Chapter Text
Tuesday, August 24
A chipper voice calls out as Eskel veers to the left out of the classroom and starts down the dull beige hallway, his work boots scuffing against the dark mottled carpet.
"Have a wonderful day!"
Slowing, he looks over his shoulder. Standing just to the right of the door he'd come from is a bright man whose arms are fully occupied balancing a stack of stapled papers, a gallon-sized ziplock bag full of yellow Starbursts, a cell phone, and an obnoxiously large iced coffee. He wears a toothy smile, dipping his head slightly in greeting.
Eskel just gives him a quick nod before continuing on his way.
***
Thursday, August 26
The basement of the library is, generally, where the university schedules classes that can't fit well into whatever building they would normally be in because it is inevitably already fully booked out for the semester. Or when the administration simply decides it's the easiest place to drop a last-minute addition/change to the courses offered. The latter is why Eskel has the pleasure of hosting his Animal Conservation lecture in room 0009 of the library instead of the science center every Tuesday and Thursday from 9:30 to 10:45 in the morning.
It isn't often that he finds himself in the library, even after nearly five years teaching here. It's not that he dislikes it- especially not with the coffee shop on the main floor, filling the stairwells with the rich scent of espresso every morning- it's just that he's usually stationed in the Krantz Science Center, which is much more modern and bright, and, well, having to come to this side of campus is just new , and new always feels weird . Plus, the excuse it gives him to get an overpriced coffee twice a week instead of just getting a cheap one from the Health Professions building's little grab-and-go bodega? Sure, his taste buds may like it but his wallet certainly won't by the time the semester ends, so there’s that too.
Regardless, Eskel finds himself navigating the just slightly-too-narrow sidewalks interconnecting the various parts of campus, weaving around groggy students and outdoor trash cans and the occasional brave squirrel as he goes. The morning sun is just high enough to peek over the trees and buildings and shine directly into his eyes, forcing him to squint against the light. He's only half as caffeinated as he ought to be by this hour, and really, the sun should just politely fuck off for now.
Luckily, the trek to morning classes is usually uneventful. The guy that's taken to playing the bagpipes under the trees around the Quad doesn't show up until around 1:00, it's too early for people to stop in the middle of the path to chat with passing friends, and no student involvement activities ever start until 11:00 at the earliest.
All that stands between Eskel and his lecture is fifteen minutes, sidewalks that really could've been made straight instead of curvy, and the girl walking her cocker spaniel in front of him.
So, he just walks. He squints against the sun, listens to the birds chittering and hopping between branches overhead, and walks. One hand grips the strap of the leather bag that's slung over his shoulder, the other busy worrying his bottom lip between his fingers absentmindedly.
Maybe it’s time to invest in some chapstick if his peeling lips are ever to smooth over. Triss always did say he should be using sunscreen when he's out working. Yes, Eskel, everywhere the sun shines. Maybe he'll look into it later. If he happens to remember, or actually feels like stopping by the store. If you're not careful, the sun will give you wrinkles early, and dry you out.
Maybe.
As Eskel approaches the looming building that is the Fidháil Library, the damned sun finally hiding away behind it as he nears, the sliding doors release a gust of cool air that is a welcome reprieve from the late August heat. He finds himself exhaling a sigh as he steps inside, hand dropping away from his lips and going for his wallet as he turns toward the coffee shop to the right.
Even if he does just order a plain black coffee, the dimly lit café somehow makes it taste better than the instant roast he makes at home. He doesn't care to solve the mystery as to why.
What he does do though is head down the nearest staircase into the basement. It's noticeably quieter than the common hall above, where a lounge on one end of the building plays music in sync with the café on the other, and a second set of sliding doors into the library-proper constantly slide open and closed again as people move past them.
The basement isn't anything special. Eskel finds it easy enough to navigate, especially given that there are only twenty-something classrooms. The walls are painted a boring tan, the carpets are a mix of colors scattered upon a dark brown base, and even the lounge furniture grouped about in otherwise empty spaces is just sort of plain. The classrooms match, for the most part, with the addition of world maps hanging in a few.
