.

Yeah, okay, fine. Jeez :P 7:30 my place? I'll provide beverages.

If by ‘beverages’ you mean watery beer…

Fuck off, I'll get the good stuff. Unless you prefer Arbor Mist or some shit.

*gasps* I am offended! (but also it's delicious)

*sigh* do you want me to get you some?

*turtles into hoodie* ...peach or cherry pls?

Haha okay, fine, I'll get a bottle. Can't promise I won't judge you forever, though ;)

It's okay, I deserve it. g2g, see you tomorrow! xox

***

Lambert groaned contentedly, massaging his stomach as he sprawled back on his aging brown sofa, long legs resting habitually on the coffee table. The now-empty pizza box lay abandoned on the far edge, accompanied by four empty beer bottles, and a nearly-empty, unfavourably warm Peach Arbor Mist. The toilet flushed and Essi emerged. Her dark gold hair had long ago been pulled into a messy bun, but her indigo skinny jeans had been replaced by soft-looking grey leggings.

Lambert shook his head in amusement as she settled back next to him on the couch, "I still can't believe you brought your own lounge pants"

"That's because I'm a genius," she quipped, crossing her legs and adjusting the height of her waistband. "Besides, when else will I have the opportunity to actually be comfortable during a date?"

"You took your bra off, too, didn't you?" Lambert asked without missing a beat, eyes never leaving the screen.

"Yup!" Essi confirmed, her sparkling blue eyes glinting with joy as she raised her glass to her lips.

The movie continued as the new friends settled into comfortable silence, their food-drowsy, alcohol-fuzzy states lulling them into a new level of comfortability around each other. Legs fell asleep, positions were adjusted, and shoulders leaned on as the two sought maximum comfort for minimum effort. Soon, an arm was around Essi's shoulder as she settled her cheek on a comfortable spot on Lambert's chest.

"You good?" Lambert asked, only half-irritated at her seemingly endless search for the perfect angle.

"I'm sorry, I thought I'd found a good spot, but..." A few more adjustments of her head and Lambert couldn't take it anymore.

"Jesus, woman, here. Get up for a sec."

Essi sat up as Lambert rearranged himself into a sort of semi-recline with one foot on the floor so his other leg could make room for the tiny pain-in-the-ass that was taking up the rest of the couch space. At his invitation, she wriggled up to the crook of his arm and quickly settled in. Lambert hadn't really thought about what they were doing. Not when Essi had harmlessly leaned against his arm; not when their weight settled into each other; not when Lambert had put his arm around her; not even as he was rearranging to get to where they were now. It had all just... happened. Now, though, with Essi lying still, Lambert felt the weight and warmth of her body shifting gently against his, and it dawned on him that this had the potential to be, well, weird.

But the strange thing was, it didn't feel weird. He'd fucking cuddled before, but there was always a sense of holding back, a tension in his body, being on the lookout for signals from the other person to move onto the Next Step. But now, he actually felt comfortable. There wasn't anything that was supposed to happen after this. Nobody was asking anything of him, no one sending signals he could pick up on but never read properly, no sinking feelings of dread as the other person moved in for a kiss that always felt too soon. Essi was just there, breathing, content. And Lambert was relaxed.

The woman half-on top of him gave a twitch as the credits started to roll, and Lambert let out a private laugh, "Hey, Sleeping Beauty, show's over."

Essi inhaled heavily through her nose and lifted herself up, "Hmmm?"

"Movie's over."

"Did I fall asleep? I'm sorry!" she sat and rubbed her eyes, taking a sip of water to rinse the stale taste from her mouth.

"Eh, only a little." Lambert exited Netflix and tossed the remote back on to the table. "Thought you might wanna start heading home before it gets too late."

Essi nodded in response as she grabbed the pizza box and brought it to the kitchen trash, leaving Lambert to bring the empties.

"You going to finish this atrocity of a beverage?" Lambert waggled the near-empty wine bottle at Essi as he passed on his way to the sink. She merely scowled and shook her head, letting him pour it down the drain 'where it belonged anyway'.

Essi gathered her things and met Lambert by his front door, checking her pockets for her phone and keys one last time before putting her shoes on.

"You okay to walk? Want me to come with?"

It was only 10:30 on a weeknight, and she appreciated the gesture all the same, but it was fine to walk. "Thanks, though. And thank you for tonight. I really needed to get out of the house. I hope, um..."

