30 weeks later

After that second night together, Jaskier began spending more and more time at Geralt's place. Despite his protests, Jaskier always turned up with a small gift for him; usually it was chocolates (Celebrations, of course), but sometimes it was flowers or something for the baby. The sex—as always—was spectacular, but over time, they got to know each other better too. Geralt learned that despite his assurances, Jaskier did, in fact, snore. He also learned pretty quickly that Jaskier never seemed to shut up. He talked and talked all of the time about everything and nothing. After spending the better part of a decade living on his own, that took some time to get used to. But then on the few nights that Jaskier didn't stay over, Geralt struggled to sleep, because now it was too quiet for his liking.

Geralt wasn't sure at what point they transitioned from dating to being in a full-blown relationship, but within a few months, Jaskier had moved into his flat on a permanent basis. The one and only time he saw Jaskier's shoebox flat in Camden was the day they'd gone to collect his meagre belongings, and to be perfectly honest, after seeing it for himself, he regretted not asking Jaskier to move in with him sooner. Having Jaskier's belongings suddenly occupying his flat was another thing that took Geralt some time to adjust to: he didn't mind the acoustic guitar being left on the couch, but he did mind the dirty clothes and wet towels that lay strewn across the bedroom floor. Despite the occasional disagreement about where to put their washing, it surprised Geralt how easy things were with Jaskier. He kept expecting everything to blow up and fall apart, but it never did. Jaskier kept just being Jaskier— funny, adorably awkward, and (today, at least) annoyingly attentive.

"How can you complain about him being too attentive?" Yen muttered to Geralt after he'd complained about it. "Is such a thing even possible?"

"Oh, it's possible," Geralt assured her. "He's gotten worse in the last few weeks. He's started rubbing chamomile lotion on my belly every night and singing lullabies to her."

Yen snorted. "Well, that's sickeningly adorable."

"Tell me about it. And to make matters worse, every morning, I wake up to breakfast in bed."

"Every morning?"

"Yes."

Yen pulled a face and took a sip from her prosecco. "God, I wish Istredd had done that for me."

"It's annoying," Geralt insisted. "He won't let me lift a finger around the house anymore. He insists that I put my feet up and relax, to leave it to him to take care of everything."

"Oh, how terrible for you," she replied sarcastically.

"I'm perfectly capable of doing things for myself," he bristled. "I keep telling him that but he won't bloody listen."

"He's only trying to help."

"I know," he sighed. "But I'm not used to having someone wait on me hand and foot."

"I know that, darling, but try and see it from his perspective—he's probably feeling quite useless at the moment."

Geralt frowned. "How do you mean?"

"Well, you're almost at the finish line now but you're going through a rough time of it. You're feeling tired and swollen, you're more irritable than usual—"

"Than usual?" he said accusingly.

"Yes, Geralt. Don't give me that look, you know fine well that you're a grumpy bastard, pregnancy has merely served to amplify that."

"Urgh, my back is killing me today," he relented, rubbing his throbbing lumbar.

"All the more reason to take Jaskier's advice and rest. He's probably feeling somewhat responsible for your current state—and rightly so, he's the one that knocked you up. Just cut him some slack, he's trying his best under the circumstances."

Geralt looked across the living room towards the kitchen to see Jaskier busy pouring more drinks for their guests. With only two weeks to go before the baby was due to arrive, Yen said that it was time to have the compulsory baby shower. Jaskier was chatting animatedly to a couple of Geralt's work colleagues, and they were laughing at something funny that he had said. The sight did make him feel warm inside of his chest, but that could just have easily been heartburn; pregnancy was doing an absolute number on him and he'd already decided that carrying one kid was more than enough to last him a lifetime.

"Maybe I am being too hard on him…"

"Maybe just a little bit," Yen smirked. "We'll blame it on pregnancy hormones, shall we?"

"Deal."

Geralt hadn't planned on having a baby shower, but Yen had talked him into it after she had offered to organise it for him. He didn't much care for the materialistic aspect of it, but it was nice to see his and Jaskier's nearest and dearest laughing and joking together like one big happy family. Well, almost everyone.

"I take that Visenna won't be gracing us with her presence today?" Yen asked, trying to keep her tone casual but she couldn't disguise the note of disdain from her voice.

Geralt shook his head. "She's in Milan at the moment—I think. But who the fuck knows? It's difficult to keep track."

Yen took Geralt's hand and gave it a tight squeeze. "Your mother's a foolish woman. She might not regret her decisions today, but one day she'll look back and realise what she's missed out on."