There's also less traffic down here, as it's mainly a backup space for classes. Not many are ever hosted down here at the same time.
Room 0009 is empty and dark when he arrives, just like it was last time, and he steps inside the open door and flips the lights on without issue. Well, except the one in the corner that flickers a few times before it fully illuminates, but it works so it doesn't really matter in the end.
His leather satchel clunks onto the wooden tabletop of the rolling metal desk as he slides into the too-low seat and clicks on the computer, taking a slow sip of his coffee. It tastes like it's worth the four dollars that he spent, and he can't complain.
What he can complain about though, is the time it takes for the computer to start up, and also the loud whhrr of the overhead projector as it powers on up above.
Breaking the peaceful silence of an empty classroom in the morning has always been something he can't quite grow to like, no matter how hard he tries (which is to say, not very hard at all). He can stand the noise and is used to having something in the background a majority of the time, but the fleeting moments of pure quiet are always nice.
Still, the computer does eventually come to life, and he pulls his single page of lecture notes from his bag, and by the time he's downed half of his coffee the first few students have begun to trickle in, bringing with them contagious yawns and various flavors of coffee smells. That, Eskel thinks, is something he doesn't mind.
The lecture itself, once it begins (four minutes late), is rather mundane. Being the second meeting of the class and the first that isn't focused mainly on the syllabus, it’s more or less just an introduction to the topic.
The question "what is conservation?" appears on the slideshow projected on the wall, and Eskel answers it himself rather than torturing the students and calling on them for interpretations. He does that with a majority of the questions posed, actually. Always has. He never liked having to answer them when he was a student, so he doesn't bother trying to pry interactions from the tired young adults slumped over their notebooks.
By the time the topic has shifted to indirect conservation he's rolling the sleeves of his red flannel up his forearms just to do something with his hands. The first two weeks are always his least favorite. They're boring and monotonous. Nothing really interesting or thought-provoking. Just the beginnings of what will be a long few months where he often finds himself as bored as most of the students surely are.
Doesn’t matter though. The lecture comes to a close soon enough, wrapping up a few minutes before the scheduled release time, as his classes always tend to. If how quickly the students vacate the room means anything, he hopes it's that they appreciate the extra time he gives them and not that they're running to go drop the class immediately. Though, he guesses he might understand if it’s the latter, honestly.
The last two students file out the door as he's shoving his notes back into his bag, crumpling them in the process, and the computer makes a noise on the "signing out* screen that it displays. No sooner has he pulled the bag over his shoulder than a body shuffles into the room. Looking up, a hand grabbing for what's left of his coffee, he meets the light blue eyes of the man from the hallway last time. He looks just as bright as before.
"Good morning!" He singsongs, shifting his weight left to right and left again as he cradles a binder, textbook, and a bag full of gold-foil chocolate coins in one arm, and holds a very pink iced drink in the other. "What are you drinking this fine day?"
Eskel, glancing down at the nearly empty cardboard cup in his hand, furrows his brows. "Coffee?"
This earns him a single laugh as the man breezes across the room and dumps his armful of supplies onto the desk, standing on the opposite side from Eskel. "Well that much I figured, yes."
He takes a sip from his own cup, eyeing Eskel over the rim. There's still a smile in his pale eyes, even with his mouth hidden, and what is hard to interpret as anything other than an amused little squint. Not knowing exactly what the man’s expecting, Eskel raises his brows in question. After a beat of silence the man lowers his cup and rolls his eyes, "I meant what kind of coffee, Professor…"
Another moment of silence passes as Eskel watches the man put his cup down and brush a hand through his brown hair, sweeping it off his forehead for only a moment before it flops back into place.
"Morhen," Eskel blurts, having realized he was meant to introduce himself, not just stand there like a buffoon. "Eskel. Eskel Morhen."
And with a fleeting glance to the coffee cup in his hand, "And it's just coffee. Uh, normal coffee, I guess. Black."
