Media: Fic

Title: Wanna Be Yours

Rating: M

Pairings: Kurt/Blaine

Spoilers: None

Warnings: Age difference (Kurt's 30 - Blaine's at the end of his junior year at NYADA), mpreg

Word Count: Prologue — ~4.1k

Summary: A/U MPREG with age diff (older!Kurt), prologue excerpt — "Oh, no he didn't! He did, he must have. The pieces of the puzzle were finally coming together for Kitty. Kurt had slept with his best friend's TA."

Author's Note(/an additional warning): Prologue is in Kitty's POV, then it each chapter goes back and forth between Kurt and Blaine. This has been my project while on medical leave for surgery b/c who doesn't want to write mpreg while they're high on a narcotic (this is a legit mess, oops).

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Prologue

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Behold, the final straw: a microwavable bowl of Chef Boyardee beef ravioli. Also known as, 'The inevitable proof that Kitty's interim boss was a drug addict stuck in a downward spiral of heavily processed food despair.' Too far gone in a moment of curiosity, Kitty eyed what else was in Kurt Hummel's reusable grocery bag. Hidden under a crumbled Pop-Tarts wrapper and an opened bag of Sour Patch Kids, she spotted two bottles of sparkling lemon water. She winced at the second container of supposed 'ravioli' winking obnoxiously at her from between prepackaged diced watermelon and a box of frosted sugar cookies. Kitty swore up and down that Kurt's sudden weird behavior and his even weirder eating habits had to be related to drugs, absolutely! Had to be. Maybe? Drugs certainly... possibly explained his frequent restroom use, at least.

Kurt's usual snippy attitude had taken a quiet, erratic turn about two Saturdays ago. Kitty had barely raised an eyebrow when she'd come in early that morning to open the shoppe and found Kurt in the middle of some serious rearranging. It hadn't stopped at shelves and clothing racks having been dragged from one side of the store to the other; Kurt had even stripped the dressing room of its zebra print décor. Despite his insistence, Kitty hadn't believed he'd only gotten there "a little while" before her. She'd just figured he had finally decided to rightfully act out against Sugar Motta for abandoning them. Sugar had waved a fat check in front of Kurt's face and asked him sweetly to manage her daddy-bought boutique for a 'few weeks' while she traveled abroad with her new Irish beau. Eight hellish months later, she barely checked in anymore.

Kitty didn't know much about Kurt that she'd learned by working beside him, aside from his annoying obsession with literally anything of a light blue hue (like whatev at 'because it's the color of clear skies, Kitty'). She had actually gotten most of the dirt on him from her boyfriend, who happened to be a friend of a friend of Kurt's. Kitty had already known he was an actor or maybe had been an actor because she'd heard he was on a "forced" indefinite break from acting after an "injury." Yeah, Kitty still wasn't sure what to make of the air quotes. Kurt only had a few roles under his belt, but every one of them was deemed 'critically acclaimed' by the NYADA dweebs who constantly stopped in to watch a once-praised alumni flounder in retail. No wonder Kurt was a cynical mess. Apparently right before his career went belly-up, Kurt's father had passed away only weeks after Kurt's longtime boyfriend had broken up with him. No wonder Kurt had turned to drugs.

"What are you doing?" Ah, speak of the devil. Kurt's sharp tone hardly derailed Kitty from her nosy venture into his office.

Praying for you, she thought as she took a handful of candy. She twirled around to face him, a wide smile masking her concern. Thanks to Sugar's flakiness, Kitty's job paid too well for her to lose it anytime soon. She hoped Kurt could keep his addiction under control. "What's with all the munchies?"

An uneasiness washed over Kurt's face. He lowered his gaze, his mouth set into a tight line. "Shouldn't you be manning the register?"

She rested her other hand on her hip, pausing with her chin up as she brushed past him. "I prefer 'womaning the register,' thank you." Kitty's eyes trailed down his body, narrowed with suspicion. He was comfortably clad in a thick knee-length sweater over a button-front shirt and slacks. She nodded knowingly. Kurt had to be hiding something under all those ridiculous layers. "Are you okay?"

"Ex—excuse me?" Kurt crossed his arms over his chest, oddly defensive of her totally innocent inquiry. "I'm fine," he stated hastily. He looked off to the side. "Why?"

