Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Three buildings were sandwiched together on Main Street in the quaint town of Destiny. In those three buildings were the most lucrative businesses in town. At the coffee shop, Kaer Mocha, Lambert, Jaskier, and Geralt always managed the morning rush. 

Wolfish Appetites was in the middle building and had the best baked goods in the county. People travelled from all over, especially during wedding season, for Eskel, Triss, and Cerys’ creations. 

The last building housed The Last Wish, a book and metaphysical shop that Yennefer ran while Keira performed and taught Reiki healing, and Corinne read tarot cards. 

Those who worked at the three stores had a deal. Kaer Mocha supplied everyone with their morning coffee. Wolfish Appetites supplied the mid-day snacks. The Last Wish always lent out books for the slow days. 

There was one more thing they shared. Gossip. 

Lambert and Keira thought they were sneaky with the way they undressed each other with their eyes, but their status as fuck-buddies was the worst kept secret. Jaskier had fifty dollars on Eskel asking Cerys to marry him within the next month, Triss bet it wouldn’t happen for another six, and Geralt had money on Cerys asking Eskel first. And yet, the current pièce de résistance was the rich CEO who’d moved into town and taken a shining to Geralt—who was painfully, hilariously oblivious. 

°°°

The bells over the door of The Last Wish chimed as Jaskier walked in. In his hand, a tray of specialty coffee. As always, he went first to the counter, walking behind it as though he worked there. He pulled the vanilla cold brew out, leaning over the back of his wife’s chair. “Yennefer, Yennefer, won’t you come hither, I’ll give you something to make you shiver.” 

“Yes. My cold brew,” she said dryly. “Delightful.” 

“You wound me, my love.” 

She tapped her cheek, and he kissed her there, knowing better than to smudge her lipstick at work. 

Keira and Corinne emerged from the bookshelves to gather around the desk for their own coffees. “Guess what happened?” he asked as he passed each of the women their drinks. 

Before any of them could answer, the door opened again even though The Last Wish didn’t officially open for another half hour. Eskel wouldn’t be turned away though, especially not with the fresh from the oven croissants he had on a plate. “Good morning, ladies.” 

“Good morning, Eskel,” they replied in an eerie unison. 

Jaskier had already seen Eskel earlier when he’d run coffee over to the bakery. While Wolfish Appetites opened at the same time as Kaer Mocha, the baking for the day started hours earlier, so they got priority coffee delivery. 

“Guess who came in for coffee this morning?” Jaskier asked, leaning his hip against the desk.

“The new guy in town,” Corinne said, picking a croissant off the plate. 

“He’s so hot,” Keira said. “I don’t have a daddy kink, but he makes me reconsider.” 

“Keira!” Corinne shrieked while her face went red. 

“Yes, he came in,” Jaskier said, delighting in the way the attention returned to him. “Walked in wearing some fancy three piece suit, ordered from yours truly, only I was entirely ignored.” Another time, and he might be insulted, but Geralt’s general obliviousness was far too fun. “He spent the entire time sneaking glances at Geralt.” 

“He has a name, you know,” Yennefer said. “Emhyr var Emreis.” 

Keira leaned her elbows on the desk, her blonde hair falling over her shoulder. “How do you know this?”

Yennefer picked up a newspaper from her desk, and folded it in half. She pointed at the article. “Emhyr var Emreis, CEO of a major architectural firm. He bought and intends on remodeling the old McKinnon house. The historical society tried to block it but he’s managed to get all the paperwork and permissions.” 

“Already making friends,” Eskel said dryly. “I need to get back to work.” 

“Fuck, me too.” Jaskier quickly kissed Yennefer on the cheek again before she could protest, and left the women to finish getting ready to open shop. He walked back to Kaer Mocha, giving a little wave in parting to Eskel, who continued walking to the bakery. 

The scent of coffee hit him the moment he stepped through the door. Oh, how he loved it here. Lambert was standing beside one of the tables, delivering one of their breakfast sandwiches and a few coffees to an older couple. Geralt was both working cash and preparing the drinks. Jaskier felt a little bad for getting caught up in the gossip, leaving his coworkers to deal with the morning rush. He pushed through the door into the small kitchen, grabbed his apron with his name stitched on the front, and got to work. 

°°°

At mid-day, Corrinne took her break. She picked up Geralt’s book order for delivery and walked over to Kaer Mocha. The coffee shop was always busy and always understaffed. The last employee that they’d hired ended up skimming from the till which considering Lambert and Geralt’s trust issues, that hadn’t gone over well, and they’d refused to hire anyone new.

Wolfish Appetites had a similar problem with one of their bakers on maternity leave and the two teenage hires had gone off to university at the beginning of September leaving them short-staffed until they could find replacements. 

Corinne didn’t wait in line, having put in an order hours ago by texting Lambert. She slipped into the back where Lambert was making sandwiches. He looked over at her when she entered. “Oh, package! For me?” 

“No, it’s Geralt’s.” 

“Lame.”

Corinne tucked it into the cube shelf by the door that also held Geralt’s phone and keys. Her order was in a bag with her name on it. “Thanks, Lam.” 

“Say ‘hey’ to Triss for me.” 

She grinned. “Are you sure you don’t want me to say ‘hey’ to Keira instead?” 

He pointed the bread knife at her. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” 

Corinne laughed and slipped out the back door. At the far side of the back parking lot there was a picnic table. She walked across the lot, between Geralt’s motorcycle and Jaskier’s bright blue convertible. She set up at the picnic table and Triss walked over a few minutes later. 

“It has been a long day,” Triss said, leaning over for a kiss. 

Corinne sighed, leaning into the way Triss cupped her face. “You’ve been taste testing the chocolate covered strawberries again,” she said against Triss’ lips. 

“Perk of the job.” Triss sat down on the other side of the picnic table and opened the plastic container with her ham and cheese bagel. “Lambert on sandwich duty?”

