During his military days, Geralt had faced many crises, all far more immediate and dangerous than the prospect of having a baby. He'd been deployed to numerous warzones, taken part in countless dangerous reconnaissance missions and raids, and had been in more sticky situations than he cared to remember. He'd been through a lot in the thirty-nine years he'd been walking this earth, yet he'd always come out the other end relatively unscathed, which he was thankful for on a daily basis. One would think that with all of these experiences under his belt, pregnancy would be a walk in the park by comparison. On the contrary, Geralt had never been more terrified in his life.

Not that his military experience had left him completely ill-prepared. One of the major benefits of serving was learning fear-management techniques; they were essential for survival in combat situations and should stand him in good stead with his current predicament. Geralt had always been a firm advocate of facing your fears head-on—avoiding things only ever made things worse. Geralt knew that he would adapt however he needed to in order to take care of this child, and if that meant raising it alone, so be it. That didn't, however, make the prospect of doing so any less daunting. But confronting Jaskier earlier that evening had helped alleviate a lot of the fears that he'd built up in his own mind—although he had been fully prepared for Jaskier to reject him, he was relieved beyond words that he hadn't.

He was still shit-scared about the whole thing, but he felt like he could handle it a little better now knowing that Jaskier was on board. Going home and cleaning his flat from top to bottom had helped, too. He'd always found completing simple tasks to be an excellent stress-reliever as it helped him feel more in control of his environment—at least, for a little while. After he'd run out of things to clean and tidy, he began rearranging the books on his shelves, then refolded all of his clothes. It occurred to him then that he'd need to buy everything in a bigger size soon and he added shopping for paternity clothes to his ever-growing list of things to do.

Once he ran out of things to do, he got ready for bed and spent the next couple of hours flicking through the bundle of baby books Yen had lent him. He'd rolled his eyes when he'd read the title of the first book, Give Birth Like a Feminist, but the contents were surprisingly useful; they highlighted the importance of birth plans to human rights, with a particular emphasis on the rights of Omegas.

When his eyes began to feel sore and itchy from tiredness, Geralt tossed the book onto the bedside table, switched off the lamp and turned onto his side, staring into the darkness as his thoughts returned to Jaskier. He'd been surprised at how well Jaskier had taken the news. He had braced himself for a plethora of responses—denial, anger, confusion, even a few tears wouldn't have surprised him—but despite the initial shock, Jaskier seemed to have taken the news rather well. Perhaps a little too well.

To be honest, Jaskier's calm and understanding demeanour had annoyed Geralt a little bit. Which was a silly reaction to have, he knew that. But when Geralt had first realised that he was pregnant, he'd been so angry—a little bit angry with Jaskier because he was the other culprit in this mess, but mostly with himself for allowing this to happen in the first place. Once the initial anger had receded, the fear had set in, and that was proving to be more challenging to get past. He still wanted the kid, no doubt about it, but it had taken him some time to calm down and be able to think through his options before coming to that decision. Jaskier, meanwhile, seemed to be taking the whole thing in his stride.

Geralt sighed and rolled onto his back. Well, he supposed that should be a reassuring sign. Although, he couldn't help but feel a bit embarrassed at how badly he reacted to the news by comparison. Geralt struggled to get to sleep that night, and just when he was beginning to finally doze off, he jerked awake again with the sound of his phone vibrating across his bedside table. He reached blindly for the phone and squinted trying to see who the fuck was calling him at this hour, his eyes stinging from the bright LED light of his screen. When Jaskier's name popped up on the screen, Geralt's stomach dropped. Answering the call, he pressed the phone to his ear.

"Hello?"

"Helloooooooo?" a clearly inebriated voice replied. "Geralt? Hey-ho, you answered my call! It's me—it's Jaskier! How you doin'?"

"Do you know what time it is?" he croaked.

"Uhh…" After a short pause, Jaskier answered. "It's half-past two in the morning. Did I wake you up?"

"Yes."

"Ah, bugger. Sorrysorrysorry," he rambled. "Sorry to bother you but I reeeeeeally need to talk to you. Are you busy?"

"I was busy sleeping before you called," Geralt grumbled, flopping onto his back, but Jaskier was only half-listening.

"Coolcoolcool. Look, I have to tell you something. It's important. No, it's imperative that I tell you this immediately. Because tomorrow morning, I'll be too sober to be honest with you, so I'm doing it now while I'm blind brave and drunk."