"No reason. You just look a little pale... er than usual." She squinted, her lips twitching in a poor attempt not to smirk. "Maybe it's the lighting."

Kurt agreed much too quickly, blinking hard enough for it to seem as if he had flinched. "It's the lighting."

She drew out a soft, "Okay." Her back now turned to him, Kitty exhaled a quiet laugh. Uh-huh, the lighting. Sure. She stole one more glance at Kurt once she neared the doorway. She caught his slight grimace and the way his hand shakily patted down the front of his sweater. Head bowed, Kurt gently pushed the door closed after her.

Kitty walked on her toes in long, graceful strides. She pulled her hair into a high ponytail, a bobby pin sticking out of her mouth. She checked to make sure the storefront was still empty before she darted off to scope out the restroom Kurt had just been in. She rubbed thoughtfully at her chin, unsure about what the heck she was looking for exactly. White powder residue, a spoon, a syringe, what? Oh, Kitty. She rolled her eyes, ready to exit the small room when she noticed a pink tablet on the tiled floor. She picked it up and frowned, wholly unimpressed. It was clearly marked TUMS, a boring antacid. She washed her hands and left. Kitty yawned and went back to trying to untangle a ball of knotted necklaces.

Eventually, Kitty decided to retire her unfounded accusation as she sat there and thought about the preposterous idea that Kurt was a drug addict. Don't get involved, she told herself. Even if she had caught him in the act of 'lighting up,' she wouldn't know what to do. In the time she's worked with him, Kitty had only been unfortunate enough to meet one of his friends, Rachel. Possibly his only friend, even. Rachel was a vocal instructor at NYADA and visited him at the shoppe a lot. A way lot; Rachel was determined to liven Kurt up and had recently thrown him a big birthday bash. Kitty had attended on the arm of her boyfriend and she'd caught maybe two glimpses of Kurt the entire night. The birthday boy had been in hiding at his own party. None of his guests had seemed to notice or care about that little fact. She wondered how many people there had known him personally.

Three days later, they shared yet another awkward moment when Kitty barged into Kurt's office without knocking. She had a customer who demanded to speak with the store manager because Kitty had kindly told her to "get real" for asking if they had a price matching policy (and the woman had a freakin' eBay listing brought up on her smartphone). Kitty studied her fingernails instead of the tell-tale streaks of wetness on Kurt's cheeks as she dully explained the situation to him. He had been clutching his iPhone to his chest in a way that reminded Kitty of someone who had received bad news... and had to act it out dramatically in an improvised skit. She wondered if his dealer had cut him off or something. Listening to his uneven breathing, she couldn't look Kurt in the eye as he replied to her hesitant inquiry of if he were "okay" by mumbling about how he had lost the cap to a new bottle of very expensive lotion. Something was definitely wrong if that was the best excuse he could come up with. Kitty asked if he wanted her to tell the customer he'd be out shortly.

"No. Deal with it."

"But—"

His shoulders shook. "Deal with it, Kitty."

She perked up, saluting Kurt and smiling wickedly from the unspoken permission she truly believed he had granted her. By any means, deal with it. Oh, she would. Would she ever. "You got it."

Kitty handled the disgruntled woman with complete professionalism. Just kidding, she berated the customer and reduced her to tears. Just kidding again, she politely asked for her to get lost and wrote down Sugar's personal cellphone number on the back of a business card. "If you get a hold of her, could you please remind her that this place still exists?" Kitty waited until the psycho lady was gone before she marveled at her self-restraint. She deserved a raise for that. "Look," she hollered to Kurt as he hurried out of his office. She held up her hands. "No bloodshed!"

He wasn't amused, not even a little bit. Kurt told her he needed to take off for the day.

"Everything alright?" Kitty asked, not sure why she asked a question she knew wasn't going to receive a real answer.

Even so, her stomach clenched at Kurt's high-pitched scoff. She crinkled her nose, annoyed and disgusted. He was probably leaving to get his next fix.

Sometime that night, Kitty received a long text message from Kurt with next week's schedule. There was also a brief mention of how he was "going out of state for a few days" (oh sweet baby Jesus, was he pulling a Sugar on her?) and gave her the OK to close the store if anyone called off and there wasn't any coverage. He had honestly stopped caring and she couldn't blame him. Kitty didn't think much of it until Rachel came into the store the following day to see Kurt and had no idea he'd taken off. She panicked, asking the same questions over and over again. She had even demanded to see Kurt's message to Kitty. Maybe she was imagining it in Rachel's overreaction, but Kurt's friend seemed really... scared about him, for him. Although Rachel eventually got a hold of him and calmed down considerably once she chewed him out, Kitty was left with an uneasy feeling she couldn't shake off.

