Pairings/Characters: Mild Kinn, eventual Klaine
Warnings/Spoilers: Mpreg, miscarriage, swearing
Length: 4,312 words
Summary: Kurt and Finn fool around in the beginning of Season Two, and Kurt gets pregnant. He deals with this, being bullied by Karofsky, and meeting Blaine. Spoilers through "Original Song."
Disclaimer: Glee belongs to Ryan Murphy and Fox. The concept of the Reddin gene in men belongs to ladydreamer. Credit were it's due.
“This doesn’t mean I’m gay,” Finn stammers as he and Kurt push the door of the boys’ room closed behind them, Finn’s hands under Kurt’s NYC t-shirt and Kurt knocking the cheap sunglasses off Finn’s face.
“Whatever,” Kurt pants, digging his hands into Finn’s hips. “You were so hot out there. Did I mention that?”
Finn blushes and they’re staggering backwards into an empty stall before Kurt digs his heels in.
“Whoa, whoa, no, we are not getting off in a public stall. I don’t even want to think about how many STDs are lying in wait.”
Finn obligingly lets himself be steered to the back wall where the paper towel dispenser is.
“Better,” Kurt pronounces, and he’s reaching up to kiss Finn. Finn’s trying to lose himself in the moment, but he breaks away after two seconds.
“Dude, the door? It doesn’t lock.”
Kurt waves a dismissive hand. “I put an ‘Out of Order’ sign on the front before lunch. I didn’t watch Veronica Mars religiously for nothing.”
Finn laughs and goes back in for more kissing, reassured that nobody’s about to walk in on them.
“I liked that show,” he shares, really liking the smell of Kurt’s hair. The guy uses great products, and Finn won’t admit it but he’s used Kurt’s shampoo a couple of times, too. Still doesn’t make him gay.
“Mm. I had a thing for Wallace,” Kurt replies, sucking Finn’s lower lip between his teeth. “Great hair, great smile, obviously deep in the closet and only dating girls because of insecurities.”
Finn laughs. “I don’t think he was--”
Kurt pulls back and glares at him. “We’ve got three minutes, Finn. You want to talk or make out?”
Finn shrugs his acquiescence, and make out they do.
Kurt’s having a very bad week, and he’s blaming it all on his new cycle-suppressant pills. Technically there’s no birth control pill for Reddin-positive men, so he has to make do with a hormone supplement instead. And this new prescription is really making him miserable. He’s had a low-grade nausea for three days, he’s even bitchier than usual, and he spent a whole afternoon in the nurses’ office yesterday with a migraine. So when he snaps at Mr. Shue over something as trivial as singing Britney Spears, he has to admit that something’s got to change. And it’s not his uptight teacher.
“I hate these new pills,” he gripes to his dad when he visits him in the shop. “I feel horrible, and I want to go back to my old prescription.”
Burt rolls a tire in need of patching into a corner and scrutinizes his son.
“You’ve been looking kinda peaky. You sure it’s not the flu?”
Kurt rolls his eyes and leans against his dad’s desk. He’s wiped after the day he’s had. Actually, he’s been exhausted all week.
“Dad, I’m not sick. I watch what I eat, I get eight hours a night, and I take multivitamins. I haven’t even had a cold in months.”
Burt still insists on feeling his forehead, just like Kurt’s six again, and squeezes his shoulder. “I’ll drive you home, and you’re going right to bed. If you’re still feeling lousy tomorrow, we’ll go to your doctor and see what she says. Okay?”
Kurt sighs, but appreciates his dad’s concern. “Okay.”
“No.” Kurt’s shaking his head, as if that’s going to erase the words he just heard. “No, that can’t be right. That’s not possible.”
“Kurt,” Dr. Steinen says gently. “You’re Reddin-positive. You know it’s possible.”
Kurt covers his mouth with his hands, thinking back frantically to what could have made his last round of pills ineffective. Then he remembers.
“Oh, crap,” he whimpers. “Those stupid vitamins. They had all that vitamin C, and it said right in the form not to take too much or--”
“It’s an easy mistake to make,” Dr. Steinen interrupts him. “I get all kinds of patients who don’t realize that a regular ingredient can interfere with their prescription. You’re not the first.”
“So how far along is he?” Burt speaks up. Kurt can’t even look at him, he’s so afraid of what he’ll see on his face.
“About four weeks,” Dr. Steinen says, glancing at her chart. “It’s early, but the tests are pretty accurate.”
Finn, Kurt thinks. It’s definitely Finn’s. Not like it could be anyone else’s.