"Right," the other nods, paying no mind to the way Eskel stumbles over his words. "Well, that certainly wouldn't be my order of choice, but to each their own, I suppose. If you decide to get adventurous though, the baristas upstairs have concocted a drink called the Poison Apple- apple juice with caramel, cinnamon, and cold foam- and oh , let me tell you Professor Morhen, it is delightful ." His hand shoots out across the desk, offering a handshake, "But anyway, I'm Jaskier. Wonderful to meet you. I'm sure we'll be seeing a lot of each other this semester. I'm in this room after you are on Tuesdays and Thursdays, it seems."
Eskel moves his coffee from his right to left hand, accepting the offered shake with a quick up-down and a thin-lipped smile. He doesn’t mention that he really has no idea what cold foam is, and instead opts to be polite.
"Well, Jaskier, it's nice to meet you too," he nods, "I'll try not to take my lectures over my time."
He never does, but it feels like a nice thing to say. Very professoral , if that is indeed a word.
"Oh not to worry, I've been known to ramble on and hold students for an extra few minutes often enough. I could hardly blame you for doing the same. Besides, it doesn't seem that we're exactly crunched for time, fighting for this space," Jaskier turns to address the still otherwise empty room, his arms sweeping through the air. They do have a ten-minute buffer between classes, on top of the extra time Eskel gave off his own. "What are you teaching though, if you don't mind me asking?"
"In here, animal conservation. I've got classes on behavioral ecology and bird biology this semester too, though." Eskel shrugs, "Nothing too exciting."
He will be dissecting birds in that last class, but that’s best saved for another time.
"A man of science!" Jaskier lights up, planting his hands on the desk and leaning over it. There's a look in his eyes that Eskel can't quite place. "It's not often they put your lot in the library, you know. What with your need for lab equipment and sterile spaces. Perhaps you'll have to indulge me and allow me to sit in on a lecture someday."
"I mean, if you want," he shrugs a shoulder, sparing a glance at the clock above the door. Animal conservation isn’t the most entertaining subject, even to him, but he isn’t one to refuse a curious mind. "You’ll know where to find me if you want to sit in. I do probably need to be heading out for now though. Y'know, office hours and all that."
Jaskier straightens with a nod and flaps a hand in the air as if shooing him, "Yes, yes, of course. Don't let me keep you. I'll have plenty of chances to talk your ear off before we break for winter, I'm sure. Now go, before my students start to show up and try to distract me with questions about the big, tall, casually dressed man in the room."
Eskel, for what it's worth, isn't much taller than Jaskier. Bigger, yes, he's always had a wide frame- and well, he guesses he does dress more casually than most professors do, in his flannel shirts and jeans. A look down at himself, and then to Jaskier, has him feeling a little self-conscious. The other man is wearing a blue dress shirt and grey plaid pants, and his shirt is even tucked in. Eskel’s just hangs open to reveal a plain black t-shirt underneath.
Well, it hasn't gotten him in trouble yet.
"Right," he shakes his head, moving from behind the desk, "Have a good day."
"And you as well, Eskel Morhen," Jaskier swiftly takes his place behind the desk, leaning over the keyboard to log in to the computer. "I'll be seeing you!"
Eskel moves through the door with a small nod, turning to the left and starting down the hall like he did on Tuesday.
***
If Eskel goes out of his way Friday morning to order a Poison Apple in the library’s coffee shop? Well… he's just craving apple juice, really.
***
Eskel, decisively, does not like the Poison Apple.
He also still doesn’t know exactly what cold foam is, but he doesn’t think he likes that either.
He finishes the nearly six-dollar drink anyway, because paying nearly six dollars only to not drink it would be a waste.
Thursday, August 26
Eskel Morhen is, in all apparent aspects, a beautiful specimen of a man.
On Tuesday the backward glance he offered Jaskier had suggested as much, but it holds no candle to standing across from him and getting the full picture.