She trailed off, not sure how to ask. She didn't have the same physical boundaries that most others seemed to have. She was affectionate—often overly so, and it had led to more than a few misunderstandings in the past. She didn't want Lambert to feel as though she had ulterior motives when the simple fact of the matter was that she hadn't really been thinking. Between the instant relief of not actually being on a date and Lambert's easy manner all evening, she'd forgotten that most friendships didn’t generally involve that much physical contact. Would Lambert be confused now? Thinking they were onto something more than friendship? Had he been wanting more? Had she pushed past a point of no return and doomed their friendship?

She inhaled, "Were you comfortable tonight?"

For a split second, Lambert flailed, wondering whether he’d made her uncomfortable. Fuck, she'd seemed comfortable, if anything it felt like he’d been following her lead but maybe...

"I—yeah. That was, I enjoyed that. Were... were you not—?"

Essi smiled and Lambert relaxed again, "No, I was. I wanted to ask in case, that's all. Boundaries and all that. I'll text you when I'm home."

Lambert opened the door and waved her off toward the elevator, "'Kay. 'Night!"

The door clicked shut.

Okay, alright. Fine. Did they cuddle? Yes. Did he enjoy it? Fuck yes. He absolutely didn’t care what anyone might think about how he chose to enjoy his time with other people. However, this didn’t stop him from acknowledging that he was in uncharted friendship territory. More than anything, he was worried about how Essi really felt. Of course, she had no reason not to be honest with him. But the last thing he wanted to do was play fast and loose with someone’s emotions, especially not a friend, and definitely not one as close as Essi. Time would tell. As Lambert’s head hit the pillow, the memory of her warmth and weight settled over him again, and he slept soundly for the first time in months.

***

“Yes Poppet, but have you slept together yet? Honestly, you’ve been dating for almost three weeks now, what could you possibly be waiting for?”

Oh, I don’t know, hell to freeze over? You to mind your own business? Whichever comes first…

“I mean, you clearly adore one another, I’ve never seen you happier. What’s there to lose?’”

Essi scoffed.

Julian placed his hands on her shoulders, “I know it’s been a while for you, but I think you can afford to let yourself go a little, have some fun, hm? Besides, it’s better to find out sooner rather than later if you’re sexually incompatible.”

She took a deep breath, “That’s a very good point, Julian, I’ll think about that.” The dating act was starting to wear a little thin, but it was worth not having to explain to anyone that they weren’t doing exactly what it looked like they were doing.

Julian took time to give his cousin a scrutinizing look, “Well, by the look of things it won’t be long anyway. If you spend all of your time together as tangled up as you were the other night when I came over, it’ll happen sooner rather than later. Just trust your gut, and when in doubt, a little hint never goes awry.”

Needless to say, Essi more or less ignored her cousin’s advice.

As the weeks stretched on, it became evident that they were quickly becoming what most people would consider to be more than friends. The first time they pulled the covers back and climbed into bed, each on their half of the mattress, they were aware that yet another boundary of friendship had been pushed a little farther into the grey zone. But, they woke up the next morning feeling happy, content, and refreshed, and surely there was nothing wrong with two people sharing a comfortable bed. Essi had woken up with crust in her eyes and her nightgown bunched around her waist. Lambert had woken up with morning wood and his hair a mess. Neither of them cared. People wake up in the morning, big deal.

Still, it didn’t stop the questioning that oscillated in the background of Lambert’s mind. Was he unknowingly leading Essi on by allowing her so much closeness without a clearly defined relationship? She’d made her own disinterest clear enough on their first “date”, but feelings change over time. What she’d told him three weeks ago might not be true anymore…

And then there was that soft warm tingle in the middle of his chest every time she lay her head in his lap, every time he ran his fingers through her hair. He knew he wasn't in love. Not that he was an expert, but what was all that "when you know, you know" bullshit if he couldn’t trust his own feelings? He loved her, sure, but more like a... not a sister, that would be weird. He didn't know what like. Whatever. Fuck it. Eskel had said it best three weeks ago: “As long as you're happy and everything’s healthy, that’s all that matters.” Yeah, sure. We’ll stick with that.

As far as Lambert and Essi were concerned, it was what it was, and whatever it was was working… wasn’t it?

***

"Fuckin' finally!"

