The next morning, Geralt had a text message waiting for him from Jaskier that simply read Sorry with a sad face emoji. Geralt replied, assuring him that it was fine, but if Jaskier wanted to talk in the future he'd rather he did it when he was sober. They exchanged a couple of texts throughout the week, mostly Jaskier checking in on Geralt to see how he was feeling or if he needed anything, which Geralt told him he didn't.

Geralt woke the morning of the first ultrasound feeling apprehensive. He hoped that going for his morning run and lifting some weights would help put his mind at ease, but it didn't seem to be working today. Instead, he found himself pacing the flat and checking his watch every couple of minutes. Despite Jaskier's assurances that he would be there, Geralt still had a niggling doubt that he would actually turn up today. But just after ten o'clock, the front door buzzer rang. Still trying not to get his hopes up—it could be the postman buzzing to get into the building—he pressed the answer button.

"Hello?"

"Hey, it's Jaskier."

Relief swept over Geralt then. "Hey. I'll be down in a sec, I just need to put on my shoes."

"Actually, do you mind if I come up for a minute before we head out?"

Geralt frowned. "Uh, sure."

He buzzed Jaskier in and left the front door open for him. A minute later, there was a polite knock at the door and Jaskier stood with his hands behind his back wearing an adorable sheepish expression.

"Morning," he said nervously. "How're you feeling?"

"Like I'm bursting for a piss. I got told that I needed to drink a pint of water an hour before the appointment," he groused. "I see that you decided to wear a coat today."

Jaskier looked down at his navy blue puffer jacket and smiled. "Yeah, I was thinking with my brain this morning."

"That makes a nice change," Geralt quipped.

Jaskier rolled his eyes. "Oh, ha ha. Well, you look nice today. I mean—you always look nice, obviously."

Geralt smirked and pulled on his own winter coat. "You wanted to talk to me about something?"

"Oh. Yeah. Well, I wanted to give you something." Jaskier thrust the something, which turned out to be a bouquet of red roses, towards Geralt. "Here you go."

Geralt stared. "What are those?"

"Flowers."

"I can see that. What are they for?"

"They're for you, of course," Jaskier laughed nervously. "Consider it an apology for my phone call last week. And...well, I just wanted to get them for you—to be nice."

Surprised at the gesture, Geralt took the proffered flowers from Jaskier and turned them over in his hand. Nobody had ever bought him flowers before, so he wasn't entirely sure what to do with them. He sat them on the table by the door and stepped past Jaskier. "We better get a move on or we'll be late."

The Harley Street GP that Geralt had made an appointment with was only a twenty minute walk from the flat, so even though they stopped so Jaskier could grab a coffee, they still arrived in plenty of time. That suited Geralt just fine because he preferred to arrive early for appointments and social events so that he could get the lay of the land. When they arrived outside the handsome whitewash townhouse, Jaskier paused.

"Whoa, we're going in there?" he asked.

"Yes," said Geralt climbing the marble steps. "Why, what's wrong with it?"

"Nothing," Jaskier replied quickly. "I—well, this is just nicer than I expected."

"What were you expecting?" asked Geralt curiously, holding the door open for Jaskier.

"Doesn't matter," Jaskier followed Geralt inside. "Am I allowed to take my coffee in here?"

"They won't mind."

As they sat in the waiting room for their turn to be seen, Geralt watched Jaskier out of the corner of his eye with growing amusement. Jaskier prodded the plush leather couch that he was sitting on and hummed approvingly under his breath.

"You approve?" he asked.

"It's nice," Jaskier acknowledged. "A lot nicer than my GP clinic, the seats there are hard plastic and drilled into the floor. This place definitely isn't state-funded, is it?"

"No," Geralt hesitated before admitting, "Doctor von Gratz was recommended to me by a friend. Omega pregnancies are his specialism."

"Ah, okay," Jaskier nodded in understanding. "Getting someone with his expertise on the NHS would be…"

"Unlikely."

"Gotcha."

Just then, a door to the left opened and an elderly gentleman with short grey hair appeared. "Geralt Roger Eric du Haute-Bellegarde?"

Jaskier pulled a face. "That's your full name?"

"Don't start," Geralt warned, rising to feet.

They entered Doctor von Gratz's office and he beckoned them to take the empty chairs in front of his desk before closing the door behind him. "How can I help you today?"

Geralt glanced at Jaskier before answering. "Well, like I said on the phone, I recently found out that I'm pregnant."

"Congratulations."

"Thanks," he grunted. "My GP said that I should arrange to have an ultrasound done, so…"

"Here we are," Jaskier chipped in brightly.