Sure, he was dressed more like a lumberjack than a professor, and he didn’t seem to fully understand what was happening at first when Jaskier flitted into the room and started asking questions, but oh his voice , it was so deep and smooth. To sit through his lectures must be a blessing. And his eyes? Such a striking amber- if that’s how they looked under the bland fluorescent lights of the classroom he can only imagine the color reflecting the late summer sun.
His firm but gentle handshake, and the way one sleeve of his flannel shirt had started to slide down his forearm before he left…
Jaskier will admit that he's always been quick to spot an attractive man- an attractive an y one , actually- and latch onto the idea of them for a week or so. He hadn't expected to find this week's focus at 10:45 AM in the basement of the library, but, well, he can't say it's the weirdest place thus far.
Luckily, being a man of many talents and great charisma, Jaskier knows how to use his short infatuations to his benefit. To conjure up a beautiful poem dedicated to a lover's beauty, or a quiet lullaby that plucks the heartstrings just so. He also knows when to leave well enough alone and avoid trying to bed a coworker for the sake of his continued employment.
For the most part.
That is to say, it may not be easy on his wayward heart, but he can certainly do it if need be.
But! There is no rule preventing two professors from engaging in flirtatious relations and private affairs. No, they can, if they so choose. Jaskier just has to avoid the professors that don't take so kindly to his advances.
And Professor Eskel Morhen… Well, Jaskier didn't see a ring on his finger, and he hadn't seemed off-put by his promises of continued interaction. That's a start, if nothing else. If he's lucky, it's a jumping-off point into sometime spectacular that involves those strong, calloused hands popping open the buttons of his shirt and--
And maybe Jaskier should focus on opening up his powerpoint.
***
Oh, and the curved scars lining his face? Surely they tell a tragic backstory. Jaskier can already see himself dabbing away tears as the man pours his heart out over a lovely dinner.
This lecture is important though- he shouldn't let his mind wander.
***
His lecture does go a few minutes over its scheduled time, and he does leave with a considerably lighter bag of chocolate coins, but his students were active and engaged and that's all he could hope for.
Jaskier knows that, for all his (heavily debated) flaws, he has always been excellent with an audience. It lends well to the open mic nights he likes to go to on the weekends, and the theatre productions he likes to take part in, and of course to ensure that students actually enjoy the class that they're paying to attend.
Jaskier was a college student not too long ago. He knows the pain they endure all too well. The three therapy dogs that Oxenfurt liked to bring in during finals week for a " Paws and Play " event were not enough to quell the wave of stress that comes with students struggling to remember what their professor said three months ago.
Making class memorable is not only better for the students, but fun for the teacher, so Jaskier quite enjoys sitting down and putting together slideshows that are needlessly decorated, and doesn't mind spending a few dollars to provide rewards for engagement. So he loves it when students come up to ask questions after class! And he loves to answer them thoroughly, too, because he loves the topics he teaches about.
But of course, that means he's in a rush to make it to his next class on time, speedwalking to the next building over, finding a few students already inside the classroom waiting around on their phones. It's… a bit stressful sometimes, yes, but it's worth it.
Even if he goes overtime in that next class as well, and ends up having to wait in what feels like a mile-long line for his lunch afterward. At least that gives him a moment to breathe and look at his phone (um, that's a Tinder message he'll be ignoring) and listen to the world around him instead of the near-constant buzz of thoughts in his head. That last bit is always the hardest part, but he still tries anyway. Giving yourself time to be mindful is good for the brain. He's pretty sure he read that once.
The pasta he orders when the line in front of him eventually disappears is mediocre, but that's to be expected. The breadstick that comes with it is too dry, as they usually are here. The slice of blueberry pie he gets is pretty good though, even if it isn't the best match with the main course.
It's all terribly overpriced anyway. He really doesn't know why he bothers coming to the university's cafeteria when he could just as easily get fast food on the way home. He only teaches two classes, so he's done for the day.
Maybe it's just his short attention span. He'll blame that. Yeah.