The door to Essi's apartment clicked closed as the tenant wilted against it, emitting an exhausted groan, "Two. Hours. It took me two hours to get home!" She toed off her penny loafers and abandoned her purse and jacket in a pile by the front door, ignoring the hook three inches to her left. She flopped heavily onto her living room carpet.

"I see you found my spare key," she added, not at all surprised that Lambert had managed to let himself in.

"Yeah, you should probably put that in a less obvious spot," he answered, crossing to the door to hang her things up. "So, I see it's a lying on the floor kind of evening. Can I interest you in a drink to start? Vodka pairs well with the general vibe of Done-With-This-Shit, or we also have tequila if you feel like shouting out the window after a couple shots. Alternatively, there's gin if you want to cry later."

Essi smiled with her eyes closed, feeling her body slowly relaxing into the spongy throw rug underneath her, "You know me so well."

"Vodka?"

"Vodka. Euch, I need to vacuum!," Essi peeled herself to a seated position as clinks and clatters began in the kitchen. She hopped in the shower to rinse the day off, and after a few minutes, there was a knock on the bathroom door.

"Yeeees?" she called, playfully.

"Drink delivery!" Lambert hollered back, "you want this now or later?"

"Why are you so good to me?"

There was a draught of cool air as Lambert opened the bathroom door, "Because you only marginally annoy me. Here," he passed his hand between the shower wall and the opaque fish-scale-patterned curtain. "What's on the docket for tonight?"

Essi groaned, "I don't know, I'm sorry. I used all my brain cells trying not to murder people on the streetcar."

"Okay," Lambert sat on the lidded toilet, "here's the thing. I kinda maybe figured that might be the case so I kinda maybe picked up a few things to make dinner."

A shampoo-piled head poked out from behind the curtain, "You're kidding."

"Nuh-uh."

"I love you."

Lambert chuckled, "Yeah, you're alright. Come on, hurry up, this bathroom's a fuckin’ sauna, and I don’t want the croutons to get soggy." Essi burbled an answer about conditioner and almost done, and Lambert took that as his cue to leave.

Dinner was simple: pan fried Salmon with crispy skin (delicate and buttery on the inside); wax beans in butter (tender and not overcooked); grilled brussels sprouts (just beginning to brown on the edges); and a fresh caesar salad. Everything done to perfection. Full, content, and ready to take their relaxation to the next step they settled themselves on Essi’s blue-grey sectional to begin the arduous task of deciding what to watch.

This was proving particularly difficult with the addition of Essi's caveat that whatever they chose not be "too plot-heavy" which so far had included Masterchef, an interior design show, and program about shepherding in the Orkneys.

"Sweetheart, you gotta give me some slack here. I thought I was on track with the sheep!"

"I know, I'm sorry!" Essi muffled into his shirt sleeve. "I do like animals..." She gasped loudly. "BLUE PLANET."

Lambert stopped the endless scrolling and pushed play as the soothing voice of David Attenborough filled the small living room.

"Hey! Why'd you pause it?"

Lambert was standing up, "If we're going to do this, then we're doing it right. Hang on."

Essi slumped on the sofa as the microwave kicked on. In a few minutes, there was popcorn in their laps and half a bottle of vodka on the table with an ice bucket and lemon wedges in a bowl. Lambert read off his phone screen.

"We will take a drink when:

-David says 'Extraordinary' -David uses a clear understatement such as 'But then again, living in an active volcano is not without its risks' -An animal is being eaten -An animal is mating -There is sped up footage of a plant growing."

"Oh no," Essi lamented, chewing her popcorn ungracefully, "I'm going to get so drunk."

"You got it, Goldilocks. Fill up."

And with that, they were off, taking it slow with their vodka twists, but nonetheless feeling the warm buzz start to tingle under their skin. The box of microwave popcorn was empty by halfway through, and the remains of Essi's exhaustion had almost dispersed entirely.

"Ooh! Understatement! Drink!!"

By ten o’clock, pink-cheeked and feeling boisterous, they had finished with their favourite parts of Blue Planet, or at least the ones they had patience for, and had moved on to Planet Earth II.

“Holy fuck, that’s a lot of snakes—Go, you little fucker! Go!”

The drama on the screen had caused the two to separate from one another while Lambert invested himself in the success of the small lizard. Once the baby Galapagos Iguana had made it to safety, they were once again able to recline without Essi risking an elbow to the face.

