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They were roughhousing again, as they were wont to do, laughing and shoving each other in the corner of a bar, arguing over Dandelion’s latest lover and the poem he’d written for her.
“This is rot, you son of a whore,” Geralt growled, waving the parchment in the poet’s face.
“My mother was a very fine chambermaid!” the poet laughed, trying to snatch the paperback.
“Yeah? Well, this is still ridiculous drivel!” He allowed the paper to be pulled from his hand lest it rip, still grinning as the poet fumed.
Dandelion made to shove the paper back into his bag, but Geralt grabbed it, laughing and pulling on the strap. “Oh no, you don’t, poet! Give that-”
The bag tipped and several papers fell out, along with a very familiar, very recognizable glass bottle.
Before even Geralt could do a thing about it, the suppressants rolled across the floor, the lid popping open just enough that the sickeningly sweet smell seemed out. The only blessing was that none of the expensive power itself escaped. Unfortunately, suppressants had a strong scent and a very recognizable one.
“Oh shit,” whispered the Witcher. Dandelion was too frozen to reply.
Conversation seemed to die down across the entire tavern, and a man at the table nearest them leaned over to look at the bottle. “Suppressants?” The man picked them up, then laughed. “The damn poet’s an omega!”
Dandelion’s entire body trembled, and Geralt could hear his heart rate spike. Without a second thought, the Witcher snorted and held out his hand. “Those are mine, as it were. Side effect of Witcher mutations.”
The man didn’t seem to know what to think of that, no longer laughing. He slowly placed the bottle in Geralt’s outstretched hand, then fled back to his table as the Witcher’s cat eyes followed him.
“Geralt-” Dandelion began softly, once the thrum of conversation had resumed. “Geralt you didn’t have-”
“I didn’t have to,” he agreed. “But I did.”
“What if word gets out?”
Geralt snorted, keeping his voice as low as possible. “People will treat me the same when they need me, and spit on me when they don’t. It won’t change a thing.” Unlike Dandelion, who’s entire career would have been ruined. “Besides, I want to be there the first time someone asks Lambert if he’s an omega.”
“Geralt I- thank you.”
“Hmm. The poem’s still rot.”
“Geralt!”