“Yeah, why?”

“Bless him, always puts in extra cheese. Geralt’s stingy.” Triss glanced up from her sandwich. “Did you hear about Mr. Three Piece Suit this morning?” 

Corinne laughed. “Of course! Jaskier told us when he brought in the coffees. Oh, and Lam says ‘hey.’” 

Triss raised a brow. “Surprised he didn’t want you to say ‘hey’ to Keira.” 

“That’s what I said!” 

They chatted while they ate their lunches, packed up the reusable containers to return to Kaer Mocha, and kissed one last time in the back lot before returning to work. 

°°°

Eskel finished the details on the last of the cupcake orders for the first PTA night at the local elementary school. While they didn’t pay him for them, he still used them as a demonstration of skill. He did what he could to ensure Wolfish Appetites was always the first on parents minds when it came to birthday parties and graduations, the advertisement worked for all other occasions too. 

“Looks good, Boss,” Triss said. She’d be the one to take them to the PTA meeting and probably get the credit. Her and Corinne’s twins, Sarah and Johnny, were in the second grade, so they both made the effort to be involved at the school. Which also meant someone would be babysitting tonight. 

“I’m not… babysitting, right?” he asked, wondering if it had slipped his mind. 

“No, Lambert’s going to watch them.” Both of the children absolutely adored Lambert, they liked his big truck, and his half-blind dog, and the fact that Lambert knew all the songs of the cartoon movies they liked to watch. “Which means I’ve got to cut out early to pick them up from school to get them to Kaer Mocha since Lambert’s shift runs after pick-up time. Do you mind?”

“Nah, go get them,” Eskel said. “I’ll box these up for the meeting, should be done by the time you get back.”

“Thanks!”

“Don’t thank me, I need you to come in early tomorrow. Last minute order for a three tiered cake.” 

She sighed. “Sure.” 

“It’s for Emhyr var Emreis.” 

Her mouth dropped, and she went to the clipboard of orders. She’d been trying to get Eskel to digitize for years, but lately she’d instead been working on Cerys who she knew could convince Eskel of anything. There, in Eskel’s all capital lettered writing was the details. “Who is Cirilla?” 

“Wife? Girlfriend? Sister? I don’t know, he didn’t say, just Happy Birthday, Cirilla.” 

Triss had the overwhelming desire to go and tell the others, to see what they thought. Oh, Jaskier had been a terrible influence on her. 

“Don’t you have to pick up Johnny and Sarah?” 

She looked back over her shoulder and found Eskel smirking. “I’m going, I’m going!” But not before she went next door, picked up a coffee and let the information slip to Jaskier. 

°°°

Yennefer shuffled Corinne’s tarot cards. She didn’t have any belief in spirits or that the cards could predict the future. However, over the years, they had made her take a hard look at certain aspects of her life. In many cases, those moments of introspection had been long needed and led to various changes in her life. 

Jaskier never let her forget that she’d drawn The Lovers on the day they met. 

He’d been skittish in those days of their early acquaintanceship. His true nature suppressed by the possessive and ultimately violent relationship that had taken him years to leave. He’d called Geralt. They’d been close with in university, and even after the years without communication, Jaskier still trusted Geralt above everyone else.

Yennefer wondered if even now she knew full story. Jaskier didn’t like talking about it, got a far away look in his eye when someone even skirted around the topic. She’d been careful with him when Geralt came into The Last Wish with the man in tow. Jaskier had worn makeup that day but she’d seen some purpling around his neck that he hadn’t quite managed to cover. 

He hadn’t wanted to be alone in Geralt’s apartment, but Kaer Mocha had become a bit too much for Jaskier. Too busy, too loud, too many people. Geralt had known that Yennefer was only doing inventory at The Last Wish, closed to customers on Sundays. Apparently Geralt’s trust in her had been enough. She let him wander the stacks of books, and toy with the crystals on display, while she continued doing inventory and waited for him to come to her. 

“Do you believe in these?” he’d asked her, wiggling Corinne’s favourite tarot deck. 

She remembered pausing before answering, stuck for a moment in the bright blue of his eyes. “I believe that they help you focus on certain aspects of your life but can’t really predict the future.” 

“So, these aren’t yours?”

“No, they’re Corinne’s.” 

He’d paled. “She’s not going to be mad I touched them, is she?” 

“No, not at all. Corinne is very peace, love, and food so spicy she once made Geralt cry.” Jaskier had let out a little laugh, which was just what she’d wanted. “If you have an interest, I’m sure Corinne would be happy to teach you.” 

“Seems an impossible task.” He’d set the deck on the counter and spread them out in a line. “There are like a hundred cards.” 

“Seventy eight, twenty two of which are Major Arcana, fifty six are the Minor Arcana.” 

“I thought you didn’t have an interest in them.” 

“I sell them, I should know a thing or two. Pick a card.” 

He’d hovered his fingers over the cards. “What if I get Death?” 

“It doesn’t mean death in the literal sense. Usually, it just means the end of something.” 

“Like a relationship?” he’d asked, glancing over at her. 

“Yes.” 

He’d chewed on his lower lip, fingers darting here and there before finally drawing one and flipping it over. “The Fool,” he’d muttered with a frown. 

She’d gently plucked the card from his hand. “It’s actually a good card. Spontaneity and a free spirit, sounds like you from the stories I’ve heard from Geralt about your university days.” She’d thumbed over the little white dog at The Fool’s feet. “It’s also a card about new beginnings.” She’d held it back out to Jaskier who took it with a renewed interest. 

“You draw one.” 

She hadn’t made the show of it, didn’t do as Corinne did waiting for some hot or cold spot she swore she felt. Yennefer had grabbed a card at random. 

The Lovers.

