See Me Differently, I Beg You(Alpha!Geralt x Omega!Jaskier)

Just Desserts

"Oh I've been dreading this." Jaskier sulks, tugging at the seams of his favorite pants. He couldn't let them out anymore, there was simply no room. It looked like this new diet was exactly what the doctor ordered. He felt like he swallowed a small melon. What was he going to do when he couldn't fit into any of his trousers at all?

"Think I liked you better when you were smaller." He says, staring pointedly at his bump. Well, more than a bump. He'll take what he can get at this point. As long as they were healthy he didn't care how long they took. Well-alright that was a lie. Really wished he had asked Pine.

"Lonesome, are we?" Lambert comes around the corner, leaning against the door frame. "And I thought it was just Geralt who talked to himself."

"He doesn't talk to himself. He talks to Roach. There's a mighty big difference." Jaskier folds the pair of pants back up, lowering them back into a drawer. "And I was talking to them."

"Them who?"

"Them-" he lays a hand over his stomach, "I heard it helps them. Maybe it's silly. My mother would speak to my siblings when she was carrying."

"Huh, and here I was, thinking you were missing that white haired bastard." Lambert chuckles, "He'll be back soon. Don't fret."

Jaskier rolls his eyes, about to take his hand away when he feels a small kick. "Oh-" he almost laughs when Lambert strides over, worry etched onto his features. Witchers. Always quick to assume the worst. Well, not all of them.

"What? What is it?" Jaskier recalls Geralt asking the same, the first time. He smiles, grabbing Lambert's hand. "What are-" it seems the contact is all it needs to start up again. Lambert's eyes stare wide open at the odd sensation against his palm.

"You and Geralt both." Jaskier smiles, releasing his hold. Yet Lambert's hand remains. He spreads his fingers out, dropping down to his knees.

"Well I'll be damned, you really aren't just getting fat." Jaskier scowls, tugging at Lambert's ear. "Don't skin me alive just yet. I want to check something."

"And what are you-" Jaskier blinks as Lambert presses his ear against his belly. "What-what are you doin-"

"Quiet, bard." He shuts his eyes, remaining still against him. He's listening for something, sure. And Jaskier is growing anstier the longer he goes without explaining himself. And then Lambert grins, eyes beaming. "There it is."

"There what is?" These damned Wolves were going to give him a heart attack.

"That witcher heartbeat." Lambert rises, fixing the bard's shirt. "Don't tell me you haven't noticed it, when you're all curled up with the 'White Wolf'. You're carrying mutant spawn alright."

Jaskier slides the drawer shut with a huff, "I have, actually. It's always intrigued me. Now, did you need something? Or is it a habit of yours to enter an omega's chambers unannounced?"

"You've a visitor."

"Huh."
---
"Yennefer!" Jaskier is shocked to see her, but thrilled nonetheless.

She holds him at arm's length when he draws near, smiling. "Well look at you, finally looking the part of 'ever patient omega'. Give it a few more months and I reckon you'll be fit to burst. Miss me?"

"I didn't miss that humor, that's for damn sure." He buried his face against her, finding comfort in her scent. "Mm, you ran into Geralt, didn't you? That how you found this place?"

"I weaseled it out of him one way or another." She smiles, "And, I come bearing gifts." Jaskier pulls back, looking curiously to the pack hanging from her shoulder. "Think you'll quite like them." She brings it forward, carefully lifting out a precarious parcel. Whatever it is, it clacks together once she sets it on the table.