"Yeah, well...if that ever does happen, it won't be my problem," said Geralt. "Jaskier's mum is excited about being a grandmother, though. Her enthusiasm more than makes up for Visenna's absence."

"Which one is she?" asked Yen, scanning the crowd of guests. Geralt nodded to the short woman with long brown hair and piercing blue eyes talking to Jaskier's best friend, Triss. "I can see where he gets his looks from. Is she nice?"

"She's lovely. She turned up today with three boxes of Celebrations for me."

Yen smiled approvingly. "That's sweet."

Jaskier hurried over towards Yen and Geralt then holding out two fresh drinks for them. "You guys needing anything?"

"We're fine, thanks," said Geralt, taking the proffered glass of cranberry juice from Jaskier's hand.

"Are you sure?" he pressed. "I can make you something to eat, if you'd like?"

"I'm fine," he insisted.

"Oh! What if I grab you some—"

"Jaskier!" Geralt cried. "I'm good. Honestly."

Jaskier hesitated. "If you're sure…"

"If Geralt wants anything, I'll grab it for him," Yen assured him. "You go and relax— enjoy the rest of the party."

"Okay…" Jaskier hesitated a moment before retreating. "If you need anything—"

"We'll be sure to call you," said Yen, waving him off. When Jaskier was out of earshot she turned to Geralt and shook her head. "Okay, he might be a little intense."

"Yeah," Geralt sighed and smiled fondly at Jaskier as he answered the door and ushered in more guests, including Geralt's assistant, Eleanor. "But I wouldn't have him any other way."

"Ooh, you've gotten soft in your old age," Yen teased.

"It's the pregnancy hormones."

"Hmm, sure it is."

"Mr Haute-Bellegarde!" cried Eleanor excitedly. She hobbled over to where Geralt and Yen were sitting carrying an obscenely large baby hamper. "How are you feeling?"

"Good, thank you...Eleanor, you didn't buy this for me, did you?" he asked, lifting the hamper from his diminutive assistant's arms and sitting it on the floor at his feet. Eleanor brushed the flyaway hair from her face and shook her head.

"No sir," she puffed. "It was delivered to your office this morning—a gift from Ms Riannon."

Geralt raised his eyebrows in surprise. "Wow. That's unexpected."

Eleanor fished a card out of her pocket and held it out to Geralt. "She also left you a message of congratulations."

Just as Geralt was about to take the card from Eleanor, he was struck with a sharp pain in his lower abdomen. Clenching his eyes shut, he groaned and doubled over in pain. Yen instinctually grabbed his elbow and asked, "Are you alright?"

"I'm fine," he lied, just as another wave of pain washed over him, more intense than the last. "Fuck! No, I'm not. I need to sit down."

Eleanor and Yen helped Geralt back into his seat, both looking at him with concerned expressions. Eleanor stuffed the card back into her pocket before whispering, "Is the baby coming?"

Geralt shook his head. "It can't be. She's not due for another couple of weeks."

"Oh, the baby's coming," Yen chuckled.

"How do you know?" he asked. Yen nodded to Geralt's lap. Following her line of sight, he realised that the crotch of his trousers were wet. "Oh fuck."

"What do we do?" squealed Eleanor in a panic.

"Jaskier!" Yen yelled. "We need you now!"

Jaskier, who had been in the middle of piling baby presents on the gift table, dropped everything and came running over to their side. "What's the matter?"

"My water's broke," Geralt said quietly.

Jaskier's mouth fell open. "Now? It's happening now?"

"What do you want us to do?" asked Yen.

"I need everyone to fuck off," Geralt gritted out as another contraction hit him. He looked up at Jaskier with a pleading expression. "Can you get everyone to leave, please?"

Jaskier nodded and pressed a quick kiss to Geralt's forehead. "I'm on it."

As Yen helped Geralt shuffle into his bedroom for some privacy, Jaskier explained the situation to the other guests and ushered them out of the flat as quickly as possible. Triss was the last guest to leave, yelling 'good luck' at the top of her lungs before Jaskier unceremoniously slammed the door in her face and hurried to the bedroom to find Geralt pacing back and forth. Yen still sat on the bed and smiled when Jaskier appeared.

"Is that everyone gone?" she asked.

"Yeah...um, I just got off the phone with Doctor von Gratz's office and explained the situation to them."

Jaskier trailed off and Geralt stared at him. "What is it?"

Jaskier rubbed his neck and grimaced. "I'm afraid Doctor von Gratz is on holiday."

"What?"

"Cyprus, apparently. For the next week."

"Fuckfuckfuck," Geralt rambled.