“Oooooh,” Jaskier had grinned and Yennefer saw some of the light return to his eyes. “You’re going to have someone new in your life.” She hadn’t pointed out that that wasn’t necessarily what it meant, not when he looked so gleeful. “Some strapping lumberjack of a man will come in the door and sweep you off your feet, or some pretty woman, I’m not judging—“ he’d went on, illustrating some ridiculous meet-cute to the tune of her laughter. 

By the time Geralt had returned at the end of his shift, after only hours of knowing one another, she felt as though she’d known Jaskier her whole life. As if she hadn’t known some integral piece of herself had been lost for ages, but now it settled in and she felt whole.  

The bells above the door chimed and shook her from the memory. Jaskier looked different now, he’d put on a healthy amount of weight and his face no longer looked gaunt. He wore the rings on his fingers that his ex-boyfriend had hated, and her favourite was the wedding band that matched hers. His eyes went to her the moment he entered, like a flower turning to the sun. His hair was longer, messier than he’d been permitted to keep it with his ex. 

“Guess what I just heard from Triss!” 

She said nothing, just tapped her lips. 

His brows jumped but he happily complied to the silent request, his kiss so sweet, and then he returned to the daily gossip while sitting pretty on his desk. 

Chapter Text

[September 15 | 6:04 PM]

Destiny suffered the curse of all small towns, which is, everyone knows everyone else’s business. Triss and Corinne knew a thing about being at the heart of the small town gossip mill. At first there were those who quietly murmured about them getting married, people were louder when they adopted the twins. 

Triss remembered nights holding Corinne who felt things so deep, who loved their children so much, who just didn’t understand why people could be so narrow minded. For a while, they’d considered moving to the city, just to get away from the whispers and snarky remarks. They talked about going somewhere where they were completely unknown. 

But that would take them from their chosen family. 

So, they stayed. 

The gossip always changed, as the twins grew older, there were less comments about their family. They weren’t the anomaly at PTA meetings anymore. There were plenty of people who adored Wolfish Appetites, and Triss’ work that they had memories tied to: anniversaries, birthdays, graduations and the like, all sweetened by cupcakes and tiered cakes. Those who went to Corinne for guidance were always grateful for the ear, the privacy for she didn’t let those things spoken in her little alcove full of incense and tarot cards make their way to the streets. They’d become part of the tapestry of Destiny, interwoven, their colours bold and bright. 

The library they stood in was full of snacks and drinks. Parents and teachers were elbow to elbow, socializing. Corrine laughed at something one of the other parents said. Triss smiled though she hadn’t been paying any attention. Across the room was Philippa, who hand her hand on her husband’s arm. 

Sigismund, Philippa’s husband, had wanted the three buildings that made up the bakery, the coffee shop, and the book store on main street several years ago. He’d made all their lives hell in his attempts to gain the property. Too bad Eskel was too good at business, Lambert was too stubborn, and Geralt was incapable of being intimidated. Their father had given them each one of the buildings when he’d gone off to retire in Florida. Eskel owned Wolfish Appetites, Lambert owned Kaer Mocha, and Geralt owned The Last Wish—but had Yennefer manage it as he had no interest in actively running a business. None of the brothers would budge, no matter how pushy Sigismund got. He and his wife had held a grudge against them, and their supportive employees ever since. 

Which was why it was no surprise that as the meeting got well and underway that Philippa shot down every one of Triss’ ideas. 

Principal Foltest stood before them. “We need fundraiser ideas.” 

“Bake sales always do well,” Triss said—and her treats always sold the most. 

“With the current child obesity rates?” Philippa asked, raising an arched brow. “We want our children to grow happy and healthy, we shouldn’t support their track and field meetings with cupcakes.” 

“So you want to sell, what? Carrot sticks?” Triss shot back and smirked when one of the parents behind her coughed to cover a laugh. 

Despite Philippa’s comments, the bake sale was put on the board along with a funfair, an art sale, read-a-thon, and a cupcake decorating day that made Triss shoot a smug look over at Philippa once it was settled upon. 

As things started to wind down, Corinne nudged Triss and leaned in close. “Behind you, against the wall, is that the hot coffee guy?”

Triss turned in her seat a little, trying to make it look casual, like she just wanted to get a better look at her wife. She glanced off to the side and saw him. Emhyr var Emreis, just a moment before he slipped out the door.  “Yes, that was him. He must have a kid.” 

“Has he ever come in with kids?”

“Not into the bakery. And if he’d come into the coffee shop with some tots either Jaskier or Lambert would have told us within three point four seconds.” 

Corinne grinned and pulled out her phone. “I’m texting Jask. I never have the scoop. This is so exciting.” 

Triss just reached out and twirled a lock of Corinne’s hair around her finger, basking both in her wife’s enjoyment, but also getting the best of Philippa. All in all, a successful night. 

[SEPTEMBER 17 | 7:02 AM]

Jaskier missed the keyhole on the first try. He cursed under his breath and unlocked the back door to Kaer Mocha. It was well known that he despised opening shifts but Lambert had the day off, and Geralt had opened five mornings in a row. His feet dragged as he moved through the back room. Backpack dropped to the floor, and was kicked into the lowest cubby. 

Instead of immediately starting to set up, he made himself a large cold brew. Summer was finally fading away, children were back in school, soon he’d switch over to coffee, lattes, and tea. For now, he chugged back a quarter of the cold brew. 

Three bangs on the back door. The delivery from Wolfish Appetites. Ugh, he’d never survive the morning shift there, Eskel was always at work by five AM sharp. Jaskier wasn’t sure how he survived. 

Cerys was on the other side of the door with boxes on boxes on boxes of bagels. “Good morning!”

Morning people. “Yeah, yeah. You want something to drink?” 

“Sure. Surprise me.” She followed him inside, and started transferring the bagels into their properly labelled bins in the tiny kitchen.

He left her to it. They weren’t officially making pumpkin spice lattes for customers quite yet, they waited until the first official day of fall to add them to their menu, but he knew how much Cerys loved them. He whipped one up for her in between sips of his own cold brew. 