She bundled against him, scooting farther between his legs where he leaned in the corner of the sectional. He gathered her hair and draped it over her left shoulder so it wouldn't get caught in his buttons—they'd learned that the hard way. It was still damp, cool to the touch, and smelled like verbena sea salt shampoo. He felt a pulse of affection ripple through him as her weight resettled. He loved that feeling. It had taken some time to get used to it. But now it was high on his list of favourite things. He was happy. And it was healthy. And that really was all that mattered.

Right?

Eskel’s words turned themselves around again in his mind as he wrapped his arm around the front of Essi’s shoulders. He let himself indulge in the texture of her cotton knit nightshirt under his fingers. He relished in the peace of mind at being able to just be there with someone who meant something to him and made absolutely no demands. He let himself relax.

Essi felt a kiss land on the top of her head with a playful, "Muwah!"

She giggled quietly, "Thank you!" Then, upon further thought… Did he want to kiss her? Her mind did a double take as she tried to get on top of the ball.

It wasn’t impossible. They were close after all, and she wasn’t opposed to the idea. She’d recently found herself in a balancing act of realizing she could, in theory, have a deeper kind of feeling for Lambert. Only if, for whatever reason, it turned out he felt the same way. These weren’t the helpless uncontrollable feelings of ride-or-die infatuation; they were malleable, translatable, general feelings of affection and fondness that belonged in any number of different relationships and dynamics.

No sense risking it, she thought. They'd found a liminal space of comfort and safety that she'd never experienced with anyone else before, and if the options were between being a little confused and ruining everything, the choice was an easy one. Then again, if Lambert was developing feelings for her, she didn’t want to miss an opportunity. Shit. Her cheeks burned as she felt the question rise closer to her lips.

"Lambert?" she sat up abruptly and turned to her friend who was still moulded into the corner of the couch, watching the mating rituals of exotic birds with bewildered skepticism.

He jolted at Essi’s sudden movement, "Hello, yes."

Her bright blue eyes were now slightly unfocused, "Do you—? Nevermind." She lay back against him, suddenly skittish..

"Mm, nah, try again," he said, sluggishly. "What’s up, buttercup?"

She swayed a little when she sat up, "Are you happy with what we are?"

Lambert blinked, caught slightly off-guard. The question was easy enough to answer, "Yeah! I mean I don’t know what the fuck we are, but I’m feeling pretty good about it. Shit, why? Are you not? I can be less… whatever. Or… more?" It wasn’t like he was repulsed by the idea of anything else happening between them—in theory it was a possibility. In practice, however...

Essi put an emphatic hand on Lambert’s knee, her glassy eyes going wide, "Do you want more?"

"What? No! I dunno, I—maybe. I haven’t really thought about it. I mean…” Lambert searched Essi’s face for any clue that might help him know how to proceed, “I don’t not want anything else. Fuck, I don’t know! I’m used to doing things the other way around. You know the drill: uncomfortable date, smoosh faces together, have sex, hope feelings fall out. Lather-rinse-repeat. I dunno, do we have to… But what if we try something and...? I don’t wanna lose this."

Essi leaned in close and whispered, “I have an idea.”

"Why do I feel like I'm going to regret this?"

"We should kiss."

Lambert nearly swallowed an ice cube, "What?!"

"Just once. Quickly. Just... in case."

"You want me, Lambert, to kiss you, Essi Daven, on the lips."

She nodded sincerely, "For science."

There was a brief pause during which Essi felt the beginnings of panic brewing in her stomach, but by the time she'd finished grappling with potential consequences, Lambert was filling their glasses.

"Alright. Fine. My friend wants me to kiss her for science? Fuck it. I'll drink to that."

They downed their drinks and squared up, knee to knee on the edge of the sofa as they each prepared for their best form—or as good as they could offer given the circumstances. They counted down, 3-2-1...

The kiss was quick, over as soon as it had begun, and both friends pulled away with questioning looks. Inconclusive. They tried again for a little longer, still returning with the same quizzical expressions. They went in for a third time, committing more thoroughly, and for a brief moment it seemed they might have found the semblance of a spark. But it didn’t build. It felt… fine? But no different than if they were lying together on the sofa. It was just another thing they were doing. They each tried to find the right word for what they were feeling, but were soon distracted by the oddness of it all.

