Jaskier blinked. "Sorry, what was that?"

"I'm pregnant," Geralt repeated.

"...with a baby?"

Geralt drew Jaskier a withering look. "No, with a litter of kittens. Yes, with a baby—and you're the father."

Jaskier's mouth fell open. "I'm the father?"

Geralt sighed and closed his eyes. "Yes."

Jaskier felt faint all of a sudden. He grabbed the edge of the dinner table to steady himself but the restaurant seemed to spin around him of its own accord. "But—if you're pregnant, that would mean you're…"

"An Omega," Geralt confirmed, his expression hardening. "Why, have you got a problem with that?"

"What? No!" Jaskier cried. "No, I'm just...shit, if I had known that, I—"

"You would have what? You would have thought twice about coming home with me?" Geralt finished for him, his eyes flashing with anger.

A stab of annoyance cut through his shock and he glared at Geralt. "I didn't say that."

"But you were thinking it."

"I really wasn't," he shot back angrily. "Don't go putting words in my mouth, you don't know the first thing about me!"

"Umm, do you gentlemen need more time to look at the menus?"

Jaskier turned to find the waiter hovering awkwardly next to their table. He wanted to throw his overpriced wine in the waiter's face and tell him to piss off, but he managed to grit out, "Yes, we need more time to...discuss our options. We'll wave you over when we need you."

"Very good sir," the waiter mumbled before he scurried out of sight.

Jaskier turned his attention back to Geralt, whose expression was a storm of emotions. At first glance, he looked angry. But the way that his shoulders were hunched forward, like he was trying to make himself look small or invisible (a mean feat, considering his hulking stature), Jaskier realised that he wasn't angry—not entirely—he was embarrassed. And scared. Jaskier couldn't help but feel sympathy for him then. What little he knew of Geralt, he seemed like the type of person that liked—perhaps even needed—to feel in control of everything around him. He'd seen it in the way that Geralt carried himself, both in and out of the bedroom. Everything about him seemed considered—the way he spoke so carefully, the way he walked down the street. And with all that in mind, Jaskier couldn't think of anything scarier or more uncertain—more out of control—than being pregnant.

Taking a moment to compose himself, he downed the last of his meagre glass of wine before speaking again. "What I was going to say, before you jumped down my throat, was that if I'd have known you were an Omega, I'd have worn two condoms at once, just to be on the safe side. I don't care if you're an Omega, I'd still have gone home with you."

Geralt looked up at him with a surprised expression. "Really?"

"Obviously," he replied, rolling his eyes. "You're bloody gorgeous."

Geralt couldn't help but huff out a laugh at that. "Well, that's unexpected. Most people are less...understanding. I'm sure you can imagine the reaction I normally get when they find out."

"Well, I'm not most people."

"Evidently. For the record, you should never wear more than one condom at a time. It actually offers less protection than just one."

"It does?"

Geralt nodded. "Wearing two condoms at once can cause friction between them, weakening the material and increasing the chance that it'll break."

Jaskier sighed. "Well, it looks like we were screwed either way, then, doesn't it?"

"Yeah, looks like it."

"I still can't believe this is happening," said Jaskier, more to himself than Geralt. " How did this happen?"

"Well, the condom broke, for starters," Geralt quipped before adding, "I took the morning-after pill as well, but...well, clearly, that didn't work."

"Shit."

"I know."

Jaskier took a deep breath and nodded. "Okay, the situation isn't ideal by any means, but we can handle it. What do we do now?"

Geralt shifted uncomfortably in his seat. "That's another thing that I wanted to talk to you about. I've got my first scan at the doctor's next week, I thought that—if you wanted to—you could come with me."

Jaskier felt as though the floor had disappeared beneath his feet then. "You're keeping it?"

"Yes, I've decided to keep it."

Jaskier slumped back in his chair, trying to process this revelation. He didn't know what was more shocking— the fact that Geralt was pregnant, or that he intended to keep the baby. The far-reaching implications of that seemed too big for Jaskier to grasp. It was too much for one person to deal with, too big for Jaskier. A few minutes ago, he'd been concerned with how much a glass of white wine would cost him. That was blessed ignorance he'd never know again.

"I'll understand if you don't want to do that," Geralt continued. "Neither of us planned on this happening, but let me make myself clear: regardless of what you decide, I'm keeping it. If you don't want any part of the baby's life, that's fine, I won't hold it against you. But I thought that I should at least ask and give you the opportunity to decide for yourself one way or the other. If you want to do this with me, then great. If not, I won't bother you again after tonight."

"Okay."

Geralt stilled. "Okay? Okay, you want me to leave you out of this?"

"I mean okay, I'll come to the doctor's appointment with you."

Geralt's eyes widened with surprise. "Really?"

"Yeah, really."

"Are you sure?" he asked uncertainly.