“Hey, Jask?” Cerys called from the kitchen. 

“Yeah?” He rocked back a little to see her back still turned to him as she put the cinnamon raisin bagels in their bin. 

“Have you noticed anything…odd about Eskel?”

“Odd?” He ran his hand through his hair as he gave the question the bare minimum consideration. “I mean… he does get up at like four AM. I think that’s pretty fucking odd.” 

She set the tongs aside and joined him behind the register. “A couple weekends ago, he took off early, said he was meeting with an old friend.” Out of habit, he checked her left hand. He had money on Eskel proposing before the end of the month. “He wasn’t out that late but…the restaurant he said he was at closed down three weeks ago.” 

Eskel didn’t lie, he was as straight a shooter as they came. If he was going to lie, it wouldn’t be to Cerys. Unless he was trying to surprise her. A ring! Eskel must have gone out to buy the ring! Jaskier sucked on the metal straw in his cold brew while he tried to formulate a response. 

“You’re fretting over nothing. We both know Eskel is terrible with names.” Jaskier pointed to the square vase exploding with colourful flowers beside the till. It had been delivered by Francesca two days ago, a little stand with the flower shops business cards sat beside it. “Every business in this row advertises for the Cosmic Garden and I know for a fact that Eskel always calls it ‘the flower shop.’” 

“Okay, but—“

“And what does he call Chickenopolis?”

Cerys smirked. “Chicken Palace.” 

“And four years ago on our group no technology cottage retreat, did he or did he not add two hours to the drive because he read the street name wrong?”

She laughed. “He did.” 

He set his drink aside and put his hands on her shoulders. “Eskel is a good man. He is surprisingly dumb with names for someone so very smart, but you should never doubt his love for you.” 

She leaned into him, her hugs were always so tight and his feet lifted off the floor for a second. “You’re right, of course, I’ve been foolish.” She picked up her latte. “You’re a good friend.” 

“Good?” He feigned outrage. “Good, that’s it? Unbelievable—“

“Great, exceptional, outstanding,” she said over him. 

“That’s better!” 

“I need go get back.” She glanced down at the floor, took a deep breath, and looked back up at him. “Can you keep this just between us?” 

Despite what everyone thought, he could keep a secret. He mimed locking his lips and throwing away the key. 

She smiled into her first sip and her eyes lit up.  “It’s pumpkin spice time!”

“Shhh, you’re getting it nine days early.” 

“Marvelous.” She turned on her heel and walked away.

Between his cold brew and the conversation with Cerys he’d perked up. He might just win the bet after all. 

[SEPTEMBER 20 | 8:37 PM]

Keira breathed in the cool night air. They city lights and noises were a nice change in pace. The breeze blew some of her hair into her face. Dinner had been nice. Unexpected, but nice. She and Lambert weren’t a couple, not really. They didn’t hold hands, they didn’t kiss in front of people, they were only occasionally each other’s plus one to events and that was for the free food. They both liked the single life. 

They also both enjoyed the perks of being friends with very lovely benefits. 

And friends could get dinner without it meaning more. 

He tucked some of her hair behind her ear, a smirk on his lips. Her heart kicked up, the rude of the traitorous organ. She grabbed him by the lapel of his leather jacket and pulled him close. He hadn’t been expecting it and they both toppled off balance, her back hit a car, luckily it didn’t have an alarm. 

His hands managed to slip under the hem of the back of her shirt, cold fingertips made her arch against his body. He smothered her shout with his own lips. Two could play at that game. She got her own cool hands under the front of his shirt, delighted in making him shiver—she always did. 

Keira tilted her head when his lips shifted to her neck. “Coffee at my place?”

Coffee was never coffee. 

Coffee was always shirt by the door, a sock or two on the stairs, pants in the hall, and undergarments by the bed. 

His beard burned against the sensitive skin of her jaw when he whispered in her ear, “yes.” 

She gave him a little push back a step. The look in his eyes was familiar, and it always led to a very good night. Over his shoulder, she saw a couple—which considering who she was with, would have been ignorable if she wasn’t pretty sure that man was Emhyr var Emreis. 

She dragged Lambert between some cars so she could spy a little more covertly. “What are we—“

“Shh!” 

The woman had fair skin, long blonde hair, a reed thin build, she looked like a particularly strong breeze would knock her right off her Louis Vuitton heels. She touched Emhyr like she was allowed that privilege, her hand on his chest as she spoke, the words lost to the city.

“Wait…that’s the guy who makes eyes at Geralt, right?” Lambert asked, crouching a little beside her. 

“Yes, now shh.” 

“Trying to eavesdrop?”

She stepped on his toes and he hissed out a breath. Her attention returned to the two just in time to see the woman yank on Emhyr’s tie, pulling him closer to kiss him. 

“The fuck—“

“We should go,” Keira said, uncomfortable watching the two kiss. “Come on.” She dragged him along but her mind was no longer on getting him into her bed. 

[SEPTEMBER 21 | 8:18 AM]

Emhyr var fucking Emreis could suck Lambert’s left nut if he thought he was going to be getting close to Geralt. Not on his watch. Not after he’d spent the previous night watching Emhyr suck face with some little model type who looked young enough to be his daughter. 

Geralt was one of those people that took a while to open up. He didn’t tend to be overly chatty with people he didn’t know well. He was careful with who he let in too close but was fiercely loyal to those who made it past his guard. 

A little too loyal sometimes to people who no longer deserved it. 

If Lambert had a say, Emhyr would never get close enough. He cut open bagels with a little too much force, toasted, topped and packed up, bagged if he needed to. He and Geralt worked smoothly through the morning rush. Geralt worked the till and made the coffee while Lambert made the breakfast sandwiches. Everything moved smooth as butter. Until Lambert heard that low voice he’d come to know over the past few weeks. 