"Alright then. Geralt, would you join me over here at the examination table and we'll have a look at what's going on, shall we?"

Doctor von Gratz pulled back a curtain at the corner of his office to reveal an examination table and ultrasound equipment. Geralt lay on the table and pulled up his shirt, shivering slightly as the doctor squirted a large dollop of ultrasound gel onto his stomach.

"Uncross your legs, please," he asked. "It'll make it easier to see what's happening. Ready? Okay, here we go…"

Geralt grimaced as the doctor pressed the ultrasound probe onto his stomach. God, why did they make you drink all of that water before doing this? He glanced at Jaskier to find him sitting on the edge of his seat, his eyes fixed on the screen. He looked as nervous as Geralt felt.

"Ah!" the doctor exclaimed. "There we are."

Geralt's head whipped back around to look at the screen. "What?"

"There," Doctor von Gratz pointed to a dark blob on the screen. "That's the amniotic sac, and that…" he moved his finger down towards the grey, fuzzy blob inside the sac. "...is the embryo. You can see the head here and the spine...and that is the heartbeat."

"Oh my god," Jaskier croaked.

"Fuck," Geralt whispered. "I really am pregnant, then?"

"Yup! About nine or ten weeks, I'd say. Congratulations."

Geralt stared at the screen. To be honest, he wasn't entirely sure what the hell he was looking at, but then something that looked suspiciously like a hand appeared to wave at him. "Is that a hand?"

"It is," the doctor smiled. "Lots of movement like that is a good sign. It's still too early in the pregnancy for you to feel it, but you should start to feel the baby move between sixteen and twenty-four weeks." He turned to Jaskier and asked, "Would your husband like to take a closer look?"

"We're not married," said Geralt quickly.

"Yeah, we're not—I'm just the father," Jaskier stammered.

"That's alright," the doctor assured him. "You're welcome to come and take a closer look if you'd like. Come on, you don't have to be shy."

Jaskier hesitated before getting to his feet and moving to Geralt's side. His eyes were as wide as saucers as he stared at the screen. "Shit. This is really happening, isn't it?"

"That it is," the doctor confirmed. "Let me print out a couple of pictures for you both."

The good doctor was kind enough to let Geralt use his toilet immediately after the examination was concluded. He arranged for Geralt to come back in a few weeks for a follow-up scan, took a couple of blood samples and told him to start taking folic acid and vitamin D supplements.

"I assume that you like lifting weights?" he asked, giving Geralt a quick once-over. "If it's part of your daily routine, then it's fine to continue as is for the time being, but you should avoid lifting weights lying on your back from now on. The important thing is not to over-exert yourself or strain too much. I'll see you again in a few weeks."

When they exited the building, Jaskier was still holding the ultrasound image in his hand. He looked as though a strong wind could blow him over, and he jumped when Geralt touched his shoulder.

"Are you alright?" Geralt asked.

"I'm fine!" Jaskier's voice cracked and he looked at the picture in his hand again. "It just...feels real now, if you get what I mean."

Geralt sighed and stuffed his hands into his coat pockets. "Yeah, I get it. It's one thing saying it, it's something else entirely when you actually see it."

Jaskier carefully placed the photograph in his wallet and turned to Geralt. "Are you working today?"

"Unfortunately, yes," he sighed. "I've got back-to-back meetings this afternoon. What about you?"

"I took the day off because I wasn't sure how long this would take. I was wondering if you, um...if you've got time we could go for a coffee or something first?"

"I need to be careful with my caffeine intake," Geralt grumbled. "I'm limited to two cups a day now."

Jaskier looked crestfallen. "Oh. No worries. I guess I'll just see you...when suits you best?"

"Well, the next ultrasound is in six weeks."

"Oh. Right."

Geralt realised then that he didn't actually want to wait that long to see Jaskier again. "I don't have time today, but if you want to come over to my place tomorrow night, we can have dinner. I wanted to talk some stuff over with you anyway."

Jaskier perked up then. "Sure! Yeah, that'd be great."

After waving Jaskier off at the nearest tube station, Geralt called an Uber to take him to his office. The streets heaved with tourists and wealthy shoppers at this time of day, but they all zoomed past Geralt's vision without him even noticing. He was staring at the ultrasound image in his hand. There was a part of him that felt excited when he looked at the picture, an excitement laced with the fear of the unknown. Still, when he had seen that little hand appear on the ultrasound screen, an inexplicable feeling had swelled up inside of him in that moment. Geralt tucked the photograph back into his trouser pocket and wondered if Jaskier had felt it too.