This was prompted on Tumblr by the lovely Brittany/whynobritneybrittany. Totally unrelated to my other daddy!Klaine fics - my headcanon for those is completely different!
Kurt was practically hanging off Blaine as they climbed the stairs to their fourth-floor apartment, both of them exhausted deep down to their bones. They were in the middle of tech week for their respective musicals, and their directors were working them hard, determined to get good reviews for these new, never-before-seen shows. While Kurt respected his director's motives, he also wanted to push her into the orchestra pit for making him so tired he almost mismatched his socks that morning, and Blaine had told him he felt the same way about his director.
"Blaaaaine," Kurt whined as they reached their doorway. "I think I've lost all control of my legs."
"I know, baby, I'm- did we leave this light on?" Blaine interrupted himself once he got the door open. "I swear we turned all the lights off this morning."
"Oh my God, did someone break in?" Kurt asked, panicking. "Of course we'd get robbed during hell week, why make it- Quinn?" Quinn had walked in during Kurt's frenzied speech, smiling happily and drying her hands on a dish towel.
"Hey, boys," she said calmly, as if they were expecting her. "How were your rehearsals?"
"Fine," Blaine said, giving her a confused stare. "Why are you in our apartment?"
"More importantly, how are you in our apartment?" Kurt asked. "Only Rachel has our spare key, and she's out of town doing that tour of Gypsy."
"Oh, I broke in," Quinn said, waving her hands like that was irrelevant as Kurt gave her an incredulous stare. "Santana taught me how to do that freshman year, it's so easy. I made you guys dinner, c'mon, sit down before it gets cold!" She wandered back into their kitchen, and after exchanging confused looks, Kurt and Blaine followed her, gasping when they saw what she had done.
Their kitchen/dining area was filled with candles, giving it a soft, warm glow. The dining table was loaded with delicious-smelling food, prompting a small whimper from Kurt. Quinn had taken a seat at the head of the table, leaving spots for Kurt and Blaine across from each other on the long sides of their rectangular wooden dining set.
"So, we've got baby-back ribs, roasted baby potatoes, and baby carrots for dinner, and I've got baby cupcakes cooling by the stove for dessert," Quinn said once the boys were settled. "I also busted into your wine rack and poured you each a glass of champagne."
"Wait, you didn't want some, too?" Blaine asked as he served himself. "You know we wouldn't begrudge you a drink, Quinn."
"No, I think I'll be abstaining for a little while," Quinn said with one of her trademark smirks. "But you two might want it once you figure out why I'm here."
There was silence for a moment as everyone chewed, enjoying the meal. Suddenly, Kurt choked. "Baby-back ribs, baby carrots, baby pota- Quinn!" he shrieked, startling Blaine enough that he almost spilled his drink. "Are you- ?" He couldn't finish his question in his shock. Quinn started giggling excitedly, and he swooped out of his chair to plant a kiss on her cheek before dragging her upright and bouncing them around the kitchen.
"Baby, what are you doing?" Blaine asked, totally lost. "Why are you trying to swing Quinn out the window?"
"Blaine," Kurt said, stopping and fixing Blaine with a patient look. "Think about what all of these foods have in common, and what you and Quinn got up to last week." Blaine froze, forehead furrowing as he thought. When he realized, Kurt could practically see the lightbulb flick on over his head.
"Quinn! Are you pregnant?!" Blaine yelled, almost flipping his chair in his haste to stand up and hug her.
"Yes, Blaine, it worked! I'm your surrogate for real now!" Quinn said, ferociously returning Blaine's embrace. Kurt threw himself on them, trying to hold back his happy tears.
"God, who would've thought this was going to happen back when we were all in high school?" he asked. "Rachel's head probably would've exploded at the thought of her not carrying our child."
"Hey, we asked her," Blaine reminded him. "It's not our fault she keeps getting offered parts every ten minutes."
"Damn all these talented people being our best friends," Kurt joked. "Thanks for not wanting to be a big Broadway star so you can bear all of our spawn, Quinnie."
"If you'd like me to live long enough to bear this spawn, you should probably stop smothering me," Quinn choked out. The boys instantly sprang away from her, Kurt almost falling on his ass in his haste. "Thank you. Jesus, but you two are strong."
"We're so sorry, Quinn, we don't want to hurt you!" Blaine said, sincerely apologetic.
"Can we get you anything?" Kurt asked, equally concerned. "A chair? Some water? Do you need to put your feet up?" He hovered near her uncertainly.
"Kurt, I'm all of like five days pregnant, I think I can still move around just fine by myself," Quinn said, rolling her eyes in fond exasperation. "I've kind of done this before, you know."
"Yes, but now you've got us around to help you!" Kurt said. "Well, us and Puck, of course. Have you told him yet?"
"I figured I'd tell the actual parents of this baby before I get around to telling my husband that I got knocked up by one of his best friends," Quinn joked, taking her seat again. "He'll probably try to keep me in a bubble for the next nine months as a safety measure."
"I knew Puck was a good friend," Blaine said. "Do you think he'll want to be a godfather?"
"Oh good Lord, we cannot let Puckerman be a godfather," Kurt said, horrified. "He'll try to speak in a terrible Italian accent for weeks if we let him be a godfather."
"I'll keep him in line," Quinn promised. "Now sit back down and finish eating, I didn't cook all of this food just to let it go to waste as you disparage my husband!"
"Yes, ma'am," Blaine and Kurt said simultaneously, easily cowed by Quinn's attitude, and the three of them settled back in for their celebratory dinner.