He caught something about a gym, and looked over his shoulder to see Geralt nodding along, saying something about weight sets—the oblivious himbo didn’t understand that his body was being admired, not that said admirer was asking for gym tips to get similar results. God bless his idiot brother. 

If Geralt knew that Lambert had a motive for keeping him from speaking with Emhyr, he’d dig in his feet. Instead, Lambert walked in like he wasn’t seething. “Switch me, my hand keeps cramping on the knife.” It was an actual problem he had, misspent teenage years getting into trouble with bare knuckle boxing. Now he was older, wiser, and on arthritis medication like he was their geriatric father. 

Geralt just patted Lambert on the shoulder and walked off into the kitchen leaving Emhyr to watch him go. Lambert glanced at the screen. One black coffee. “That all?” 

Emhyr’s attention finally shifted to Lambert. “Yes.” He held up a card and the transaction went through. Lambert poured a cup of coffee, slammed the lid on, and passed it over to Emhyr. He didn’t bother with the niceties but Emhyr didn’t even seem to notice, he just grabbed his coffee and left. 

Lambert worked the front end for the rest of the morning rush and into that first little lull between the breakfast and lunch time. There were only a few customers sitting around, enjoying coffee and bagels. Some were chatting, others were reading the local paper. 

The Pellar sat in the middle with his usual order of jasmine tea and an everything bagel with butter. An odd man, well known for being just that. He had a goat named Princess and claimed to be able to foresee the future using the bones of animals. He tipped well enough, and that made him okay in Lambert’s books. The other customers were people that Lambert knew the faces of but didn’t know a name. While small towns ensured you circled around the same people, it didn’t really mean you knew everyone. 

Geralt wandered out of the kitchen. “Finally quieted down. You might want to take your break now before it picks up again.” 

He checked his watch. Chances were very good that Eskel was right at this moment pulling out fresh apple cinnamon mini pies. Nice. “Be back in fifteen.” 

“Bring me a pie,” Geralt requested. 

“You got it.” 

Chapter Text

[September 24 | 8:45 PM]

The music that played through the speakers at Kaer Mocha was entirely instrumental and slow enough to make Geralt want to sleep. Jaskier must have been going through one of his melancholy phases when he made the playlist. 

It wasn’t often that Geralt had the closing shift since he really didn’t mind opening. Jaskier dragged his feet and wasn’t even fully awake until he had an unreasonable amount of caffeine in him. Lambert was cranky regardless of the hour but tended to have more patience after ten AM. Both men needed the afternoon off though, Jaskier in order to take Yennefer out on one of his grand date plans that he loved putting together and Yennefer never dared take the spark out of him by refusing, and Lambert had made some vague excuse but Geralt knew he was just going out with Keira. 

The shift had been quiet. For a while there had been the familiar trio of elderly ladies who bought coffee and did some knitting in the corner, but they’d departed a few minutes ago. That left what he’d originally thought was one group of six teenagers but the more he paid attention it seemed more like one group teasing the new kid. 

He knew some of the kids from around Destiny—either they had part-time jobs at one of the local establishments or they played in the softball team that he’d somehow been drafted into coaching.

Of those surrounding the table, he recognized Jakob who played center field on his team. Jakob could be a little shit but he was good with his glove and even better with a bat. The games helped to keep him out of trouble—so said his single mother who Eskel kept saying had eyes for Geralt. Which was bullshit, Nancy was just worried about her kid and grateful that he’d been let on the team. 

Beside Jakob was Ziggy, Geralt had no idea what his real name was, but he worked at the gas station so Geralt saw him from time to time. The others he knew faces of, familiar with their drink orders, he was pretty sure one of them was the daughter of a woman he’d dated back in high school. 

In any case, Jakob was sitting across from the new girl. She’d come in alone with her backpack and didn’t look happy about the company, her shoulders nearly up to her ears, eyes firmly on the paper her pen hovered over. 

Geralt quickly whipped up a hot chocolate added whipped cream and sprinkles before walking out the door from the kitchen that led him right beside the table with the teenagers. 

Jakob startled in his seat and a sudden hush fell over the table. Geralt sat the cup down by the girl’s hand. “Jakob, you’re not being a shit in my coffee shop right?” 

“What? Nah, Big G, I’m a saint.” Jakob flashed a smile. Ziggy and two of the girls snickered. 

“Didn’t look like it,” Geralt said. “I’m closing up, get out of here before I call your mother.” 

Jakob’s hand went over his heart. “You wound me.” He stood and grabbed his backpack and skateboard. “See you at the tournament this weekend, Big G.” 

“Stay out of trouble,” he said back as Jakob and his group of friends left. 

Geralt’s attention shifted back to the girl. She was probably about sixteen, her hair the same shocking fair white as his own, eyes a bright blue as she stared at him then down at the drink. “I didn’t order this.” 

He shrugged. “It gave me an excuse to interrupt. Don’t listen to them, they’re all a bunch of troublemakers.” 

“Thanks,” she said softly. “But you’re closing up, I should go.” 

“There’s still another ten, and I’ve got dishes and machines to clean. You’re getting picked up, right?” There were no buses in Destiny and while it was a quiet, sleepy town, he couldn’t help but worry. 

“Yeah, my dad should have already been here. He must have gotten distracted. I’ll text him.” 

“No rush,” he said and left her with her hot chocolate and homework. 

He was halfway through cleaning out one of the machines when he heard the chime of the door ten minutes past closing. 

“I’m sorry, I know I’m late,” a deep, recognizable voice. Emhyr.

“Surprising no one,” the girl said. 

Geralt walked out of the back room just in time to see Emhyr’s shoulders fall a little, his eyes still firmly on who Geralt guessed had to be his daughter. “I’m trying, Cirilla.”

“It’s past closing, Dad.” Cirilla’s eyes then turned to Geralt. “Thanks for the hot chocolate.” 