"Yeah, I'm sure." When Geralt still looked sceptical, Jaskier sighed. "You're right—neither of us planned on this happening. But it did, so we'll just need to deal with it, won't we?"

"I guess so," he said slowly. "You're handling this remarkably well."

"You think so? Huh. It probably just hasn't sunk in yet." Jaskier felt strangely disconnected from his surroundings. It was like he was watching himself from above, moving his lips to speak and saying words that felt foreign to him. "Are you hungry?"

"Not really."

"Me neither." His appetite, along with his other faculties, seemed to have fled him for the time being. "Do you want to get out of here?"

Geralt looked relieved. "Yeah, if you wouldn't mind."

The waiter looked glad to see them leave as Jaskier paid their small bill. As they exited the restaurant, the cold night air struck them both like a slap to the face and Jaskier instinctively tucked his hands under his armpits. Geralt noticed him shivering and shook his head.

"Is there a particular reason that you chose not to wear a coat in this weather?"

"I wasn't really thinking with my brain when I was deciding what to wear tonight," he admitted. "So, what do we do now?"

"Well, you can take my coat, for starters." Geralt slipped off his jacket and tried to put it around Jaskier's shoulders, but he shrugged it off.

"Don't do that!" he cried. "You're the one that's pregnant, you should be trying to keep warm and stuff."

Geralt snorted. "I'm only a few weeks along, you can't even see anything yet."

"Even so, I'm not taking your coat," he argued. "That wouldn't be very gentlemanly of me."

Geralt smirked and pulled his coat back on. "Suit yourself."

They stood on the side of the road, staring at each other in awkward silence for a few long moments.

"So...what now?" asked Jaskier.

"Well, the doctor's appointment is next Friday at eleven. You could come 'round to the flat first and we could head along together. Or you could just meet me at the clinic, if you'd rather?"

Jaskier considered his options for a moment. "I'll meet you at the flat."

"Okay," Geralt pulled out his phone. "I'll send you my address."

"I remember where you live," Jaskier assured him. "The old Marquees Club. It's kinda hard to forget."

"Oh. Alright then," Geralt slipped his phone back into his coat pocket. "Well...I guess I'll see you next week."

"Okay." Geralt looked as though he wanted to say something else but thought better of it. As he turned to leave, Jaskier called after him. "How big is it?"

Geralt paused and frowned. "How big is what?"

"The baby," he clarified. "I know you said that you can't see anything yet but I was just curious how big it was. Sorry if it's a stupid question, I don't know anything about being pregnant—or babies, for that matter."

Geralt looked surprised by the question, but he shrugged. "Honestly, I don't know. I'm afraid I know as much about all of this as you do."

"Well, that's a good thing," said Jaskier encouragingly. "That means that we're both going to be learning things as we go along."

"Huh. Yeah, I suppose that's a good way of looking at it," said Geralt with a faint smile which quickly faded. "I am sorry, you know. About all of this."

Jaskier shook his head. "It is what it is. Whatever happens, we're just gonna have to deal with it."

"I suppose we will."

After sharing a few strained niceties, Jaskier and Geralt said their goodbyes and parted ways for the evening. Jaskier shuffled towards the underground station at Leicester Square in a daze. He was still reeling from the bombshell that Geralt had just placed on his lap, and he wasn't quite sure where he was going or what to do next. Jaskier decided to do what he always did at times like these: call Triss.

The phone only rang once and she answered his call. "If you're calling me this early, I take that the date didn't go well."

"You have no idea," he groaned. "I need to speak to you."

"I'm all ears."

"In person."

"Okay…" she said slowly. "Is everything alright?"

"No," he grimaced. "Not really."

It was only as he made the journey to Triss's flat that the reality of his situation finally began to sink in. By the time he arrived at her place a half hour later, he was in full panic mode. Luckily for him, when Triss opened the door, she had a large glass of wine waiting for him.

"I figured you'd need this," she said. When he snatched the glass from her and downed the contents in three large gulps, her eyes widened with surprise. "Okay, I take that the date went really bad. Should I put away the wine and dig out the gin instead?"

Jaskier stumbled past Triss into the flat and collapsed on her couch in a heap. "Triss, I've fucked up. Like, really fucked up this time."

"What the hell did you do?" she asked, sounding increasingly alarmed. "Jaskier, what happened?"

Jaskier hugged one of the bohemian cushions to his chest. "It's Geralt. He's pregnant."

Triss's eyes grew comically large then. "He's what?"

"He's pregnant," Jaskier repeated. "And the baby...it's mine."

Triss collapsed onto the couch next to him. "Holy shit. What are you going to do?" When he told her that Geralt had decided to keep the baby, all of the colour drained from her face. "Oh my god."

"He's got an appointment with the doctor next week to get his first scan," he continued. "He asked me to go with him."

Triss tensed. "And what did you say to that?"

"I said that I'd go with him."

The tension in her body immediately eased and she smiled. "You did?"