"What now?" asked Yen.

"Another doctor is on call tonight," Jaskier explained. "Hubert Rejk. I just googled him, he looks alright to me."

"You googled him?" Geralt raged. He snarled in frustration and flopped down onto the edge of the bed next to Yen. "This can't be happening."

"Geralt. Hey, listen to me," Jaskier cupped Geralt's cheeks and looked into his eyes. "I know this isn't what we'd planned for, but we'll work around it, okay? Doctor Rejk says he's handled cases like yours several times, so he knows what he's doing. Everything's going to be alright."

Geralt clenched his eyes shut and nodded. "Okay."

"Do you want me to stay?" asked Yen.

Geralt shook his head. "I'm good. I've got Jaskier."

Yen smiled and nodded in understanding. She gave Geralt a kiss on the cheek and said, "If you need anything, call me. Keep me posted on what happens."

"Thank you."

Yen then rose to her feet and pulled Jaskier into a bone-crushing hug. "Take care of him. He's not as tough as he likes to make himself out to be."

"I know," he whispered. "I'll call you if we need anything."

After Yen left, Jaskier took a deep breath and turned to Geralt. "Okay. The hospital said it's going to take them a couple of hours to get everything ready for you. Until then, you've just to relax. So, the first thing that I'm going to do is run you a bath. How does that sound?"

Geralt nodded gingerly. "Yeah, that sounds good."

"Okay. You just do whatever makes you feel most comfortable. I'll come find you when the bath's ready."

Making himself comfortable in his current state, however, was impossible. He tried kneeling on all fours on the bed like his midwife had suggested, but that made no difference. Neither did lying in the fetal position. Cursing loudly, he got back onto his feet and started pacing again, back and forth, listening to Jaskier crash and clang in the bathroom like he was engaged in some ferocious battle.

"What the hell are you doing in there?" he cried.

"Making you a space of peace and relaxation!" Jaskier replied. "I won't be long now."

Geralt shook his head and waddled into the kitchen for a drink. Whatever the hell he was doing, it didn't sound at all peaceful or relaxing. A few minutes later, Jaskier hurried back out of the bathroom and found Geralt leaning on the breakfast bar popping a couple of paracetamol and drinking a glass of water. He looked frazzled—which Geralt thought was hilarious considering he was the one that was in labour, not Jaskier—but he flashed Geralt that dazzling smile of his and declared, "Your bath's ready!"

Geralt followed Jaskier and hobbled into the bathroom, stopping dead at the sight before him. Jaskier hadn't just run him a bath, he'd prepared a bubble bath with scented candles and soothing Celtic music playing softly in the background.

"What's all of this?"

"I told you—I've made a space of peace and relaxation!" said Jaskier brightly. "We've got bath salts, bubbles and essential oils. I've got some rose petals too, if you'd like?"

"No thanks," Geralt grumbled, peeling off his clothes. "What the fuck is that music?"

"It's Enya."

"Can you switch it off?" he asked. "I feel like I'm in a fucking hippie retreat."

"Oh. Right you are, that's a no to Enya—I'll remember that in future."

The music cut off just as Geralt lowered himself into the hot bath. He let out a low hiss as the soothing water enveloped his aching body. Fuck, that felt good. Taking his time, he lay back and rested his head on the inflatable bath pillow that Jaskier had left for him.

"How are you feeling now?"

"Much better," Geralt sighed, closing his eyes. "Thank you."

"No problem."

Jaskier sat on the edge of the bath and began stroking Geralt's hair, just the way he liked it. Geralt hummed in satisfaction, able to forget for a moment that he was about to embark on the most terrifying few hours of his whole life. But he wouldn't be doing it alone. Having Jaskier by his side was more reassuring than he could say.

"Sing me a song, Jas."

Jaskier chuckled. "I thought you didn't like my singing."

"My pregnancy hormones are running riot," he argued. "Up is down. Everything is inside out. And right now, for reasons beyond my comprehension, I would like to hear you sing."

"Well, when you put it like that," Jaskier grinned. There was a short silence before he began to sing softly, "To adore you is all my life, Fair Ettariel. Let me keep them, the treasure of memories and enchanted flower; a pledge and sign of your love. Silvered by drops of dew as if by tears…"

By the time they pulled up to the hospital two hours later, Geralt was feeling 'a tad homicidal' as Jaskier had so succinctly put it when Yen had called to check in on them. He wasn't wrong: the pain was worse than anything that Geralt had ever experienced in his life, and as Jaskier helped him enter the hospital and approach the check-in desk, he was ready for this to be over and done with. The staff were quick to get Geralt checked in and rushed him through to the maternity unit. Normally, he would have balked at the idea of being asked to sit in a wheelchair, but his pride had long since fled him and now he was just glad to be off of his feet.