Emhyr frowned. “Thank you for letting her stay here.” 

“Don’t worry about it, takes a village, right?”

Emhyr looked a bit surprised, maybe because he was from the city. Destiny had always been aggressively close knit, for better or worse. 

Geralt bid them a good night and locked up the front.

[September 25 | 3:36 PM]

Decorating an order of twelve cupcakes for a baby shower was only difficult because Eskel was so distracted. There was a bride and groom that had driven an hour and a half for a taste test. It wasn’t like he was nervous about if they would choose Wolfish Appetites for the cake, even if, by the looks of them, it would be a lucrative deal. No, he was distracted because Cerys had braided her hair into a pretty crown and was serving them small samples of their cakes, fillings, icing. 

Cerys wasn’t in her usual apron, dusted in flour, wearing comfortable but professional clothes. Instead, she wore a pretty dark blue dress with gold flowers accenting the one side. 

The kitten heels clicked on the floor as she came back into the back and leaned in close to him to spy through the cut-out in the wall. The two of them watched the engaged couple feeding each other bites of the sample slices. 

“They really liked the lemon,” she said, turning on her heel. 

His eyes followed her as she checked the clipboard, flipping through some of the orders. She paused and looked over her shoulder. “Darling, one of those half-dozen are supposed to be green.” 

He looked down, he knew it was supposed to be a half/half order. Instead, he’d started icing the second in the same yellow as the first. “Shit,” he muttered under his breath. 

“We’ll scrape it off, it’ll be fine,” she said. 

She went to open on of the drawers but he grabbed her hand. “I’ve got it. It would be a shame if you got icing on you dress.” 

Her grin was wicked. “Do you like it?” She did a little twirl. 

He really did. He nodded. 

She leaned in and gave him a quick, chaste kiss. “I better check on our couple.” 

His eyes followed her on the way out. She was radiant and confident as she approached them. She had a way with people that he just didn’t. He loved her so much, and one of these days he’d find the perfect moment to give her the ring he had hidden away. 

[September 26 | 1:32 PM]

Although the lunch rush was over, there was still a steady trickle of customers coming into Kaer Mocha. Lambert had the first lunch break and was eager to get to it. The mistake was brought on by rushing and carelessness. 

The knife sliced easily through his finger, blood spilling onto the bagel. “Fuck!” 

“Lam, you okay?” He looked over his shoulder at Jaskier, who stood on the threshold that separated the front of the shop and the back kitchen area. His face lost all colour as he stared at the wound. “Oh God, you’re bleeding.” 

“It’s fine,” Lambert insisted roughly, trying to pinch the skin closer together, blood pooled and spilled over. 

Jaskier wavered a little in his stance, his breath short and choppy. 

“Don’t you dare be sick!” Lambert quickly tried to wipe the blood on his dark t-shirt. 

“Geralt!” Jaskier whined, turning around only to nearly step right into Geralt’s chest. Geralt and Jaskier had always had an easy friendship even if Lambert had never quite understood. Maybe it was one of those opposites attract things. Geralt’s arm went around Jaskier, keeping him upright. 

Geralt looked at Lambert’s hand, then at Jaskier, then back at the customers. He nodded to himself, as though he’d come up with a plan of action. He gently coaxed Jaskier into sitting down on the floor and put his head between his knees. He grabbed a bottle of water from the little fridge and put it into Jaskier’s hands. He then stood, and went through the drawers until he found a towel. 

The little bell on the counter tinged a few times. “One minute,” Geralt snapped. Usually his brother was quiet, far more willing to put up with bullshit. 

“I’m fine,” Lambert insisted. 

“That’s a lot of blood,” Geralt said. From the corner, Jaskier groaned at the mention. “You might need stitches.” He dragged Lambert by the wrist over to the sink. 

“Woah, I’ll wash it myself,” Lambert said before Geralt could dump soap on his hand. 

Geralt stared, waiting. 

Lambert really wanted to tell his brother to fuck off, but ultimately couldn’t bring himself to do it. He hissed as the water hit the cut. “I can fucking put a bandaid on.” 

“I’m not kidding,” Geralt said. “I think that needs stitches.” 

“What if it gets infected,” Jaskier whined. 

“It’s not going to get infected,” Geralt replied, far more soothing a tone directed at Jaskeir than Lambert who was actually injured. 

Someone tinged the bell again and Geralt’s face did that thing that Lambert couldn’t quite explain—like the emotion had drained out but his eyes were all anger. Everyone knew when Lambert was angry, his anger was loud and frequently was joined with fists. His brother was a quiet danger. “Don’t.” 

Geralt grabbed the towel, pulled Lambert’s hand away from the water and quickly applied pressure. “Hold that.” He then went back out front. 

Lambert hated the way he could feel his pulse in his finger but he’d had worse. He was more concerned about Jaskier, still sitting with his head between his knees. His fingers were moving, like he was playing an invisible instrument. 

Geralt stormed back in, looked at the cutting station, cursed, and got out the cleaning and sanitizing supplies. “No more fucking around, we need to hire someone.” 

As much as Lambert didn’t like it, Geralt was right. All it had taken was one little cut to stop two of them from working. “We’ll find someone.” He despised the hiring process but could admit that their skeleton crew couldn’t keep pace any longer. 

[September 28 | 6:12 PM]

Geralt wasn’t working but had ended up at Kaer Mocha anyway. He’d grabbed a coffee and scone after work, and Yennefer had joined him not long after. Their friendship had changed over the years, it was easy between them. Long gone were the days of people convincing them they’d be a great couple (a few awkward dates and they’d decided they’d be better off friends,) Yennefer didn’t push Geralt into talking, and Geralt didn’t try to dictate her emotions the way others once had. 