Kurt returned on a sunny Friday morning after four days away from the boutique. The lights were already on when Kitty arrived, an iced latte in her hand. Kurt sat at a table in the back, a mess of paint color swatches spread out in front of him. He smiled at her in greeting, a real smile. Honestly, she had once thought a smile like that would've put cracks in his porcelain face. Kurt then asked for her opinion regarding a new color scheme for his shoppe and Kitty was absolutely floored... as she tried to see if his pupils were dilated. He must have been high to have thought that hippopotamus brooch was a good look. Huh. Kitty began to wonder if she was being a tad bit judgmental towards Kurt.

Nah.

"There's something—" Kitty took a long sip of her caffeinated beverage, wishing she'd asked for an extra shot of espresso. "There's something different about you," she admitted in a carefully even tone that absolutely couldn't confess I'm on to you. His fresh face and relaxed body language didn't fool her, no sir.

Kurt responded to Kitty with a nonchalant shrug. "Is there?" He glanced down for a moment too long, his fingertips brushing across a paint sample. A light blue one. Oh, hell no. "I've probably gained about five hundred pounds from stress-eating binges."

Kitty flattened the tip of her straw between her teeth. "That's not it."

"Hmm, okay. You know what? This carpet needs to go, too." Kitty stopped short beside Kurt and leaned in close to peer down at him. He waved a disapproving finger, his jaw tightening. "Yeah, don't do that."

"Why—"

"Why don't you go put on a pot of coffee?"

Kitty's upper lip curled a little at the side as she rose her cup up.

"I don't believe I said anything about it being for you." He frowned at her, a real frown she was beyond used to and had grown almost but not quite fond of. "Move along, dear."

"Hummel, you are sizzlin' today." Kitty bit down on her straw harder, trying hard not to give him any kind of expression. She feigned indifference like a queen, y'all. "Did you... score?"

Well, okay then. That's all it took for Kurt's entire face to just heat up. He sputtered, overly flustered in a way that would've made her laugh if it didn't maybe confirm her suspicions. A blush crept up from his neck to his ears, bright red and splotchy. "Coffee, Kitty."

Oh my god, she mouthed as she slowly turned away. Shaking her head, Kitty whipped back around. "How can you—?" Kurt stared at her with such big, innocent eyes. It mostly frustrated her. "It's cute," she said. "It's cute that you think you can keep secrets from me."

Kurt's eyelids fluttered as he let out a sharp exhale. He swallowed thickly, wetting his lips. "It's obvious, then?"

She gasped, "Yes." Kitty hadn't expected him to say that. She would rather him come clean to a friend or just someone who wasn't her.

"What can I say?" He shrugged, laughing nervously. At least he had the decency to look as uncomfortable as she felt. "'Oops.'"

Kitty couldn't help but to pull an enraged face at his dumb oops. "Kurt, this is a big deal!"

"It is," he agreed slowly. Kurt cleared his throat, taken back by her outburst. "It's also none of your business."

"Does Rachel know?" she asked, talking over him. Kurt pushed at the colorful clutter on the table, his palms pressed down.

"None of your business," he repeated in a much louder voice.

"You need help with—"

Kurt brought a hand up to cover it over his mouth. "You need to leave. Goodbye." She stood there, frozen in disbelief. "Goodbye, Kitty."

Kitty crossed her arms over her chest. "No." The last thing she needed to do was leave this guy alone. She would only rather do anything else than stay at work and babysit her boss. Ugh, why did she have to be burdened with such a caring soul? "I'm not going anywhere. This isn't your store. Only Sugar can fire me."

Kurt wouldn't even look at her now. "Then go—go get started on inventory."

Unsurprisingly, they barely spoke with each other for the rest of the day. Kitty bared her teeth through a long, awkward shift. It was about fifteen minutes until closing time when the night really took a turn for the worst. The door to the boutique opened wide and a group of guys filed in quickly.

Kurt looked up from counting the cash in the register. "Oh, hello. Are we getting robbed?"