Time seemed to pass in a blur as doctors and nurses in blue gowns rushed around Geralt, poking and prodding him with instruments, asking him questions, hooking him up to monitors and getting him ready for surgery. If he hadn't had Jaskier there holding his hand the entire time, reassuring him over and over again that everything was going to be alright, he might have ran (well, limped) out of the hospital in a panic. But Jaskier remained by his side, stroking his hand and his hair, telling him how gorgeous he looked. Geralt knew fine well that he looked like shit, but Jaskier was so sincere with his words that Geralt almost believed him.

When Doctor Rejk introduced himself, Geralt felt a stab of panic again. He couldn't help but notice how young this guy looked. As though reading his mind, Jaskier asked the good doctor how many Omega pregnancies he had delivered.

"Dozens," the good doctor replied, which considering how rare they were, put Geralt's mind at ease a little. "You'll be my third this year."

Next thing Geralt knew, he was being wheeled into surgery. The C-section had been agreed upon early in the pregnancy as it was the safest option given his condition, but regardless of how 'routine' this was, Geralt couldn't help but have every worst case scenario run through his head. But once they administered the general anesthetic, Geralt felt his worries and pain melt away along with his inhibitions. God, what had he been so worried about? This felt pretty damn good. He also felt very tired all of a sudden, and it was only when he realised that Jaskier was still holding his hand that he discovered his fingers were numb.

"This feels...weird," he slurred.

Jaskier frowned and looked towards the anesthesiologist. "Is he alright?"

"He's fine," the masked woman assured him. "Don't you worry, I'm keeping a close eye on him."

Jaskier turned back to Geralt and gave him a warm smile. "You're doing brilliantly, love. It won't be too much longer now."

Geralt sighed and lolled his head from side to side. "When we're done here, can we go home?"

"Not straight away," Jaskier explained gently. "You'll need to spend a couple of days in the hospital. But don't you worry, I'll be here with you and the baby."

"The baby?"

Jaskier chuckled. "Yes, Geralt— the baby."

Geralt suddenly remembered why he was here and grinned. "Oh yeah. I forgot. Next time, you can carry the baby."

"Next time?" Jaskier laughed.

Geralt nodded. "Yeah, being pregnant is hard. You're doing it next time. Deal?"

"Deal."

Geralt could hear beeping in the distance but it sounded like it was echoing in an empty chamber. What an odd sound, he thought. Beep...beep...beep…

"Jaskier."

"Yes, love?"

"I have a confession to make."

Jaskier's eyes widened with surprise. "Oh? What's that?"

Geralt sighed and closed his eyes. "I like your singing."

Titters of laughter rang out through the room and Jaskier beamed at him. "Do you really?"

"Yes. You sing so beautifully," Geralt admitted. "You're like an angel."

"Oh my god." Jaskier turned to the anesthesiologist again. "Will he remember saying any of this?"

"Oh yeah," she laughed. "Every word."

Jaskier turned back to Geralt. "Good. Then you'll remember me telling you that I love you."

Geralt opened his eyes again and looked up at Jaskier. "Do you really?"

"Of course, I do," Jaskier stroked his hair and said it again. "I love you."

"I love you, too." It surprised Geralt how easy it was to say, and he knew that it wasn't the drugs talking, either—he really meant it. "I love you so much."

Jaskier opened his mouth to speak but was silenced by the scream of a newborn baby. His head whipped around towards the other end of the operating table and his eyes grew impossibly wide. "Oh my god. She's here!"

A few moments later, the doctor brought the newborn baby over to Geralt for him to see his daughter for the very first time. His grogginess sharply subsided as his focus shifted solely on the small bundle that was presented to him and Jaskier. Geralt took in the sight of her with a strange sense of awe: her skin was a healthy bright pink and she had dark hair like Jaskier's, and powerful lungs to match. Her head looked too big for her body, with short legs and tiny hands clenched into fists as she cried out. She looked like an angry, fuzzy peach, and she was the most beautiful thing Geralt had ever seen in his entire life.

"Have you picked a name?" asked the doctor.

"Ettariel," Geralt croaked. "Ettariel du Haute-Bellegarde-Pankratz."

Jaskier pulled a face. "Um...we can talk about surnames later."

Geralt was too tired to argue. He simply nodded and closed his eyes, glad that the worst of it was finally over.