Media: Fic
Title: Wanna Be Yours
Rating: M
Pairings: Kurt/Blaine
Spoilers: None
Warnings: Age difference, mpreg
Word Count: ~9.9k
Author's Note(/an additional warning): (this is a legit mess, oops).
[:::][:::][:::]
Chapter One
[:::][:::][:::]
...Five days earlier...
Don't think about it, Kurt demanded of himself.
Of course he thought about it.
More awake than he wanted to be, Kurt chortled hoarsely into the over-stuffed throw pillow he had wrapped in his arms. A soft, almost bittersweet ticking floated down from above the couch where a massively ugly wall clock hung. The noise surrounded him, embracing Kurt tightly as if he were a dear old friend. However, he believed it to be mocking him as the too-steady ticks danced in rhythm with the throbbing headache he'd had since before he fled from New York. Annoyed and exhausted, he laughed again.
Stop thinking about it, he begged of himself.
Of course Kurt didn't stop thinking about it.
He never thought he'd end up running away to Ohio. There he was, though; here he was: camped out on his stepmother's floral sofa. Kurt flipped onto his back, elbowing a pillow aside as he sat up to pull his wrinkled cardigan off. He pressed his lips together, his fingertips tracing over the monogrammed B on the front of the heavy sweater. He also never thought he would end up pregnant by his closest friend's teaching assistant. He let out another hollow chuckle. Perhaps it "amused" Kurt too much that the embryo inside of him had been conceived on a freakin' fire escape during the night of his thirtieth birthday. Shuddering, his eyes slipped shut and he easily remembered the rough sounds of their skin rubbing together. Blaine.
Kurt clasped his hands over his mouth, his stomach rolling unpleasantly. He stood up and dizzily made a beeline for the bathroom. He locked the door behind him, his back pressed to the inside of it. His breathing hitched fitfully in his aching chest as he slid down to sit on the floor. Kurt blinked hard, letting the unshed tears know he was done fighting them. Come one, come all. He missed his dad and wished desperately Burt could be there to dish out much-needed fatherly advice and hear him out.
Maybe, a distant voice whispered harshly, it was for the best that Burt wasn't alive to see how weak and pathetic his son had gotten. What a shameful, crumpled mess he would have to step around.
"No," Kurt snapped out loud without meaning to. If only Burt were still around. He would never have let Kurt sink so low in the first place. "Stop," he muttered. Not this again, please.
He knew his cry face was godawful, but Kurt needed to let all the built-up frustration out of his system before he starting ripping at the seams once more. Although he'd only received official confirmation of his "condition" the other day, Kurt had had his suspicions for the past two whole weeks. If he'd known sooner, he probably wouldn't have continued the random make-out sessions with Blaine in the back of Rachel's empty classroom. They were having fun, a lot of fun; no strings attached, of course. As if Blaine would really want to date some nobody who was eight years older than him and headed absolutely nowhere in life, anyway. Kurt blew out a sigh of defeat as he calmed down and wiped off his cheeks.
Why him and why now? Maybe a baby would've kept Adam from taking off. Enough of that, Kurt was finished pretending to live in his own little world where he was safe from death and heartbreak. All he'd done was trap himself under a blank of pain. He had kept it pulled over his head for too long and only managed to push his friends far away. Kurt was well aware if it weren't for her own failures keeping her tied down to a teaching position she didn't want, Rachel would have bolted on him already. Eventually, she'd rise above him and leave. Everyone in his life did, sooner or later. Great, now he was stuck in yet another pity party.
Kurt drew his fists away from his face. He studied his palms, recalling the warmth of Blaine's hand in his. Blaine had found him hiding on the fire scape and instead of ratting Kurt out to Rachel, he'd joined him. Kurt's face grew considerably more hot at the memory, his cheeks flushed an entire shade darker. What a night they'd had, even before the sex. Kurt couldn't remember what exactly had led him into Blaine's lap, aside from their heated kisses. They had been listening to each other complain and rant and then suddenly they'd stopped talking. Kurt shivered, gasping shakily as he crossed his arms over himself. His heart didn't hold any regrets from that night, even with their little reminder setting up camp inside of him.
They had options. Kurt had options, with or without Blaine. First of all, he had nixed adoption. He knew he couldn't carry the baby to term and then just hand him or her off to strangers. No doubt, he'd have a change of heart. It wouldn't be fair to that couple if he made a promise he knew he couldn't keep. Abortion had then weighed heavily on his mind for a while. He'd actually expected himself to wind up terminating the unexpected pregnancy. Again, why now? He could get rid of it, then he wouldn't have anything to worry about or anyone to care for. But.
Kurt wanted that. He wanted someone to care for, to love and hold; to be his. He had no one, but he could. Kurt could have this baby. That realization had been the sole reason for his last-minute decision to take off to Ohio. He needed time away from nosy friends and impossibly nosier co-workers and rude customers and crowded streets. Ohio would always be Ohio, but Carole was the only family he had left and she'd welcomed him with opened arms and hot tea. Comforted to the brink of tears and needing to say and hear it, he had immediately blurted out his news to her. His good news.
The muscles in his thighs quivered as he rose slowly, his body utterly fatigued and aching in such an unfamiliar way. He wasn't that far along and yet the pregnancy was already pretty rough on him. It had to be worth it. Kurt sniffed, pinching at the hem of his MDNA t-shirt. He picked it up, rubbing his other hand gently across the soft skin around his belly button. Kurt's fingers curled into a C, the set of them stubbornly rigid and fiercely protective. It seemed like ages since Kurt had felt so sure of something. You're mine.
[:::][:::][:::]
"You're gross. If you keep eating like that, I'm going to have to roll you in and out of here and you're going to have to give me a big, fat raise." Kitty set down the label maker in which she had just placed new batteries, scoffing pointedly at the large bowl of buttery noodles in Kurt's lap. "Just because you're knocked up doesn't mean you get to eat anything and everything in sight, lard-o."
Kurt glared at her, pausing mid-chew of the cookie he had been nibbling on. What, the party tray of them he had brought in home were for the customers... too. "This isn't a pregnancy thing, it's a stress thing."