Kitty wrinkled her nose. She groaned an oh no as the young men divided themselves into two lines and then each one stepped aside as a guy in yellow pants charged through them. He marched straight for where she stood with Kurt, her eyes flitting over to the nearby fire extinguisher. Pull, aim, squeeze, sweep [that creep off his feet]. Then—then they all opened their mouths and the music started.

Give me all, give me all, give me all your attention, baby

Halfway through the belted-out pop song, Kitty (rubbed super hard at her throbbing temples and) finally recognized the lead singer as Rachel Berry's slave-boy, although perhaps the correct term was TA. She had seen him following Rachel around on occasion; he'd always stayed behind her, never beside. Kitty had noticed how Rachel would always snap her fingers at Blaine, like, a way lot and how she had treated him more like a personal assistant(/slave-boy, you see). He had patience Kitty would kill for, especially right now.

Kitty started feeling somewhat nauseous from the sugary performance and cast a curious glance in Kurt's direction only to find him shimmying his shoulders and humming along to the Bruno Mars song and what the heck? Her mouth fell open at the hopeful gleam in Blaine's doe eyes, the oh so very sparkly ones he couldn't keep off Kurt. She snorted 'cause the poor kid didn't stand a chance (and also because his eyebrows were practically twerking themselves off his forehead). She couldn't blame him for his crush. Kurt was totally a Disney prince, albeit a jaded one.

"You want to get the hose or should I?" she muttered to Kurt, grateful once they all shut up.

Kurt ignored her in favor of clapping. Enthusiastic clapping at that, yikes. Kitty blamed the drugs for his delusion. "Blaine, that was great. You... you guys sound great. Really great, wow. Rehearsing for a competition or—or?" Blaine's stoic backup crew had trickled quietly out of the store.

Blaine's eyes crinkled as he smiled proudly and stated, "Or." He took a deep breath, reaching across the counter for Kurt's hand. Kurt stepped back, wincing himself at the hurt expression that Blaine had tried to hide. "Kurt, please. I need you to know I—"

Kurt interrupted him by slamming the empty till down into the cash drawer. Kitty jumped at the noise, watching Kurt closely. "Outside," he squeaked. Her eyebrows rose. Kurt's feathers had definitely been ruffled. "You and I, Blaine, we should—outside, please. Okay?"

Kitty's smile brightened as Blaine's dimmed. "Okay," he repeated. He gave her a little wave and then looked down at his feet as he pushed his fists into the shallow pockets of his pants.

"Now, Kurt. You let him down easy, ya hear?" Kitty said to Kurt in a delighted yeah, make him cry tone. What? Other people's misery gave her energy to live. It was probably why she flourished so well with Kurt. He always worked his shifts with her instead of Marley "for reasons," so she felt she was entitled to it. Although after the morning they'd had, she wouldn't be surprised if all that changed. Kurt shot her a weird look.

Kitty hopped up to sit on the counter. She kicked her feet out merrily, wishing for popcorn as she watched Kurt and Blaine through the storefront windows. Too bad she couldn't lipread... or even see their faces, damn. They sat together on a bench out there for only a few minutes before Kurt stood up abruptly. He tried to storm back inside the shop, but Blaine stopped him as he opened the door. She tipped her head to the side, hearing Blaine beg for Kurt to listen to him.

"I'm not that kind of guy, Kurt. I haven't been able to stop thinking about you since that night."

Unfortunately for Kitty's eager ears, the door fell shut again and Kurt's heated reply was too muffled for her to catch. Still, she laughed. She actually cackled in surprise. Oh, no he didn't! He did, he must have. The pieces of the puzzle were finally coming together for Kitty. Kurt had slept with his best friend's TA. That was why Blaine had been looking at Kurt with hungry hearts in his eyes. He'd gotten a taste of that dick and wanted more. Kitty hadn't pegged Kurt as desperate or at least that desperate. Without Blaine in sight, Kurt successfully re-entered the store this time. His hands moved up and down the vertical row of buttons on his cardigan, a nervous habit Kitty had picked up on suddenly—suddenly... No way.

Kitty choked on a laugh, her ballet flats slipping off her feet as she curled her toes. Kurt, he had slept with Rachel's TA and now—and now?