Essi started to giggle. Less than a second later, Lambert joined her, and they both pulled away, thoroughly satisfied that their experiment had yielded a strong No on the subject of More. There was a dull thud as Essi slid from the couch and onto the floor, still holding her drink in one hand and laughing hysterically.

Lambert sighed and shook his head, "I think it’s time we got you to bed."

Headaches and dry mouths greeted the two friends the next morning when they blinked awake. Essi’s hair was a cotton-candy mess, having still been slightly damp when Lambert put her to bed. The brunet himself didn’t look much different from his usual scruffy state as he gathered Essi up in an armful of duvet and squeezed tight.

“Gods, Lambert, I still need to breathe,” Essi chuckled, pressing her back into his chest.

“You’ll get over it,” he teased and self-indulgently nuzzled even closer. “You feeling alright? I mean, aside from the hangover. About last night?”

“Oh no,” Essi groaned, “I’m so sorry, Lambert. I shouldn’t have said anything. It’s just—you kissed my head and then that got me wondering about whether you might want something else, and then I didn’t really know what was happening and—”

“Hey, easy on the rambling, okay, I’m running on limited brain cells, here. Look,” Lambert sat up to find those big blue eyes, now shining brightly, “I have no idea what the fuck this is that we’ve got going on, but I like it fine just the way it is.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. And we can keep talking about that. Just, you know, maybe next time something’s on your mind, don’t wait ‘til we’re wasted at 2am?”

“Okay, deal. Can we go get bacon now?”

Lambert chuckled, “Yeah, alright, fine. Make me put pants on, I see how it is.”

Their conversation continued over strong coffee and eggs benedicts. Between their check-in that morning and everything that had happened the previous night, it was well-established that they were perfectly happy where they were. Rather, the main topic of conversation was their growing desire to level with their friends about the nature of their relationship. Eskel and Geralt, they both agreed, would be the easiest—Lambert could tell them that evening. Julian and Essi’s friends on the other hand would be a little more difficult.

Telling Julian together would be best, Essi thought. He was bound to have questions, and if both she and Lambert were there to answer them definitively and explain that no, they didn’t have secret feelings for one another; and yes, they really were just friends and not at all interested in exploring the relationship further thank you very much. Exactly when this discussion with Julian would occur still wasn’t clear. Realistically, they could pick any time, but they decided to wait until Lambert could tell the Old Men. At least then they were assured some less invasive support.

Their reaction was easy enough to predict: Eskel reassuringly repeated his standby “As long as you’re both happy with things…” and twirled a forkful of pasta; Geralt tilted his head thoughtfully and said, “That sounds very nice. I’m happy for you.” Lambert had expected mild disapproval, concern that they were deviating too far from the norm and into a complex dynamic that would be too messy to manage. Instead, Geralt simply said it ‘sounded very nice.’ Lambert smiled into the open refrigerator on his way to get a beer.

The following weekend was Julian’s birthday, and, as per their annual tradition, the group all gathered on Friday evening at the birthday boy’s favourite restaurant—Vegelbud’s. The two decided to tell him the week after his birthday so as not to detract from his Big 3-0. Just one more week, and it would all be in the open. Easy breasy.

The afternoon of the dinner, Eskel and Geralt received a group text: Haven’t told Julian the details yet. Keep the beans to yourselves please (I’m looking at you, @Eskel).

“Why me?” Eskel turned to Geralt over his paperwork, looking a little hurt.

Geralt chuckled, “You have a slight tendency to overshare when you want to be supportive.”

“I do?” He turned on the bar stool to follow his partner on the way upstairs.

“It’s not a bad thing, but…” Geralt sighed, “Lambert has always needed to feel in control of situations like this. He doesn’t want one of us bringing this up before he’s ready to talk about it, especially in a public place, you know how he gets when he feels cornered. And Julian is Essi’s cousin…”

Eskel raised a hand, “You’re right, you’re right. All points taken. Are you showering?”

Geralt smirked as he headed for the stairs, “Come on then.”

Four hours later and halfway through dinner, everything had gone swimmingly. The food had been expectedly delicious, the company and conversation excellent, and so far no one had felt the need to bring up Essi and Lambert’s relationship on any level. That is until Julian got a few drinks under his belt, and decided it was time to document the occasion. Geralt and Eskel were the first victims.