"Uh-huh, that's right." Her condescending tone only made Kurt want to shove a fistful of cookies down his throat (oh, and then possibly hers if there were any leftover). Kitty enunciated slowly, "Stress from your pregnancy."
Kurt threw her an exaggerated pout, opting to otherwise ignore her in favor of reaching for another cookie while spearing his fork through a greasy farfalle noodle. Forget her. He had to eat now, before the nausea kicked in again. He'd only been able to stomach half a banana all morning after throwing up the plain oatmeal he had forced down for breakfast.
He sprinkled more shredded parmesan onto his tasty lunch. Kurt took a big bite and smiled around the fork. Okay, perhaps it delighted him in the smallest degree to see how much he could disgust Kitty with his alarmingly clichéd pregnancy symptoms. Now that she knew, he was done hiding in his office. Looking down, Kurt guessed he could've not chosen a salad bowl for the pasta. "Want some?"
Unsurprising, she shook her head. "You're still gross," Kitty reminded him. She pressed buttons on the label printer, a red pen in her other hand. "You know what else is gross? Babies. Babies are—are you okay?"
Kurt had dropped his fork into the bowl. He sucked in a breath and then shakily let it out as he stuttered a, "No. I think I'm done."
"'Bout time." He cupped a hand over his mouth and the teasing smile Kitty beautifully wore faded right off her face in mere seconds. "Oh."
He stifled a pained gasp, the clenching feeling in his stomach worsening quickly. "Excusez-moi!"
Kurt scrambled into the restroom, the door clicking shut behind him. He held his breath in a desperate plea, back turned to the toilet.
Don't throw up, he chanted to himself.
Of course he threw up.
Although nausea poked and prodded at him randomly throughout the day, Kurt didn't vomit often. Just at work, it seemed. Customers who would apparently bathe themselves in their favorite cologne or perfume triggered most of his episodes. Well, at least he finally lost the hankering he'd had for pasta. Thinking about the vegetarian lasagna he knew Rachel had made specially for their dinner date that evening, he choked out one more retch.
It took two attempts for him to find the energy to stand up. Lightheaded and white-knuckled, Kurt griped the sides of the sink. He wanted to hurry out and grab the travel-sized tube of toothpaste and a toothbrush out from the desk in his office. Instead, he lingered in front of the mirror across from him and warily studied his reflection. The oily texture of his skin despite his thorough twice-daily facial cleansing regime annoyed him. Kurt squinted and frowned, angling his head for better lighting. Had his freckles gotten darker? Eh, Kurt's body had yet to impress him in the slightest. Double eh at the constipation, bloating, and constant exhaustion.
This better mean you're thriving in there.
He couldn't wait for his first ultrasound, an appointment that had yet to be scheduled because he still hadn't picked an OB. More than anything, Kurt needed to know how well the fetus was developing down in there. Anxiety had planted some disturbing nightmares in his head. The two specialists he'd already met with hadn't exactly 'wowed' Kurt. He didn't think his standards were too high considering the amount of trust he would have to place in this doctor. Kurt smiled, a small twitch of his lips. They. The amount of the trust they would have to place in this doctor, it was a lot.
Kurt gargled with water from a filtered bottle, aware of the weak vibrations coming from the cellphone in his pants pocket. Heading out of the restroom, he yelled out for Kitty to please throw out what was left of his lunch. "I don't suppose you know of a universal remote I could buy that'll fast-forward me about seven and a half..." All the air rushed out of his lungs at once. "Months," he finished weakly.
"Hello my fabulous Kurt." Rachel was all smiles as she twirled around a faceless mannequin, her long hair pulled to the side in a fishtail braid. She swiped the knitted bowler hat off its head and tried it on. Rachel cocked the rolled rim, winking at a slack-jawed Kurt. "What happens then?" she asked coolly, oblivious to his forcefully confused expression. "In seven or whatever months, what happens then?"
He replied quickly with, "Winter." A bubble of guilt swelled up in Kurt's chest. His mind raced madly, urging him repeatedly to just tell her already. "Winter happens then. You know how much I love winter... Fashions." He couldn't let her in on the pregnancy, not if he wanted to keep it from Blaine. Intentionally or otherwise, she'd tattle on him somehow; Rachel and her big mouth would find a way. If he even were to find out, Blaine shouldn't hear it from her. Kurt winced under the weight of Rachel's abrupt, worried frown.
"Kurt, are you feeling okay? Your face is all—"
He huffed out an unconvincing laugh with his interrupted guess of, "Handsome?"
She uttered a soft, "Flushed." Rachel crowded him, even as Kurt tried to back away from her hand as it reached up to cop a feel of his face. "Oh, honey. You're warm."
"I'm always warm, Rachel. I have a heartbeat." Far behind Rachel's turned shoulder, Kitty held up two fingers from the other side of a clothes rack.
Rachel huffed, flustered. "Hot, then. You're hot, all hot and? And sweaty!"
Hold the fucking phone, Berry. Kurt stopped short of checking his underarms for sweat stains. "I am not—"
"You should rest, dear." She brushed a crumb off his shirt, her top teeth grazing over her glossy bottom lip. The wildly anxious energy pouring from her eyes betrayed her relaxed grin. The endearments had already clued Kurt in that something was way off. "You should go home and rest, rest all night along. Forget about me, okay? Because you, you need your rest."
Kurt deemed himself too exhausted to play along with Rachel's madness. "Okay, what's going on? I'm—oh. Oh." He touched the tip of his index finger to his chin and faked a mighty pout. "You're canceling on me. That's what this is about."
Rachel either gasped or yawned, Kurt couldn't tell. "No, I am not... Okay, but it's for a really good reason." She jumped at him excitedly, grabbing at his upper arm with both of her small hands. "Kurt, I have an audition! I must prepare for it at once, I must be amazing."
He tutted, "Rachel Berry." Kurt smiled at her warmly. "You already are amazing."
She beamed brilliantly, nodding. "I just really hate my job. I need to get back in the spotlight, it's where I truly belong." Rachel leaned into him, sighing softly. "Don't you miss it?"