He loved that she’d fallen in love with Jaskier, that the two of them were some of the happiest people Geralt knew. On the outside, people didn’t know what to make of their relationship, there were always those surprised to find out that they were married. It made perfect sense to Geralt. They balanced, pushed, and guided each other depending on what the other needed at any given time. 

Jaskier had always loved loud, but Yennefer loved no less even if she wasn’t as showy about it. 

When Jaskier emerged from the back, he went directly to Yennefer as if no one else existed. He leaned down to kiss her. “Lambert let me off early.” He turned to Geralt like an afterthought. “Surprised you’re still here.” 

“Cerys brought over fresh scones,” Geralt said with a shrug. 

“Are you sure you’re not just hoping Mr Var Emries shows up.” 

Geralt raised a brow. “Why would I?” 

“We should be going,” Yennefer gently pushed Jaskier back, allowing her to stand. “Have a good evening, Geralt.” 

He just gave the couple a little wave as Yennefer led the giggling Jaskier to the door. 

He finished his coffee and was about to leave when Cirilla walked in. She had a thin folder hugged to her chest, her hair pulled back in a braid, her eyes looking over the area as she shifted from foot to foot. Nervous energy. Her eyes locked onto his and she straighted up, shoulders back as she approached. 

“I heard Kaer Mocha is hiring part-time.” 

“Uh, yeah.” He gestured to the seat across from him and she sat down. “Mostly afternoon and weekend shifts.” 

She set down the folder and pushed it across. Cover letter and resume. Geralt always thought it was a little silly to expect it of teenagers. She had a few babysitting references, names he didn’t recognize and were likely from wherever she’d lived before moving to Destiny. More words like ‘team player’ and ‘hard-working’ were used. 

“Cirilla.” 

“Just Ciri, please.” 

“Alright, Ciri. Can you come in Monday at five for training?” 

“Really? Just like that? You didn’t even ask me where I see myself in five years.” 

“You’re what, sixteen?” he asked and she nodded. “Pretty sure whatever plan you’re making now at sixteen will change in five years, either by choice or not.” God knew his life hadn’t turned out the way he’d expected when he’d been young. “So, do you want the job?” 

“Yes.” 

“And can you come in Monday after school?” 

“Yes.” 

“Alright, you’re hired.” 

Ciri smiled wide. “Thank you!” 

Chapter Text

[October 2 | 10:01 AM]

The lull after the morning rush was welcome. Jaskier sipped at his cold brew and chatted with Geralt a bit. Lambert had been a little on edge after Geralt had hired Ciri without consulting him, but Jaskier adored the girl already. She was responsible, a quick study, made a good cup of coffee and liked some of his favourite bands. 

The bell above the door pulled them from their conversation and Jaskier turned to greet their new patron only to nearly drop his drink in shock. “Pris!”

“Hey, Jaskier.” 

His mind raced at the sight of her, one of his oldest friends who spent most of her time traveling around the world was finally right here in front of him. And also, very pregnant. He set his drink aside and rushed through the kitchen door. She smiled and held her arms open and he walked right into them, hugging her tight. “I’ve missed you so much.” 

“I’ve missed you, too.” Priscilla was smiling when he pulled back. 

“So, we have some catching up to do,” he said, pointedly looking at her stomach. 

She laughed. “Yeah. When are you off?” 

“Four.”

“I’ll come back around then. I still need to check into the motel—“

“Nonsense, stay with me and Yenna, we have a guest room.” 

“I don’t want to intrude—“

Jaskier scoffed at the thought. They’d grown up in the same neighbourhood, their parents had been close friends, which ensured they’d hung out so frequently that it had been odd to see one without the other. They’d shared a tent in the backyard, shared toys, shared those small kiddie pools. “It’s not an intrusion if you’re invited.” 

“Well, okay, if you insist.” 

“Oh, I do.” He turned then to Geralt. “You remember Geralt, right?” 

Geralt leaned on the top of the glass display case. “Hey, Priscilla.” 

She smiled at him. “I knew we’d be meeting again, Geralt. Good to see you.” 

“You too,” he replied. “Can I get you anything?” 

“I know it’s basic, but I’d love a decaf pumpkin spiced latte.” 

“Don’t worry, Geralt is the most basic bitch there is,” Jaskier teased and earned himself the middle finger in return. 

[October 2 | 6:18 PM]

Yennefer had told Jaskier that she had to help Corinne with something. He was pretty sure it was bullshit and she was just giving him time to catch up with Priscilla one-on-one. He was thankful for it. 

He worked on chopping vegetables while Priscilla sat on the stool on the other side of the counter. “Last I heard, you were in Paris.”

“It was beautiful, since then I went to a music workshop retreat in BC, did some song writing with an old friend in Dublin, did a couple of gigs along the west coast and then—uh, may have crashed a wedding while vacationing with a few friends in Hawaii. It was massive, like three hundred guests, we figured no one would notice a few more.”

He laughed. “How did it go?” 

“I met this guy and we had a lot of fun there. Oh my God, he asked me how I knew the bride or groom and I was sweating. I tell him that I’m the plus one for one of the groom’s cousins, because like, I’ve known you forever and I can’t name one of your cousin’s y’know. But this motherfucker, he’s like ‘oh, which one?’” 

The knife was idle, Jaskier far too invested in the story. “So, what did you tell him?” 

“I panicked, I said ‘Jack.’” She covered her face with her hands while he laughed. “I don’t know, it’s a common name!” Her hands dropped to the counter. “Turns out, this guy is a cousin of the groom and knows the family, right? The gig is up!”

“Did you get kicked out?”

“No. He thought it was funny.” She smiled. “We ended up dancing a bit, one thing led to another and then we were having sex in the coat room. I’ll spare you the details, but this one because it’s important to the story, so I’m back against the wall, dress hiked up and at the time I didn’t notice, but after we realize that the back of my dress got caught on a nail at the waist and the fabric is hanging and showing my whole ass. So I’m panicking, because am I just supposed to walk back to my hotel room holding the back of my dress up the whole way?” 