"You're not on drugs! Hold up, Kurt. Don't you walk away from me." Kitty leaped for Kurt, her arm looping through his. He tried to pull away, grunting her name. "I can't believe this. You're pregnant."

What a fucking relief.

Kurt stopped moving in order to gape at her. "Drugs?" He demanded an explanation, confused and rightfully offended.

Wait a minute. She gazed down at his unremarkable midriff. "Pregnant?"

"You thought I was on drugs?"

Kitty mimicked his outraged hand-on-hip position. "You're pregnant?"

Kurt frowned, his mouth pinched tight. "I see we've reached a stalemate." He sighed wearily, rubbing a hand over his forehead. "Earlier, when you said I needed help... You meant I needed help with—?"

She supplied helpfully, "Your then-obvious drug addiction. Duh." She flashed him an oops, my bad smile. "Seriously, though. Tell me I'm wrong, you slept with that? He's like half your age and height."

"Stalemate," he reminded her. "Wait," he then sputtered. Kurt's speech quickened as he snapped, "How old do you think I am?"

Kitty was a hyperbolic genius and knew exactly how to piss Kurt off by the press of only one button. "Oh, come on. You're not a terrible looking guy. Have some standards."

"La, la, la." Kurt walked away from her, hands over his ears. Ever the mature one, that Kurt. She followed after him. "I can't hear you over the sounds of me not caring."

"Wait, wait. Is he even legal?" she teased. "Are you going to have to pay child support to his parents? Kurt, please don't close the door. I'm not finished!" Hell, she had barely started. Kitty continued to call out to Kurt through his office door. "How drunk were you? Wait, wait, wait. Were drugs involved?" Maybe she'd been right on the money all along.

The door creaked open a crack, if that. "You say nothing about this to anyone. If he—if he comes back, just don't. Please, Kitty? Stay out of this."

"He doesn't know? Are you not going to tell him? You're screwing with me, right? Right, Kurt?" Silence. Kitty scoffed, giving the doorknob a light slap. "Do you really want to turn your life into more of a soap opera? That's where you're headed." Still not a syllable uttered from Kurt. Kitty gave up, deciding to finish closing out the cash register. Hesitant footsteps eventually took her back to Kurt's office. She knocked gently, shrugging her jacket on. "I'm out of here. You want me to lock up?"

His kindly hollered response surprised her. "Hold on, I'll walk you to your stop." He appeared in front of her several minutes later, his Frye messenger bag slung over his shoulder and a blue scarf wrapped loosely around his neck. They made it outside until he sighed dramatically. "You're looking at me funny. Don't."

"You're awfully calm for a man facing an eighteen year sentence."

Kurt threw her off again by ducking his head and smiling. "I'd say it's more of a nine month sentence and then eighteen years of probation." He dragged his feet across the rough cement and nudged her with a sway of his hips. His face lit up as they walked under a streetlight, the definition of his cheekbones and the lines surrounding his crookedly quirked mouth more pronounced.

"Will you at least admit it? I will take your word for it, I solemnly swear." Kurt's chin rose, his eyes rolling up at the starless sky. "Or else I'm going to continue assuming you're a drug addict. Pick your poison, Hummel." She had faltered near the end, taken back slightly by the grim look on Kurt's face. Her pace slowed. Sickened by the apology ready to flow from her lips, a knot formed in her throat. Kitty thought about his last-minute "vacation" and how Kurt indirectly confessed he was going to tackle his unplanned pregnancy by himself. Kurt: alone and lonely, a single dad. "This is a very big deal for you and I'm not making it any easier. What are you going to do?" It was hard trying to pry into someone's life while also attempting to sound sincerely sympathetic.

Kurt didn't miss a beat with, "I'm going to be a dad." He stopped walking and Kitty wondered why until she realized they had reached her bus stop. She was nearly blinded by the bus' headlights as it pulled in beside the curb. Perfect timing. "Good night, Kitty."

"'Night, Kurt and company."

Kurt took a backwards step, shaking his head at her as he hid a smile behind the back of his hand.

Once she was seated on the bus, Kitty fished her cellphone out from her purse. She bit her bottom lip as she scrolled through her and her boyfriend's text messages. Kitty smirked, immediately starting to type in the message field. She pressed the circular send button without any second thoughts.

To Artie: omg guess what?

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I do have a tumblr (allie-ballie), but idk yet if I'mma use it/post fic.

Thanks for reading!