Kurt couldn't find any words for a honest response to Rachel's inquiry. He had until recently, when his priorities had shifted pretty quickly in a short amount of time. Kurt hadn't thought about hopping back on that saddle in... well, only days. Weeks ago, he had been dreaming about and anticipating his return to theater. Kurt knew he would eventually find his way onto the stage again, maybe in another year... or two or so(? Kurt's head was congested with question marks). He wanted to fall into a less stressful and more stable career while he tried out the whole single parenting thing, which was why he had contacted Sugar with an ultimatum that'd doubled as a resignation. He'd reminded her of the increase in sales since he'd taken over and had changed most of her suppliers for less visually offensive inventory. Sugar had reached Kurt over the phone to ask if he'd like her to simply sign the boutique and its lease over to him because she now apparently hoped to open her own exotic zoo when she got back to the States. Since it hadn't seemed like a big deal to her, he'd said yes.
If Rachel got the role, though. When Rachel got the role, though. "What about NYADA?" He assumed she'd take another sabbatical. Wanting a taste of something different, Rachel's last role had been in an independent film project and all of her screen time had ended up on the cutting room floor. Also, what about Blaine? It only took for a brief thought about Blaine for Kurt's stomach to swoop. Knock it off.
"Who cares about NYADA?" Pushing up to the tips of her toes, Rachel planted a loud kiss to his cheek. Kurt tried not to breathe out through his mouth, knowing he needed to freshen his breath. She asked him if he wouldn't mind re-scheduling their plans for another night. "You're not mad, are you?"
Shaking his head, Kurt smiled if only because Rachel was radiating with such infectious happiness. It was a good look on her, the sparkle in her eyes and the color in her cheeks. He hadn't seen her smile quite like that in a long time. He felt a pang of something, perhaps jealousy; however, it wasn't over her audition. Kurt reveled in her excitement. He wanted that, to bask in and gush over his own good news.
"What?" Rachel asked, curious and able to read Kurt better than he realized.
His voice cracked as he brushed the question off with, "Nothing." Kurt brought his hands together for a light clap. He let out an enthusiastic yay. Rachel needed this. "Congratulations."
She poked him in the side. "You're next."
"Oh, I'm certainly next."
Rachel squealed out a laugh, launching at Kurt for a hug. "I can't believe you're getting all teary-eyed for me."
Kurt's speechlessness had returned. He hadn't even noticed, although it explained his sudden case of sniffles.
Once Rachel had bounced out of the boutique with a handful of Kurt's cookies, Kitty came up behind Kurt. He'd grabbed a box cutter to open a new shipment of scarves.
"She's dense."
"Maybe you shouldn't make assumptions about people you hardly know... Oh, wait." It dumbfounded him that her (apparently troubled) mind had gone straight to drugs. What did that say about him? Not in any mood, Kurt brushed off the worry.
"I was right about you."
"You were not, you thought I was a drug addict."
"I knew something was up. At least I could tell." The indirect dig at Rachel only made Kurt frown. To be fair, he and Kitty saw way too much of each other; they were the fashion boutique's only full-time employees (and now, Kurt was only a few signatures away from being an employer... her employer, hehe). Even before the blood work confirmation, Kurt had assumed from the start that Kitty would smell the fishiness in the air and come her own conclusions. He hadn't expected her to jump straight to drug theories. "You should not tell her and then wait and see how long it takes her to notice all your baby fat. My guess is six weeks after you pop it out." Her hands gestured something Kurt often tried not to think about.
"'Baby fat,'" Kurt droned. "'Pop.'"
She narrowed her gaze at his personalized utility knife. "Don't point that at me. You're the one who humped the Baby Gap model." Kitty smirked up at him. "I spy with my little eye: a smile. Liked that one, did you?" He looked away from her, eyes sharply rolling upward. "Don't lie to me, Kurt. Kurt, don't lie to me." Her playful laugh and stern voice didn't go hand-in-hand. "I should probably thank you or whatever for taking one for the team."
"I'm not sure if I want to know what you're talking about."
"It's just, can you imagine if you'd been unlucky enough to knock him up? Gag me to the heavens. He'd probably stop by here all the time, all loud and super fat while serenading your bleeding ears with overplayed Top 40 hits. Ew, and he totally seems like he'd be one of those pregnant people who paint their obnoxious roundness for Halloween and it sickens me to visualize him dressing it up as a disco ball because we both know he would in a fetal heartbeat."
Kurt's box cutter clattered to the floor.
"Oh," he gasped. "Oh, god."
A string of what ifs struck him hard, leaving Kurt without a breath left in his lungs. His heart galloping in his chest, Kurt choked on air as he struggled to inhale. He ducked his head and two two trembling hands darted up to his face, his fingers weirdly numb. It took him a moment to feel the weight of Kitty's arm around his shoulders. He couldn't remember sitting down on the stool Kitty must've dragged over. She was doing one helluva job keeping him upright.
"Wh—what's wrong?" Her panicked voice sounded distant. "Are you okay?"
He blinked once; a beat, then twice. "I, I?"
Lonely and bored, Kurt had pretty much accepted his pregnancy with a sure, why not? shrug once he'd quit hyperventilating and mulled over his choices. It'd been clear to him from the start that he didn't need to stick such a huge responsibility on Blaine when it was something Kurt could handle himself. Blaine was a great, great guy. He had more energy and enthusiasm in one pinky than Kurt had in his whole body (especially now). Blaine didn't need to get tied down with a kid before he'd had a real chance to spread his wings and live.
Kurt's excuses were beginning to crumble.
Roles reversed, Kurt wouldn't want to be kept in the dark about Blaine's pregnancy. He would want to know and, without hesitation, he'd want to be a part of their life. He'd had a pregnancy scare during freshman year in college and he'd been so scared and definitely not ready in any degree. Kurt focused on that dreadful feeling he'd once had, relating it to Blaine. Blaine absolutely did not need to know Kurt was carrying his child. It was for his own good, he really did deserve—No.
Blaine deserved the truth, deserved the choice of deciding if he wanted anything to do with Kurt and the baby.
Kurt just wasn't sure if he could handle the rejection. He'd rather not say anything and save himself from Blaine's reaction and, ultimately, his response.
Fight or flight, he wasn't sure. Kurt's mind, body, and heart were at war. He'd thought about fleeing while he had been in Ohio. He had mentioned it out loud to Carole, only half-joking about moving back to Ohio. He could pack up and leave before anyone could get any the wiser. That's what's easy, Carole had said to him. But it's not what you want. He'd thought she had been referring to him running away.