He does decide to head home after he's finished his mediocre pasta and nice pie, standing from the little one-person table he sat himself at and dusting off his shirt. He carefully piles up his things in his left arm and picks up his tray with the other hand, carefully rolling from heel to toe as he walks it to the constantly moving deposit station. Not even a stray napkin flies off.
Jaskier is much less careful on the way out of the building and to the correct parking lot, though. He weaves haphazardly around students, passing a few up with his quick pace, and smiles at those that actually look at him.
The grating sound of bagpipes fills the air with music that he would never consider pleasant, but he shan't let that get in the way of the nice weather and cooling breeze. As he strays further from the Quad, that unfortunate noise fades, and he easily overpowers it by whistling a different tune.
Oh, he loathes that bagpipe player. Curse Valdo Marx for telling that student to practice daily. If Jaskier didn't already have reason to hate him, that would have been enough.
He may be able to respect the cultural significance of the instrument, but really, they could have made it sound just a little less like a crying donkey.
Nevertheless, Jaskier makes it to his little white Prius and slides into the driver's seat with a huff, letting his things drop into the passenger seat.
The car is hot. He wipes the back of his hand over his forehead, pushing his fringe out of the way, and plucks his keys from his pocket to start the car and turn on the blessed air conditioner. It doesn't matter that the dial to change the vent the air comes from is broken, resulting in air coming from all the vents, so long as the car cools off eventually. It's just a small annoyance that he can't let it point at his face at full blast for a moment. Maybe he'll get it fixed one day if he finds the time.
***
It's only a ten-minute drive to his shared apartment on the west side of town. Traffic sometimes makes it twenty minutes, but today it's a measly 12, so Jaskier doesn't feel too bad about how the day is going so far.
Tonight he's meant to play a set at the Rosemary and Thyme, his current favorite bar, and if he's being honest with himself he probably should have practiced the new song he's added to his repertoire a bit longer before promising to play it tonight.
Well, there's no time like the present.
Plucking the bag of chocolate coins from his passenger seat and leaving the rest of the lecture supplies, Jaskier hops out of his car and up the sidewalk to his door, turning the knob without having to unlock it because, of course, his beautiful roommate is home.
Priscilla is lounging sideways on the couch when he walks in, not looking up from her guitar and the laptop she has balanced carefully on her knee as Jaskier breezes by.
"Good afternoon, dearest roommate." The bag of chocolate is dropped onto the kitchen island that divides the room, "You wouldn't believe what I encountered today."
At that, Priscilla looks up, reaching a hand out to keep her laptop from tumbling as Jaskier leans over the back of the couch, resting his chin on his palms.
"Based on the look in your eyes, I can only assume it was a love interest," she smiles knowingly, "And that you'd like my help coming up with a plan to woo them."
Jaskier smiles, "You know me too well. It was indeed a love interest. Though I hadn't yet decided to ask for help with the wooing process, I'm sure I would have eventually."
"Yes, well, it always ends up with you needing my help getting their attention or you needing my help avoiding their wrath, doesn't it?" Priscilla moves to close her laptop, but pauses, "Are you sure this one is safe to woo in the first place? Won't ruin your career and run you out of house and home for trying?"
A noncommittal noise escapes Jaskier as he tilts his head, one corner of his lips turned up. "I'm… fairly certain, yes. No wedding ring, at the very least. Seemed nice enough not to try to get me forcibly removed from campus. A little awkward at first, maybe, but when has that ever stopped me?"
"Jaskier, outright threats are rarely enough to stop you," she finishes her movement to close her laptop, plucking it from her knee and placing it on the coffee table before she reaches out and runs her slim fingers through the hair on the side of Jaskier's head, smiling as he leans into the touch and closes his eyes. "Tell me about them, then."
And, well, Jaskier knows he should be practicing that new song, but he does just adore talking about beautiful people.
"Oh, Pris," he sighs, "He barely said three things, but I may just be in love."
"That's nothing new," she giggles quietly, "What's so special about this one, then?"