“Aww just look at you two! So in love, so vivacious and full of adoration,” Julian held up his phone as Geralt touched the side of his head to Eskel’s. Beep-Chk! A perfect image of a happy couple was captured and posted to Instagram (#julianturns30 #dinneratvagelbuds #dinnerout #cutiesofinstagram #favoriteotp #gaycouplesofinstagram #livelaughlove…). There were a few more photos of the three of them together, the white chocolate raspberry cheesecake with the candle in it, a group shot taken by the waiter. It was all so close to being over, Essi could practically taste the refuge of the streetcar.

"Come on, lovebirds, show us a smooch!" Oh no. Oh no, oh no, oh no. Essi’s stomach lurched and she felt her cheeks start to warm. Lambert’s hand landed gently on her knee under the table, his fingers pressing firmly into her leg as she desperately tried to think of something to say.

"Oh, um..."

Across the table, Geralt and Eskel shared a wordless communication: de-escalate, distract, redirect.

“You’ll want to eat that cheesecake before it gets warm” Geralt offered. “I hear it’s so light it’ll disintegrate in a heartbeat.” Eskel nodded in encouragement, taking a bite of his own.

“I know, I know,” Julian shrugged, “Just a quick one. Say Cheese!”

"Not right now, Julian," Essi tilted her head, her eyes flashing a little.

"Oh come on, Poppet! I know you don't like PDA, it's just one little picture--"

“Don’t call me Poppet.”

Eskel cleared his throat loudly, "Doesn't seem they're that keen on it. Maybe let's try for one another time."

"It's past your one-month-a-versary, let everyone see how in love you are."

"Julian," Geralt growled, "leave it."

Julian covered his mouth in alarm, "I’m so sorry, have you not used that word yet? I didn’t mean anything by it, I just want the world to see how happy my beautiful cousin is!"

“Really Julian, it’s not necessary we—” Essi’s fingernails were starting to dig into Lambert’s palm from the sheer effort of maintaining composure. She wasn’t sure whether she wanted to cry or disappear, and with neither of those being an option, it seemed the only possible escape was for them to kiss. They’d done it before. No big deal. It would feel off, but they’d just go back to her place and drink about it after.

“Essi, what’s the matter with you, it’s just one little picture, and we all know you’re not camera-shy. On three, ready? One, two…”

"For fuck's sake we're not dating!"

The table all silently turned their attention to Essi whose cheeks had been turning progressively redder.

“What?” Her cousin laughed incredulously.

“We’re not a couple, Julian. We’re friends. We have been from the beginning, but we didn’t want to tell you because we knew you wouldn’t fucking leave us alone until you could boast about having set us up.”

Lambert shared a brief look with Eskel before lowering his eyes to the tablecloth, his hand still firmly clutched in Essi’s.

Julian gaped, “So, it was all… the cuddling, the laughing, that time I came over and you were asleep on the couch, that was all… a ruse?”

“No, Julian, that was real. I told you, we’re friends.”

“That’s not friends! Since when have friends watched a movie half-on-top of each other?”

“Two people can enjoy each other's company lying flat, Julian,” Eskel’s rich voice interjected across the table and the discussion ground to a halt.

Geralt shrugged with his tea at his lips, “It is the twenty-first century after all.”

Julian’s cornflower blue eyes flitted back and forth between the two friends, utterly bewildered. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Well what with your complete and utter invasion of privacy for the sake of hooking us up, we didn’t necessarily trust you to believe us,” Essi answered curtly, her hand shaking slightly.

“Poppet, you could have just told me—”

“Stop. Calling me that. And I did tell you, Julian!” she exploded. “I told you the first day I moved here. The first. Day. I said, ‘Julian, I think I want to take a break from dating until I’ve been settled for a year.’ And what did you do? Conspired with my well-meaning former mentor to hook me up with someone I had one good conversation with at a Christmas party. And do you know what? We are happy. But we’re happy in our own way. And maybe our boundaries with each other seem a little strange to you, but we’re not fooling ourselves. We don’t want to kiss each other, we don’t want to have sex, and we don’t want a relationship. And even though it’s absolutely none of your damn business, I’ll tell you anyway: we’ve talked about it. All of it. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I don’t think I want to be here anymore.”

The chair legs scraped against the floor of the restaurant as Essi stood to leave, throwing her purse over her shoulder as she went. Lambert looked hesitantly around the table, “I should probably, you know…” He gestured after Essi with his thumb. Eskel gave Lambert the go ahead and he quickly stood to follow his friend out of the restaurant, leaving a very stunned Julian with the other two. He found her perched on the parking barrier in the small lot to the left of the front doors. He called to her and she looked up. Eyes shining, mascara running...

