A/N: Some baby Akela, because that's what we all need. ;)
Summary: Geralt should have expected his child's first word to be 'fuck'.
"Fuck!"
Geralt paused. "What?"
"Fuck!" The little girl bounced on the blanket Geralt had set her on, pointing with chubby fingers across the river. Usually, he'd ignore her senseless baby babble or simply nod along to whatever was coming from her mouth, but that had not been senseless babble. It'd been a word.
He'd been somewhat attempting to gain a word or two from her for a few weeks now, each attempt a valiant fail considering she seemed to prefer her 'ga's and 'goo's. It'd been an irritating process, but he'd been told – by who, he couldn't remember – that babies didn't start speaking until they reached at least ten months. He would never be sure of course, but Akela couldn't have been more than a new-born when he'd found her in the woods, making her eight months now. She couldn't even walk yet.
But she'd just spoken.
A corner of his lips started to curl upwards, until it froze and his eyes suddenly widened as he realised what she'd just spoken.
He craned his neck to look where she was pointing. He breathed a chuckle. "Duck, Akela," he corrected, making his way towards her. "That's a duck."
"Fuck!"
"Duck."
"Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!"
He sighed and lowered himself beside her, balancing on the toes of his boots. Honestly, he wasn't surprised that had been her first word. It was his first word every time something went wrong, or Akela decided to use her newfound crawling abilities to hide from him after he'd turned around for a second. He didn't really care either, but he knew he'd get more looks than he'd prefer when around other people if the baby was constantly cursing.
Akela stopped bouncing long enough for him to gently grasp her shoulders. She blinked at him with those bright blue eyes, pouty lips parted as she stared up at him. "Don't say that," he said slowly, letting her absorb each word. "It's 'duck'. With a 'd'. Duck."
She stared a little more, clearly processing, before giving him a two-toothed smile and bouncing again. "Fuck!"
Geralt rolled his eyes and swung her up into his arms. He trudged towards the riverbank. "Duck," he said firmly, pointing at the mallard floating in the middle of the water. He looked back at the baby, not an ounce of confusion on her face. Instead, she stared at the duck for a good few seconds before turning back to Geralt with yet another goofy grin.
"Fuck!" she decided on.
"No. Duck."
"Fuck!"
"Duck, Akela! It's a fucking duck!"
In the eight months since he'd found the little girl, he had learnt many things. A big one was that raising his voice, even a small bit, would make her cry. It started with a trembling lip, then her big eyes began to well with tears, then she'd start sobbing, and he'd feel guilty. He'd never felt guilt before Akela.
What was worse, though, was that her sobs rarely went into full blown fits. That was reserved for when she was hungry, in pain, or simply in a temper. When she was upset at him because of something he'd done, she stuck with her tiny hiccups and quiet sniffles, turning her face into his shoulder if her pitiful struggles to be put down didn't achieve anything.
Geralt sighed and shook his head to himself. He stared out across the river and turned, walking back to the blanket. He sat down, Akela on his lap, and pat her tiny heaving back. "You can say it if you want," he relented. "Say it, 'Kela." Akela lifted her head, cheeks wet with tears, and Geralt smoothed her blonde hair back. He pointed out across the river again. "What are they?"
She followed his finger and chewed on her own. "Fuck…" she said hesitantly.
Geralt smiled a little painfully. "Right."
"Fuck!"
Like father, like daughter.