"You look sick." Kitty's voice thankfully interrupted his frantic, scattered thoughts. "Please don't barf on or around me."
Kurt sighed. "I thought I could do this," he admitted in a whisper.
"Pregnancy isn't easy when you're not doing it alone. You've got a long ways to go, it's normal and okay for you to panic." Kitty paused, her mouth pursed. "Every now and then. When you're not here. With me. Yeah, especially that last part."
He shook his head. Kitty couldn't understand this. She wasn't much older than Blaine and she had no idea about anything, really. They were naïve when it came to the fastballs life could throw at a person when they weren't looking. "I feel like I've done something wrong."
"Then let it all out."
"I've whined to you enough."
"Not to me, lord no. To them."
Maybe Kitty wasn't as clueless as Kurt had thought.
He bit his lip and then finally nodded.
[:::][:::][:::]
Kurt gritted his teeth, his stomach not shy about gurgling and growling for the food it'd been promised. He couldn't believe Rachel had freakin' stood him up. Hormonal and hungry, he was fresh out of cares to give regarding his petulant scowl. Kurt surveyed the congested courtyard, Rachel's last text message to him pulled up on the screen of his cellphone.
Meet you at the water fountain, 12 o'clock sharp!
He tried to reach her, his eyebrows furrowing when her voicemail picked up right away. Rachel had either been very quick to decline his call or her cellphone had been turned off, which wasn't unusual while her class was in session. Something or, more likely, someone was holding up and Kurt's patience had worn thin. He turned on his heel, ready to march out of NYADA with his nose in the air.
Ah, but then his mood was greatly improved by a pair of giggling students stopping him and asking shyly for his autograph. Changing his mind, he decided to go and find his darling (but unforgivably tardy) friend. Kurt shushed the cranky whimpers coming from his rumbling tummy. I just fed you, he snapped inwardly at his body's sudden tantrum.
"Ms. Rachel Berry," he sang out cheerfully as he stroke briskly into the spacious classroom. "You're late, you're late for a very important... Blaine." For a second too long, the room spun around Kurt. Despite his brain screaming retreat down to his feet, he remained frozen in the doorway. He breathed out a soft, "Hi."
Blaine stood up immediately, an uncapped marker slipping out from between his fingers. "Kurt, hi." His stricken gaze flicked down from Kurt to the sheet of star stickers on top of a stack of papers on Rachel's desk. "Hi, Kurt."
A short moment passed before Kurt could find his voice again. "Wh—where's our royal highness?"
"She's, uh." Blaine cleared his throat. Kurt looked away from watching the bobbing of his Adam's apple as Blaine swallowed. "She left early for an appointment. Ms. Berry said she'd be gone for the rest of the day."
"Of course." Kurt tried to force his tired eyes to settle back on Blaine without objectifying him, except he suddenly found a need to examine his shoes. "I—I, you..." Just say it, thank him sarcastically for the nonreturnable birthday gift he'd left in your uterus. Yay for icebreakers. "I need to tell you something."
Blaine flinched, the creases on his forehead pinched tight. "No need. I'm really sorry about that, I won't do it again."
"Oh?" Kurt couldn't help but to smile.
"I'm still, gosh. I'm so embarrassed, that's very much why I can't quite look you in the eye." Blaine bent down to pick up the red marker he'd dropped. He snapped the cap on, twisting it. "I didn't get you in trouble or anything, did I? Oh, god. Please tell me you did not get fired!"
Head cocked slightly, Kurt wetted his lips with a dry tongue. "Yeah, Blaine. You got me in a lot of trouble." Blaine's obvious struggle to keep his anxiety in check worked wonders at calming Kurt down. "Don't apologize for the surprise performance at my shop. No, I liked that. It was nice, really nice. Don't, don't be embarrassed. Of course, unless it's over your song choice." Slowly, Blaine lifted his chin up and their gazes met. Kurt shuddered, chickening out. He moved quickly. "Well, I've gotta..." Not be here.
"Kurt, wait. Please?" Blaine's hand skimmed down Kurt's arm, his fingertips brushing across the inside of his wrist and then down his opened palm. Their fingers intertwined smoothly, warm and solid. Kurt gasped, breathless.
Don't turn around, he told himself.
Was it any surprise he turned around?
Kurt sucked in a gulp of air. His skin tingled under Blaine's touch, his own mind betraying him by urging Kurt to lean in for a kiss. No. It'd happened twice already. Two times since they'd slept together, he and Blaine had exchanged kisses in Rachel's empty classroom. The third attempt had gotten interrupted before their lips could touch by Rachel storming in, back early from a faculty meeting. Oh, Kurt desperately needed a distraction.
"There are crustaceans on your shirt," he whispered. "No, don't do that. Don't smile. They're hideous." Truly. Kurt was appalled that he'd only just noticed their beady little eyes. Even more appalling: the father of his unborn child was wearing a wonderfully fitted polo... with dancing lobsters all over it.
"I'm smiling at you, dummy." Blaine's fond smile nagged at Kurt. "Join me." He continued, clued in to Kurt's confusion. "Join me for lunch, my treat."
Feeling as if he were about to let his emotions get the best of him, Kurt tugged his hand out of Blaine's. Blaine tried to chase after it, but Kurt spun away from him and clasped both of his hands behind his back. "I should go."
"Kurt, I meant what I said. Every word."
He pressed his lips together. "Sure." More than once, Kurt had wondered how he would've responded to Blaine's hesitant profession of "love" had he not gotten him pregnant after only one night together. It'd been fun. Hot. Blaine had boldly uttered everything Kurt needed to hear that day after the not-terrible impromptu performance at the boutique. It just wasn't believable. Kurt knew better. He'd shut Blaine out then for 'thinking with his dick' and he could do it again, now.
"Don't brush me off, please." At least Blaine always had manners. Even while sated and still balls deep inside of a guy, he had asked Kurt if he were cold and wanted his sweater. Kurt still had it. "Don't brush us off."