Geralt knew that he should just hang up then and call Jaskier in the morning, but his curiosity got the better of him, so he closed his eyes and sighed. "Okay."

"Listen," Jaskier slurred. "We—you and me—are gonna be daddies, right?"

"Mmmhmm."

"Right. And babies are like...huge. I mean, not physically huge, they're really very small—and fragile. Very squidgy and small but they break easy, so we must be very careful not to break them. I've already promised Triss that I won't drop this one, and I'll try my best not to screw them up too much. I mean, I'll try— they'll probably still need years of therapy with me as their father, and I'm not sure how I'm gonna afford that since I barely earn enough to pay my rent right now, but I'll figure it out. Don't you worry, whatever happens, I just want you to know that I will provide for you and the baby. Hold on, I need to pee."

Geralt groaned and rubbed his face as he listened to the rustling and clanging sounds of Jaskier stumbling through a house, no doubt bumping into things, as he made his way to the bathroom. When he eventually heard the toilet flush, Jaskier spoke again.

"Shit. Hello? You still there?"

"I'm still here," Geralt replied. "So, was that what you wanted to tell me? That you needed to take a piss and you won't drop the baby?"

"Whaaa?" he slurred. "Oh, no. No, I just wanted to tell you that I've been thinking a lot and I realised something—that I am a selfish person."

Geralt frowned. "What?"

"I mean, I don't think that I'm an evil person, but on the inside, I know that I am a selfish person," Jaskier continued, his voice sounding strained now. "My own comfort and ambitions have always come first and...and this selfishness in me, it's the opposite of love. And I'm supposed to love this baby —because they need it— but I...I don't know how I'm going to be able to love something that much, as much as it needs me to. And then I start thinking, if I can't love it enough, and I can't even afford to give it a decent life, what the hell am I doing? I don't feel like I have anything to offer you or this baby. I work shitty jobs that don't pay well, I'm up to my eyeballs in debt, I'm just a mess—a sad, drunken mess that's probably getting on your nerves telling you all of this. I probably shouldn't be telling you this. Sorry, I'm drunk. Urgh, I've drank way too much. I'm gonna feel like shit tomorrow."

Jaskier fell silent and Geralt took a moment to process the admission. "Jaskier, I think it would be better if we talked about this in the morning."

"Yeah, probably," he mumbled. "Sorry to bother you. I'm just scared I'm gonna fuck this up."

"It's fine." Geralt hesitated before admitting, "I know you probably won't remember me saying this come morning, but I have a lot of the same concerns."

"Really?" said Jaskier hopefully. "You're not just saying that to make me feel less bad?"

"Definitely not," he assured him. "To be honest, it makes me feel better knowing that you're freaking out about this as much as I am."

"You don't look like you're freaking out."

"I've got a very convincing poker face," he confided. "Comes in handy in my line of work."

"You know, you still haven't told me what you do for work," said Jaskier in an accusatory tone. "You're built like a tank, you're obviously rich and you're super sneaky secretive about yourself." Jaskier lowered his voice and he murmured, "If you're like, a spy, or something, you can tell me. I won't tell anyone. Well, except for Triss, but you can trust her. She's the one that bought me that shirt of mine that you like so much. She's passed out next to me at the moment, not that you needed to know that. And she's the one that said I should call you and tell you how I feel, so really this is her fault."

Geralt couldn't help but smile. Triss sounded like Jaskier's version of Yen. "Sorry to disappoint you, but I'm not a spy."

"Mmm, disappointing," he sighed. "Wait a minute. If you were actually a spy, then obviously you would deny it. So are you a spy?"

"Goodnight, Jaskier."

"Geralt…"

"Yes?"

"I just wanted to say that I think you're really brave," he said sincerely. "Even if you're not a spy. And that's not the drink talking, I really mean it. I'm not as brave as you but I'm gonna be there for you and the baby, mark my words."

"Thank you."

"I also wanted to say that you really did look very sexy tonight," he continued. "Your biceps looked like they were gonna rip through your shirt. How do you even get your arms that big? You must lift dumbbells in your sleep or something."

"Thanks."

"Your arse looked lovely, too," he added. "Not important, I know, but it had to be said."

"I'm hanging up now."

"Alright then. G'night."

Geralt ended the call and rolled onto his side again. Well, hadn't that drunken phone call been enlightening? Evidently, Jaskier wasn't immune to the same fears that he was having. Now that was reassuring.