Jaskier resumed chopping. “What did you do?”

“Letho gave me the coat for his suit to tie around my waist and then he escorted me back to my hotel. Didn’t follow me to my room or any of that creepy bullshit, just made sure I got to the lobby okay. We exchanged numbers, kept in touch.”

“Is he…”

“The baby daddy? Yeah.” Priscilla ran her hand over the bump. “I’m six and a half months in. I didn’t know what to do when I first found out. I was on the pill, it shouldn’t have happened but I was sick earlier in the month and I might have missed a few…or a week of them and then boom, missed period, four pregnancy tests later.” She sighed. “I didn’t even tell Letho until after the first trimester, I mean, I was out of the country a bit and it just…it didn’t feel real. I was a bit late getting in with my doctor for the first ultrasound and then—I mean I was looking at a picture and hearing a heartbeat and then it was real, y’know.” 

“How did he take it?”

“Surprisingly well. We had more fights about my lifestyle. I love songwriting and travelling for it.” She shrugged. “But I suppose he’s right, I’m not taking a baby on flights with me halfway around the world. He wants me to move in with him, he has a house an hour or so from here. It’s near you, which is nice, but it’s pretty far from my family and most of my friends. He has a security company with a friend of his, it’s doing well, but it’s not like money’s ever been an issue for me. Should I just buy my own house nearby? What if we hate living together?” 

“Have you two been seeing much of each other during the pregnancy?” 

“I visit now and then. He once came out to one my little gigs in a neighbouring state so I mean, that’s some dedication. We talk a lot on the phone and video calls make it easier when I’m out of the country.” She sighed. “I do like him. A lot. And the sex is great, big fan of that.” 

He shook his head. 

She drew little patterns with her fingertip on the counter. “Last time I was there, he showed me the nursery he’d set up. It’s so fucking cute. I’ve never wanted to settle down and now I’m imagining a life with this guy that I fucked at a wedding, got pregnant with, and have known for less than a year. Am I crazy?” 

Jaskier shook his head. “Nah, not crazy, just in love.” 

[October 4 | 2:46 PM]

Corinne didn’t have another reading until three thirty, and The Last Wish had been quiet all day. She spent her break in Kaer Mocha, sipping on an apple cinnamon tea and reading a mystery novel. 

Her attention shifted when the door chimed. She looked over her book as Emhyr walked in, then glanced to the side to see Geralt at the register. Her table was in the perfect position to eavesdrop. How exciting! She tried to at least pretend to read the book but her attention was fully on Emhyr as he approached the counter. 

“Hello, Geralt,” he said. 

“Hey.” 

Emhyr made a show of examining some of the desserts from Wolfish Appetites in the glass case. “Do you have any plans for the weekend?” 

Oh my God, he was working his way up to asking Geralt out! What about the lady that Keira and Lambert had seen him kiss? Geralt couldn’t possibly be oblivious enough to miss the interest. 

“Helping Yennefer with inventory, she always gets me to help on the heavy lifting. Something, something, you own the place. Other than that, not much,” Geralt shrugged. “You?”

“Well, I’ve been informed that there is this pumpkin walk here that is quite spectacular, some very talented artists on display.” 

“It’s impressive. I’ve gone a couple years,” Geralt said. “Lambert even participates some time.” 

Emhyr was going to ask Geralt to the pumpkin walk! Corinne remembered to flip a page even if her eyes weren’t on it at all. 

“I don’t mind covering Ciri’s shift if you wanted to take her.” 

Geralt, you idiot.

Emhyr looked confused, and Corinne thought for a second that he’d just spell it out for Geralt. He then smiled, shook his head. “Sure, I guess the girls will enjoy it.” 

“Do you want your usual?” Geralt asked, glancing down at the touch screen on the register. 

“You know my usual?” the flirting tone was back in Emhyr’s voice. 

Geralt shrugged. “I have a good memory. I know the standard order for most regulars.” He took payment and got to making the drink. 

Corinne felt like hitting her head off the table. Geralt could be so smart, and yet, so dumb. 

Geralt passed the coffee over the counter. “Have a good one.” 

“You, too.” 

Corinne shook her head, finished her drink, and went off to find Triss—she had to tell someone about this disaster! 

[October 5 | 1:30 PM]

Lambert had received a text from Keira an hour ago begging for coffee. He’d sent back that he’d bring some over when they got another lull. Once it quieted down enough that he felt okay leaving Ciri alone for a few minutes, he made the coffees for Keira and Corinne and walked out with them. 

Autumn was really settling in, the air crisp and cool. It was a nice change from the unrelenting heat of the summer months. 

He turned at the door to The Last Wish and used his back to push it open, keeping the coffees in hand level.

No one was at the front desk, but that wasn’t surprising. Corinne was likely doing some kind of reading and that left Keira to help any customers. He set the coffees down on the desk but wanted to give at least one of the women a heads up that they’d been delivered. He heard Keira’s laugh from somewhere in the back shelves, he followed the sound but paused halfway there. 

She was flirting with someone. 

He knew they weren’t exclusive. They weren’t a couple, they were both firm on just being friends-with-benefits, no ties, no bullshit. 

He’d never been the jealous type. 

But he was now. 

He walked over, coming around the shelves to see a well dressed man with a couple of books in hand. Lambert hated him on sight. He couldn’t help but throw an arm over Keira’s shoulders. “Hey babe, your coffee is on the front desk.” 

A moment of irritation expressed on her face before a small curve to her lips. Fuck, this would be a conversation later. “Thanks, honeybun.” He was sure the recoil from the pet name showed on his face, especially since Keira grinned wickedly at him. “Now, shouldn’t you be getting back to work?” 

“I’ll see you tonight,” he said. 

The look in her eyes worried him. “Oh, yes you will.”