Kurt spoke up, his voice somehow managing not to shake as it rose. "There is no us. We're not friends, we're not anything." He could neither deny their physical attraction for each other nor could he let it define them. It was sweet, Blaine's crush on him. Him having had taken advantage of it, though, yeah: not so 'sweet.' They really weren't anything. He and Blaine were basically just each others' rebounds. They had both griped about their failed relationships and then... Boom, awesome (unknowingly baby-makin') sex.
"That's not true and I don't think you believe it, either." Blaine offered him a timid smile, testing the waters. Kurt glowered falsely, his mouth set into a frown. "One date. Bless me with several hours of your time for one date. I'll change your mind."
Kurt coughed out a bitter scoff. "Maybe I'll change yours."
"Is something bothering you?" Blaine's concerned squinty-face set Kurt off. "Like, something else? I mean—"
"You mean, other than you?"
Blaine squirmed, stuttering. "I'm sorry," he said hastily. "I'll back off, sorry."
Kurt's eyes skipped away from Blaine's face. He sighed, low and uncertain. "No, it's fine." He tried again, his mouth trembling into a smile. "One date."
"One date," Blaine agreed and picked his elbows up to swing his arms out. "One date," he repeated in a brighter tone.
"You're smiling all too smug for a guy with one date and crustaceans on his shirt."
Blaine winked at him. "All relationships start with one date, Kurt."
"Ours started with one night, actually." Heat pooled low in Kurt's stomach, their eyes darkening at the same time. Blaine whimpering under him, his hands squeezing at the backs of Kurt's bare thighs. Kurt's head tipping back, an eager Blaine mouthing wetly at the smooth expanse of his exposed throat.
"So you admit—"
Only once, Kurt shook his head. "I admit nothing."
"Fair enough." Blaine chuckled, hitching his shoulders up. "I will see you soon."
Kurt stiffened, feeling unbearably hot and flushed all over. His clothing itched, constrictive in the wrong places. His feet wouldn't budge, his toes preferring to remain pointed at Blaine.
Those pregnancy hormones were going to be the death of him.
Right, the pregnancy. His pregnancy. The reminder served as a necessary mini-cold shower. Kurt sighed again, the noise almost a whine.
"So we're clear here, this date isn't an invite for you to come back out on my fire escape." He'd mostly meant it as a joke, wanting to have the last word before they parted ways.
"No... Kurt, no. It's not like that for me."
Kurt drew in a breath. He found himself glaring at the empty space beside Blaine's stupidly sincere face as he squared his shoulders and mumbled a toneless, "Oh." Fatigue hit him hard, unapologetic and demanding. Kurt's hand lifted in somewhat of a wave good-bye. He fled, confused for a fleeting moment as to why his vision was blurred.
"Oh, my god! Kurt Hummel, I love your work. Could I have your—?" Kurt clutched at an askew lapel on his jacket, flying past a freckle-faced admirer.
He tightened his jaw, his teeth grinding painfully for a split second. Why must you insist on dragging this out? He had a chance to lay everything out on the table. He could've gotten it over with already. Should have. Kurt fought for control over the delicate situation, determined to work at his own pace and on his own terms.
Rachel's obnoxious, self-picked ringtone erupted loudly from his cellphone. He ignored it; Kurt couldn't get out of NYADA fast enough.
[:::][:::][:::]
Sugar's hot mess of an office was now Kurt's very own hot mess of an office. He happily slapped a Post-it note onto a bronze giraffe statue and then pressed another one to the rotating disco ball lamp on his desk. An old-fashioned popcorn popper had been the first unsightly object in the room to be tagged with a sticky note, on which two letters were written: NO. The defunct machine housed at least one hundred colorfully tacky pairs of plastic sunglasses. Sugar had once referred to it as her most favorite piece of... Art. Yes, "art."
The solid wood corner desk (weighed an estimated eleventy hundred pounds and) could stay. Also on his YES list was a vintage chaise lounge that'd been fully restored. He smiled, humming contentedly as he appreciated its flawless off-white color and brass tack trim. It was his, all his. All his to nap on. Shoes off and vest undone, Kurt lowered himself onto the upholstered sofa. Drunk with fatigue, his mouth split widely into a relaxed grin. Ahh, ain't nothin' wrong with a late afternoon nap!
Oops, except that he then fell into a deep sleep for a solid three hours. If the sound of an incoming call from his cellphone hadn't jolted him awake, Kurt could've easily spent the entire night in his hella hot-mess office. That pre-lunch nap he'd had (you know, the one that had turned into a during-lunch nap... and then a post-lunch nap) hadn't taken the edge off his exhaustion, it appeared. The persistent tiredness both confused and ticked Kurt off; he was actually sleeping very well at night. Oh, um. Aside from those pesky 'getting up to pee' interruptions. Talk about confusion, right there. He thought that'd come later in the pregnancy, not during the middle of his first trimester.
Kurt rolled off the chaise lounge and landed gracelessly on his knees. He fumbled for his lit-up and relentlessly vibrating smartphone, blinking hard and squinting his bleary eyes as he answered the call. "'El—" He yawned his way through an, "oh?"
"Oh, no. Kurt, sweetheart, did I wake you up again?"
"No, no. I was just, uh..." He scrubbed his fingertips at a flaky spot of dried-up drool on his chin. In the two weeks since his return to the city, Carole had called to check-in on him at least every other day. The one night she had woken Kurt up and saved him from burning a pan of turkey meatloaf in the oven; while he found the sudden plethora of calls unnecessary, they were appreciated. Her concern for his health was obvious and he wanted badly to prove to Carole that her worries were unwarranted. He was fine.
He
could
do
this.
Kurt had recently seen an OB, an appointment he'd kept from her at first. While hinting about how much PTO she'd banked at work, Carole had told him more than a few times that she didn't think he should go alone. Kurt didn't need his step-mommy flying in to take him to see a doctor, okay? His first ultrasound was in a week. He was actually using the calendar feature on his cellphone to keep track of all the appointments his new doctor was throwing at him. Kurt finally sighed, "Yes. It's okay, I need to go get ready f—for, uh, home soon. Yeah, I'm still at—" He gasped, finally noticing the time. How the hell? He'd only shut his eyes for a few minutes. "Carole, I'm so sorry. I've got to go, go... Go."
Silence crept up on Carole's end and then a soft and knowing, "Mm-hmm."