Jaskier quiets for a moment, mulling it over in his head. He doesn't know much about the handsome professor he met. "Well," he starts, "He's a science professor. Not my usual type, I admit, but I think he focuses on… Is there a word for animal science? He's teaching Animal Conservation in a classroom right before I teach World Music and Culture."
Priscilla offers a small shrug. Jaskier knows more about science than she does. The word for animal science will remain unknown.
"He seems kind. Perhaps he's a bit on the quiet side, I'm not sure, really, but he's so handsome! He was dressed more like a student than a professor, and he has these scars on his face- I want to know the story of those, Pris! You know I live for backstories!"
"I know," she smooths her hand down his cheek, "Are you going to stalk his internet presence? You know what happened last time you brought up something you wouldn't have known otherwise-"
Jaskier bats her hand away playfully, "Yes, yes, I know. Wasn't the best time. But come on, you know everyone does it. I just do it a little earlier than most, id all."
"Yes, but most people don't admit to it after only talking to the person once."
"I am nothing if not an open book," he straightens, pushing his weight off the couch and letting Priscilla's hand drop away from his cheek, "But yes, now that you mention it, I should look for him on social media. I don't want to bother wooing someone with abysmal political opinions or anything."
"Mhm," Priscilla just nods knowingly. It's happened before, so it's a valid enough excuse, but she also knows that he likes to fawn over pictures more than actually analyze the content.
"Really, I don't think there's all that much that can be planned for this particular woo-ing. I've only ever seen the man twice, both times coming out of his class and into mine. I'll just have small windows of time two days a week, but I think I can make this work." Jaskier rambles, moving across the room to grab his guitar from the chair it's sat in, "I'll simply have to turn up the charm during those few minutes until he can no longer resist and asks to see me outside of work. It can't possibly fail."
"Well-" Priscilla starts to speak, but Jaskier will have none of it.
"No- No, my dear, sweet, Priscilla. I am the master of this game, and you know it. Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going to go to my room and practice for tonight, just as you should continue to."
"Right, right, my apologies," she shakes her head with a smile, "And I'm sure you won't get distracted on your phone at all. You'll stay off of Instagram and Twitter and everything else until tonight, when you post pictures after the show, yes?"
Jaskier, slipping his guitar strap over his head, gives a weak shrug, "You doubt me, do you? Well, I can promise you I will not get distracted by looking up my future husband on social media. If anything, I will do it on purpose during a break. Or perhaps before I begin. That would hardly be a distraction."
One of the little throw pillows from the couch hits him in the back of the head when he turns around to retreat to his room, earning Priscilla a dramatic gasp. "I am holding my guitar, Priscilla!" Jaskier spins on his heel and points a finger at her, poised on the couch innocently. "Watch your back tonight, madame Callonetta, or I may just enact my revenge."
"You've got me absolutely quivering in my boots," she jokes, placing a hand over her heart, "Now go practice."
"You're no fun," Jaskier squints at her, wrinkling his nose, but he turns around and goes into his room anyway.
***
Eskel Morhen does not appear to have an Instagram. Or Twitter. And it's hard to tell if he has Facebook because the only Eskel Morhen that popped up had no profile picture or posts, and only eight friends (none of which Jaskier recognized).
That's not a good sign-- but it's not a bad sign either! Maybe he just doesn't like sharing his life much. Or he isn't tech-savvy.
Either way, Jaskier did spend much too long searching, trying different ways to spell his name and even possible nicknames (Esk was, admittedly, all he could come up with). A last-ditch Google search got him the university Science Center's staff list, and his Rate My Professor page, but not much else. Sadly, his 3 out of 5-star rating doesn't reveal much about his personality. At least his students seem to like him well enough, though.
So, he has a challenge on his hands. He's always loved a bit of a challenge.
***
His set at the Rosemary and Thyme goes well, even with the shortened practice time. He earns a good amount of tips.
Priscilla's set before his was good too. He liked hearing her yelp when he slipped an ice cube down the back of her shirt more, though.
Revenge is a dish best served cold, after all.