"Of course, I did!" he cried. "Why is everyone so surprised by that?"

"I'm not! Not really. It's just—oh, Jaskier," she choked, tears welling in her eyes. She threw her arms around Jaskier and hugged him tightly.

"I don't believe this," he grumbled. "I'm the one whose entire life has just been thrown into chaos and you're the one who's crying!"

Triss pulled away and slapped him on the shoulder. "Let me have my moment! I'm just proud of you, alright? A lot of guys in the same position would have tucked tail and ran, given the chance."

"I don't think taking responsibility for my actions is something to be proud of," he argued. "It's just the right and decent thing to do! Okay yeah, we both fucked up, but Geralt's the one that's going to have to shoulder the burden for nine months. I'm not happy about it, but what kind of person would that make me if I left him to deal with that on his own?"

"You're a good man, Jaskier," she said fondly. "You've no idea how much."

"I don't feel very good," he muttered. "Mostly, I feel confused and terrified."

"I think that's an understandable response, given the circumstances."

Fear gripped Jaskier again and he clutched the cushion to his chest a little tighter. "I don't know how I stayed so calm when I was talking to him. I was like, 'It is what it is. Whatever happens, we'll just have to deal with it.' What the hell was I talking about?! I don't have a clue about how to deal with this! Oh god, what am I going to do? I barely earn enough to take care of myself, how am I going to raise a child?"

"You're not going to be dealing with this alone!" she reminded him. "Geralt's going to be there, and I'll be there to help as much as I can—and so will your parents."

Jaskier had forgotten all about his parents. "Oh god, I'll need to tell them too, won't I? They're gonna be so pissed."

"Yeah, you should probably mention it at some point within the next nine months," she joked, but Jaskier didn't laugh. He couldn't. His feelings of fear and inadequacy were so all-consuming that he was physically incapable of laughter. His thoughts were spiralling; he couldn't help but imagine every possible nightmarish scenario coming to fruition in excruciating technicolour in his mind's eye.

"What if I drop the baby on its head?" he thought aloud.

"Don't be silly. You're not going to do that," Triss assured him.

"But what if I do? What if I break them or hurt them by accident? I'd never forgive myself. Or what if I screw them up in other ways?" he rambled. "I'm a constantly anxious, completely neurotic, walking, talking mess. They'd need years of therapy with me as a parent!"

"Oh, for the love of god, you're not that bad!" Triss laughed. "And let's be honest, nobody's parents are perfect—ours certainly weren't and we turned out well enough."

"Did we?" he shot back sceptically. "Did we really?"

"Well, I did!" she insisted, looking a little offended at his insinuation. "Look, the fact that you care enough to be worried about stuff like this just makes me all the more confident that you'll do a good job. At least you give a shit about how your kid's going to turn out, that has to count for something."

But Jaskier shook his head. "I'm not ready for this."

"I don't think anyone's ever ready for kids," she argued. "You just have to adapt to them when they get here. You know, Geralt's probably asking himself the same questions right now."

Jaskier stilled and looked hopefully at Triss. "You think so?"

"Without a doubt. If you want my advice, you should tell him everything that you've just told me. It'll probably reassure him to know that he's not the only one feeling out of his depth."

Jaskier considered Triss's words for a moment. "Yeah...yeah, maybe I will."

She put her arm around Jaskier's shoulders. "Are you feeling a bit calmer now?"

Jaskier nodded. "A little bit."

"Good. Now, let's try to find the positives in this situation, shall we? At least you've got a few months to get used to the idea before the baby arrives," she said brightly, rubbing his shoulder. "And on that note…" Without further explanation, Triss hopped back onto her feet and disappeared into the adjoining kitchen.

"What are you doing?" Jaskier called after her, but when he heard the unmistakable sound of a champagne cork popping, he rolled his eyes. "Oh great…"

Triss reappeared a moment later brandishing a bottle of magnum and two cups. "Now, I know that this has been a somewhat traumatic evening for you—"

"That's putting it mildly."

"Still, it isn't every day that someone becomes a parent," she continued, plopping herself back onto the couch. She poured two cupfuls of champagne and held out one to Jaskier. "I'd like to propose a toast to you and Geralt, and the exciting journey that you are about to embark on."

"I don't really feel like this is a cause for celebration."

"Commiserations, then," she countered. "At least have a drink with me. I've already opened the bottle."

Jaskier sighed and took the proffered cup. Clinking their mugs together, he took a swig of the champagne and grimaced as the sharp, acidic liquid burned his throat. "Jesus Christ, Triss, this is disgusting."

"Well, I'm sorry if my cheap booze offends your refined palate!" she replied defensively. "I'm not made of money, you know."

"It smells like petrol," he grumbled before holding out his mug. "Pour me another one."

Triss cackled and topped up his mug. "I still can't believe it. You're going to be a daddy!"

"Yeah," he said quietly. "Me neither."