Kurt rolled his eyes, almost laughing as he bit his bottom lip and realized he was absolutely blushing. "It's not, it's nothing like—like that. I'll, um. I'll tell you later, uh, about it. Carole."
"Mm-hmm."
He repeated her name louder, nervous twitches riling up in his belly. Kurt touched his mouth, the tip of his pointer finger prodding gently at his stiff upper lip. He inhaled deeply and confessed, "I am. I'm meeting up with the—him. We have... It's sort of a date."
"Kurt."
He winced at her tone, shaking off a sad smile. The corners of his mouth continued to sag as Kurt echoed her, "Mm-hmm." He slumped against the lounge, his legs stretched out and ankles crossed. "Tonight's the night and I almost slept through it."
"You're taking him out on a date?" Carole asked doubtfully, speaking in such a slow manner that Kurt's eyes shut for a moment.
He threw out an indifferent, "Nay." He traced his thumb over a glossy button on his rumpled vest. He'd have time to iron the wrinkles out of his shirt, at least. "He's taking me out on a date." Kurt sighed a little, several breathy exhales. "It's only sort of a date," he insisted. "Kind of."
"Uh-huh, and you don't think you're 'kind of' leading him on?"
He answered her quickly with an indignant squawk of, "No! Carole, he's the one who... He..." Hearing himself; what he was saying and how he was saying it, Kurt shut up. "Maybe I could just text him," he joked.
"And cancel?"
Kurt liked her idea and would be lying if he said he hadn't thought about it. "No, and tell him I'm pregnant."
Carole harrumphed. "If you were going to do it that way, you would've done it already." He could hear her smile through the phone. "Besides, a hand-written letter is much more personal."
He suppressed a grin of his own. "Huh. I could do that. You think I should include a package of homemade peppermint patties?"
"Oh, you. I'll let you go so you can get ready for your sort of, kind of date." Carole lingered on the other line, sighing uneasily. "You'll call me, right? I'd like to hear from you soon, Kurt."
"I will and you will, mom." He straightened his posture, reeling his legs in to crisscross them. "You don't have to... For once, I'm looking forward to what the future's gonna hold for me." Kurt laughed, the noise startling his step-mother. A split second must've passed where she'd thought he had sobbed. "For me," he repeated. "And my, my... child. I'm just going with the flow and—and I'm happy to do so." For once. He pressed his lips together.
"Your father would be proud of you, honey." Carole sniffled. "So proud," she continued shakily, "to be a grandfather."
Kurt's head twitched, a vague nod. He studied his fingernails and managed to hold off on breaking fully into tears until they hung up with each other. Kurt didn't bother wiping at his eyes or cheeks; he let him fall freely, wanting to drain himself dry. As if that were possible. It didn't help that they were nearly unstoppable. He'd come to learn he could only wait out the crying fits.
He reached for one of his brown Oxford shoes and threw it at the disco ball lamp. Kurt blinked, hardly flinching at the noisy crash. A yellow Post-it note swayed down to the floor, landing in plain view with its NO face up.
Kurt pulled his knees under him, pausing to give the chaise lounge a loving pat. He grunted, pushing himself up. He dragged his feet over to the sticky note, picking it up and then crumpling it in his fist.
[:::][:::][:::]
Off the record, the boutique creeped Kurt out at night. He'd barely dimmed the lights, too on edge with the many creaky noises surrounding him. Kitty had left hours ago; they closed early on Sundays, but Kurt had stayed late with the purpose of working on inventory. Too bad that nap had thwarted his plans. Kurt had many ideas for the store, including a new name ('A Spoonful of Sugar' had to go) and reshaping its specialty. If only he could find the energy to lift a pinky and get started on something already.
He tapped his foot, blocking out any strange sounds by singing to himself as he fixed his hair. Wanting to maintain perfection, Kurt looked for the bottle of his favorite volumizing hairspray. Once it was in his hands, he curiously read through the list of ingredients printed on the side of the silver spray can. Kurt picked up his cellphone and went straight to the all-knowing (and hypochondriac-inducing) Google, his mouth scrunched into a frown. He shrieked at seeing the words 'aerosol hairspray' associated with baby boys and penis deformity in a 9-year-old article on phthalates. The pregnancy website that referenced the report looked as if it'd been designed on GeoCities. Still, Kurt instead opted for the mousse that'd been in a basket of all-natural hair styling products Rachel had given him for his past birthday.
Unable to find the iron he thought he'd recently brought in from home, Kurt decided to lose his vest in favor of a navy McQ crew neck sweater. Any other time, he would've preened at how nicely the silky material clung to his broad shoulders. The ribbed hem accentuated his trim waist and even that didn't earn any self-satisfied appreciation. Despite Kitty's latest "endearment" of 'fatso,' Kurt hadn't put on more than a few unnoticeable pounds. He hoped to control his binge eating episodes soon—very soon. After tonight, in fact. Less stress sounded fabulous and he figured it'd lead to reduced volumes of his daily caloric intake and more sleep. Kurt glanced longingly at the chaise lounge before leaving his office.
Kurt waited for Blaine in front of his store, pacing under the awning. He huffed a frustrated sigh, stopping abruptly to lean heavily against a window and stub his toe into the pavement. The cool air felt nice, although it wasn't as refreshing as he'd like. He fanned his face with a clammy hand.
"Hey you!"
He almost fell over, his watery eyes huge and unblinking. Of course Blaine arrived punctually, dressed to the nines and holding an enormous bouquet of red and yellow roses. He offered them to Kurt, smiling toothily. Kurt stared at him, his mouth falling open in a silent laugh when Blaine gave them a little yes they're for you wave. His hands shook as he accepted the beautiful flowers, the colored foil wrapped around the long stems crinkling under his grip.
"Wow."
"What?" Kurt smelled the fresh roses, the lower half of his face hidden behind them. For a second, he smiled freely and drew an eyebrow up because he knew what.
"You look... 'Wow.'" Blaine's warm gaze trailed down the fine line of Kurt's body. "I'm really liking that shirt."
An intrigued burst of heat in his lower belly had him flushed in seconds. "Thank you for admiring my style, Blaine."