“Ah shit, you know I’m no good with this kind of thing.”

“I’m sorry, Lambert, I just—” she blew her nose, “—he just wouldn’t stop and I didn’t know what to do or say, and it all just came pouring out. I didn’t want it to. The whole time I was begging myself to stop, but I just couldn’t, it’s been bottled up for so long and-and—but it’s his birthday, and—oh, he must feel so awful! I didn’t want to make him feel bad, but—and with Eskel and Geralt there too! They must think I’m horrible! I’m so sorry, Lambert, I didn’t want it to be like this, I wanted to have him over and sit him down and be patient, and instead I’ve just made a complete mess of things. And on his birthday! It’s his birthday, oh God, this is the worst thing I could have done.” Essi choked back bitter tears as she tried desperately to stem the flow with her soggy tissue, “Are you upset with me, Lambert? If you are, I understand. Maybe we should take a break of some kind, you know. Not see each other for a while and—”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, hold it right there. Look, I’m probably not going to say any of the right stuff here, but I am absolutely not upset with you. You got that? And for what it’s worth, I don’t think us taking a break from spending time together is going to do anything. Unless you’re looking to punish yourself by taking away a nice thing which, okay. But the fact that you’re willing to ditch me instead of Arbor Mist says something about our friendship I’m not too pleased with.”

Essi turned her wide, pleading, bloodshot eyes to Lambert who cracked a smile, “Jesus, I’m kidding! You adorable fucking mess, c’mere.” He pulled his petite friend into a hug and rested his chin on the top of her head until she quieted down. Neither of them was quite sure how much time had gone by, but Essi found herself wishing it had been long enough for everyone to have gone home so she didn’t have to face whatever aftermath she’d left behind.

Meanwhile, Eskel and Geralt had settled the bill and offered to give Julian a lift back to their place for a night cap, not wanting to leave the evening on such an unsettled note. Essi needed space, and whatever company she needed, Lambert was clearly capable of providing. It was for the best, they suggested, and dissuaded Julian from trying to call her.

“Best to sleep on things,” Geralt said, tucking his card back into his wallet and giving the waiter a nod in gratitude. “We can meet for coffee this weekend and sort this out. For now, just let her cool down.”

Eskel clapped Julian encouragingly on the shoulder as they made their way into the damp summer night air. As they turned into the parking lot, they came face-to-face with Essi and Lambert who had clearly just turned to come back inside. Both cousins looked like they had seen better days: Essi’s eyes were puffy and red, her cheeks blotchy and streaked with inky makeup stains; Julian was perhaps less dishevelled, but the dark circles under his eyes were more pronounced, his boyish features now dejectedly weighted down with remorse and hurt.

“Juian, I’m so sorry, I didn’t—”

Essi’s cousin raised his hand, “Don’t. Please don’t. Essi, I am so, so sorry. I never meant to push you like that, I didn't realize... you both have been so happy this last month and—"

"It's okay, really, we can talk about this all another time. I'm just so sorry I ruined your birthday. We wanted to sit down with you and talk properly but..." Essi's tears welled up again, and Julian smiled weakly.

"But we both did what we always do?"

She sniffed, nodding emphatically with a tearful, "Yeah.” Julian pulled his cousin into a fond embrace while the other three clumped together to watch the reconciliation.

“Oh! Here,” Essi reached into her purse and pulled out a small, neatly-wrapped box. “Happy birthday!”

Julian opened his gift without a second thought, his face brightening instantly. The box contained a set of premium ultra-light guitar strings and a pair of concert tickets. The perfect gift. Overwhelmed with gratitude, and the atmosphere having been recovered, Julian suggested they all attend brunch together that Sunday morning, his treat by way of apology. Geralt offered to split the bill as a peace offering for his part in the initial setup, and the five made a date.

A fresh start, a promise of spending time together with fewer secrets and, Julian conceded, a few more boundaries.

#witcher rarepair summer bingo #wrsb #Platonic #queerplatonic #no romo #Geralt/Eskel #Essbert #Gereskel #Jaskier #Julian Alfred Pankratz #alcohol #drunkenness #Essi & Lambert #Essi Daven #Lambert

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