His dry tone apparently went over Blaine's head 'cause Blaine continued to grin madly. "You're quite welcome." He put a hand on Kurt's elbow. "Shall we?"
"We shall," he agreed. Kurt gave one more slow inhale and then lowered the colorful bouquet. "But first, if I may? I happen to know of a very lonely Tiffany vase that'd love these as much as I do." He would've had to been blind to miss the pleased sparkle in Blaine's eyes. The crushing weight of guilt upon his shoulders stole Kurt's breath away. Blaine followed him inside of the dark boutique. "Pray tell, what's on our agenda for tonight?"
Blaine first paid a compliment to the expensive vase. "You shall see," he answered with a playful cheekiness. "On a related note, I hope you're in the mood for French."
French fries, maybe. Ooh.
Blaine started to ramble at Kurt's seemingly tell-tale silence, his nervousness bleeding through quickly and Kurt found it adorable. He'd made reservations at a new restaurant that'd gotten rave reviews and Blaine had also scored tickets to a show Kurt actually wanted to see.
Kurt's mouth was still watering at the thought of french fries. Would they have french fries at a fancy French restaurant? Unsurprisingly, his stomach gurgled loudly. Hurrying, he left Blaine to fill his vase with water from the faucet in the restroom.
"You okay?"
The vase nearly slipped out of his hands. Kurt turned off the water, his breathing fast and heavy.
"Th—thank you for the roses. You didn't have to." He wanted to think he couldn't remember the last time anyone had given him flowers. Except he could: Adam. His ex-fiancé had shown up with white lilies after Burt had passed away. Kurt had thrown them out with the unread sympathy card, angry at Adam's offer of I'm here if you need me. He had no right after leaving Kurt and then immediately shutting him out of his life. Kurt tipped the vase to the side, letting some of the cold water pour out and dribble over the back of a clenched hand. If they were on a real date, he realized he would have hugged Blaine and smacked a kiss to those soft lips. He couldn't do it, it was already too exhausting; the façade. Kurt couldn't go through with the "date."
Kurt heard a scoff and then one of Blaine's hands came up to rest on his shoulder. He shivered, a gentle thumb caressing his shoulder blade. "Of course I did, silly. You deserve them and more."
His fingers tightened around the narrow neck of the vase. Kurt's eyes rolled up as he spun around sharply. His shoes squeaked—he must've spilled water on the checkered floor. "No, Blaine." He sighed, "I don't."
"None of that," Blaine chastised in jest. Kurt stiffened, his mind blanking out from a brutal wave of second thoughts. He took a step back from Blaine, the fluorescent light fixture above them flickering. "Hey? I know you can feel this, too. There's something... between us, it's—"
Kurt trained his gaze downward, jaw set and ready for a blow that was coming from him. "There is," he snapped calmly. "I'm pregnant." After the fact, Kurt gasped; he hadn't meant to blurt it out while they were standing next to a freakin' toilet! Kurt liked to think there was a time where he'd had class. You know, before he'd had spontaneous public sex with a guy he had barely known. "I'm sorry," he muttered under the erratic buzzing of the wavering lights. "It's nothing you need to worry about. I just thought you should know."
"You, you're—? Oh... Oh, my god. Pregnant? Like... pregnant?"
Kurt winced up at the ceiling, nodding. He couldn't look anywhere else, not with the choked sound of Blaine's voice ringing in his ears. He didn't want to see Blaine's reaction or read the shifting of emotions on his face. Kurt knew it'd break him, it would shatter him into one million unsalvageable pieces and he'd cave. He tried to clear of his throat, but a cough erupted out instead and he was forced to lower his chin. He could feel the spittle on his lips. "I want the baby."
A shudder raked through Blaine as he squeaked, "Baby?" He rubbed the nape of his neck, wild-eyed. Blaine breathed uneasily. "Baby."
Kurt almost smiled. He'd gotten used to that word; having tailored it to his liking, he now wore it like a second skin. Yes, he wanted to say. Baby. His baby. "Like I said, don't worry about it."
"'Don't worry about it'? How—"
"Please, Blaine. Not in here." He waltzed around Blaine and charged out of the restroom, not thinking about the tilted vase in his arms. More water sloshed onto the floor. Kurt set it down on a counter, the roses forgotten. Blaine followed after him, huffing harshly. "I think you should leave."
"What?" He talked over Kurt's gentle utterances, gaping and stuttering. "No, no. You can't—"
"Don't interrupt me." Kurt looked down, his stomach churning. His heart beat painfully in his chest, pounding against the inside of his ribcage. "I think you should leave," he repeated on a deep inhale. "I think you need some time to yourself before you say something you don't mean or make a promise you can't keep. I, I don't want to hear it and I definitely don't need any commitment on your end. Think it over, whatever you're going to say. Whatever you're going to do. Think it over. You're just a kid, Blaine."
Hands clenched, Blaine crossed his arms. "I'm an adult, Kurt!"
"Nice outburst, Mr. Adult."
"You're going to mock me?"
Kurt ignored their last exchange. "You don't need this. I don't need you. Take a few days and call me. Or don't. I won't miss your call." He touched the skin near the outer corner of his eye, brushing at nothing.
"Kurt, please." Kurt had gotten lost in Blaine's pleading eyes. He was torn and hesitant; scared. Gutted, he couldn't look at Blaine for a second longer. Kurt stepped away, grabbing a ballpoint pen and one 'Spoonful of Sugar' business card off the register. He scribbled on the back of the teal and purple card, his handwriting messy.
"Never mind. Here." He set the card down and then gestured at it, unable to hand it to Blaine. "This is the 'who, what, when, where' of my ultrasound. You know the why, obviously. Okay, um. Either show or don't and if you don't, that's okay. Really okay." He told Blaine that he didn't want to see or hear from him before that date.
"Kurt."
They were standing too close.
Don't hug him, Kurt warned himself.
And he didn't.
Instead, in a wordless reply, he straightened Blaine's crooked bowtie. He lost his voice to mistrust and couldn't find anymore words for Blaine. Blaine tried desperately to continue their conversation and pull answers out of Kurt, wanting more than he could emotionally offer. He wiped at his eyes, snatching the card with Kurt's appointment information off the wet counter. Blaine stomped out of the store, looking broken once he realized Kurt had shutdown before him. He'd turned to stone, refusing to lift his gaze from the floor or open his ears to Blaine's begging. Kurt locked the door, his throat burning from suppressing a sob as he brought down the retractable security gate.
Needing time to calm down, he thought about taking another shot at organizing his office. Kurt decided against it, knowing he'd only succumb to another extended nap on that cherished chaise lounge. On his way to the subway station, Kurt stopped by a McDonald's for an order of french fries. As he waited on the crowded subway platform, he stuffed one cold fry into his mouth at a time.
He had only been home for a few minutes when there was a sharp knocking at his apartment door. He'd just peeled off his bomber jacket and his heart hammered at the urgent sound. (Let me in). Kurt smiled to himself, unsurprised and yet truly relieved. (I will). Tearing up, he took a deep breath and opened the door.
Rachel's voice smacked him in the face. "I've had the worst day ever," she cried. He caught a see-through bag of assorted ice cream that'd been swung at him.
Disappointment crackled deep within Kurt's chest and it hurt. He ignored it, insisting to himself that it had to do with something else entirely; Kurt was not let-down and he had nothing to be let-down about. Kurt held no expectations for Blaine's involvement with the baby and he counted on Blaine to do exactly as he was asked. It was Blaine's decision if he wanted to be a father or not. Kurt had learned from Rachel's unprofessional antics that Blaine was very good at following orders.
Continuing to have the whole "oblivious" thing down pat, Rachel shoved a bottle of wine at Kurt. She unzipped her knee-length boots while griping about an audition that'd gone horribly awry "thanks to that pompous jerk."
He zoned out, not listening to a word she said.
"Rachel. Rachel, hi." Kurt sighed irritably, nudging her boots out of the walkway. "I'm pregnant." This time, he'd intentionally blurted his news out. At least it'd shut her up, if only momentarily. He braced himself for an argument. She was about to freak out on him and Kurt couldn't get rid of her as easily as he had of Blaine.
Wait. The very, very last action he expected from Rachel was for her to clasp both hands over her mouth—over a smile.
"Oh, my gosh! Kurt," she gasped. "I knew you two weren't done yet. Gosh, Adam must be so ecstatic."
He mouthed a drawn out "no" before saying it out loud. "Adam and I, we're not... He isn't the..."
Rachel's excited grin faded only when he bluntly revealed to her who the father was. Instantly, she grew annoyed. Rachel demanded to know, "How long? How long, Kurt?"
"Oh, um. Like, almost two months?" Kurt gave his stomach an awkward pat. "Not too far along, as you can see. Got nothin' to show for it, yet." He chuckled and then let his shoulders fall, feeling goofy. Rachel rolled her eyes, impatient.
"No, how long have you two been together? How long have you been seeing him behind my back? How long have—?"
"Oh! No, no, no. We're not 'together' in any sense of the word," he admitted. "Any present tense of the word, anyhow. Say, remember that party you threw for my—?"
That'd been enough information for Rachel to connect the dots. Phew. He thought he'd have to spell it out for her, maybe draw a diagram or create a flip book. "You slept with him at your surprise party?"
Kurt feigned a shocked expression. "You mean he wasn't my surprise?" He tapped her lightly in the upper arm with the corked tip of the bottle of wine, pouting at her glare. "Lighten up, Rachel. You said you brought him to cheer me up." Mm-hmm, and how greatly he'd been cheered up by Blaine's penis.
"Never," she scoffed. "Never did I say that. The party was to cheer you up. I brought Blaine to help me decorate, not knock you up!"
"Yeah, well. Your party failed and it failed hard, Berry."
Rachel threw her arms out, her small hands strangling the air in front of her body. "Nothing I do is ever good enough for you." She turned away from Kurt and then spun back around. Shaking her head, she pulled her ponytail over her shoulder and twisted her fingers into the strands of hair. "But guess what? I'm not giving up. Your dad wouldn't want me to and—and neither would Finn." Rachel grabbed the wine from Kurt and sniffed. "And you can't have any of this." She hugged the chilled bottle, her chin tucked down.
They stood there in silence until Kurt scratched the back of his head. He tried to think of a polite way to verbally push her out of his apartment.
"I've had a long day, Rachel."
"You don't want to talk about the, um...?" Her eyes were fixed expectantly on his abdomen as if she were waiting on his stomach to suddenly inflate and finish her sentence.
"I've had a long day, Rachel."
She spoke softly as if to not spook him. "Let me stay the night," she countered. "And I'll let you keep the ice cream. Please, pretty please?" Kurt was wary, knowing she had more to say on the hot topic of his one night stand with her undergraduate TA and the subsequent pregnancy. "No questions, I promise. Absolutely no questions... Until morning. We'll go out for a judgment-free brunch! You can tell me everything over virgin mimosas. And I do mean 'everything,' Mr. Hummel." She accepted Kurt's cringe as an answer. "Yay. Thank you, thank you."
Rachel hopped over to the sofa in the living room and sat down. Placing the wine between her knees, she used a remote to turn the television on. She channel surfed, finally landing on a station airing the beginning of The Devil Wears Prada. "Oh! Double yay."
Kurt eventually joined her, appearing in pajamas and holding out a wineglass with a corkscrew in it. He slumped down beside her, an opened pint of mocha coffee ice cream in his other hand. Two tablespoons stuck out of the frozen dessert where some had already been dug out for a taste.
"Okay, one question. Where are you going to fit a baby?"
"I know, right? I think it grows and everything kind of stretches around it."
She elbowed him, amused and a little shocked. Rachel scrunched her nose. "No, I meant here. Where here are you going to fit a baby?"
"I can fit a crib in my room." He'd have to get rid of a clothes rack, though. She had a point. Kurt barely had enough room for himself in the tiny apartment, which was why he stored some stuff in his office at the store. "That should work for a while. I'll figure it out."
"You could always—"
He cut her off. "I will figure it out," Kurt said. He rested his head on her shoulder, able to relax once several comfortably quiet minutes had passed. Rachel was only holding back for him. He was grateful for their friendship and thought about ways he should start showing it (not that he was about to name his kid after her or anything, get real). Spoon in his mouth, Kurt focused on the movie and not Rachel's worried stare.
[:::][:::][:::]