Burt puts his hands on Kurt’s hunched shoulders, and Kurt looks up at him. His father looks pained, saddened and angry all at once.
“Dad, I’m sorry--” Kurt starts to say, but Burt interrupts him.
“Who did this to you?” he grinds out, and Kurt realizes that the anger isn’t directed at him at all.
“What? Dad, nobody did anything to me. I just...I had a one-time thing with a guy.” He turns a panicked face to Dr. Steinen. “We didn’t even go all the way! Even if my pills didn’t work, it shouldn’t mean that I’m...” He chokes on the word and buries his face in Burt’s shoulder.
“Actually,” Dr. Steinen replies, sounding deeply sympathetic. “If more than two doses are compromised, and any ejaculation occurred from the other boy, there’s a chance of fertilization. I’m sorry, Kurt.”
Kurt wants to die. He feels like the worst kind of idiot for thinking he was being so responsible that a few handjobs with Finn “Early Arrival” Hudson wouldn’t even matter. Shit.
Burt holds him in a bear hug. “It’s okay, Kurt. Whatever you wanna do, we’ll figure it out. It’s okay.”
The closest Kurt’s gotten to figuring out what he wants to do is buy a home pregnancy test, wait for the inevitable result, and fling it in Finn’s face when they’re getting ready for school the next day.
“You cretin!” he hisses. “You stupid, behemoth ass!”
“Hey!” Finn protests, backing up against the sink. “I didn’t know you were taking those vitamins! You told me you’d been on pills since you were twelve!”
He glances down at the EPT in the sink basin. “And if you already saw a doctor, why did you take a test?”
“For dramatic emphasis, Finn!” Kurt snaps, sounding eerily like Rachel. He huffs an angry breath. “Anyway, I’m just letting you know because I need somebody besides myself to blame.”
Finn furrows his brow. “Wait. Are you sure it’s mine? I mean, Quinn said the same thing.”
Kurt gives him his most withering glare. “I don’t go for Mohawk-sprouting Cobain wannabes, thank you. Anyway, Santana would kill me.”
“Yeah, well, Rachel’s gonna kill me,” Finn replies. “Unless there’s a way she doesn’t have to know?”
Kurt poses with a mock-thoughtful finger to his chin. “Gee, maybe we could tell everyone that I got slutty with some guy who doesn’t even go to McKinley and you’re just being a helpful kinda-stepbrother to me. How’s that?”
Finn blinks. “Uh...was that all sarcasm or is that really what you wanna do?”
“Well, it beats your idea!” Kurt snaps. “It’s nobody’s damn business anyway. I’ll be just another teen parent from Lima, Home of The Losers in the long run.”
“Dude, you’re not a loser,” Finn says awkwardly. “You’ve got more talent than practically anyone--”
Kurt holds up a stiff hand and backs away. “Not what I want to hear right now. I’ll see you later.”
He sweeps out the door.
There’s nothing quite like having a parent--your only parent--lying unconscious in a hospital bed to bring you some much-needed perspective, Kurt must admit.
He would skip school entirely if Carol didn’t insist that he at least show up for half-days while Burt is sick. He bails after lunch every day and rushes to his dad’s side, always hoping that this will be the day his eyes open or he squeezes Kurt’s hand. For a confirmed atheist, he sure has a lot of hope. Or maybe it’s denial.
“Dad,” he says at one point, “you’ve got to come through this for me....for your grandkid. He’s going to be so lucky to have you.” He chokes up for the millionth time in four days, letting the tears fall onto the hospital-issue blanket. “I’ve decided I want to keep him. I don’t even know if he is a him, but I know I can do this if you’ll just pull through. Please...”
And by the time his dad finally opens his eyes, Kurt knows that he’s made up his mind. Burt Hummel is going to be the best grandfather ever.
Kurt’s counting the days until the promised energy boost of the second trimester, but for now he’s running himself ragged looking after his dad and giving Sam Evans the more-than-once over. He’s not about to rush into anything, especially with the pregnancy, but Sam is cute and easygoing and Kurt’s lonely. Making out with Finn in every germ-ridden corner of the school is now out of the question. He can’t go one day without Karofsky slamming him into a locker (thank Gabbana he’s learned to pivot and take most of the impact on his side or back, rather than his stomach.) He needs a distraction, even if it means flirting with some guy who’s not that into him. At least a duet will mean a chance to release some creative energy. And he really wants to wear one of his latest costumes before he gets too big.
Then Burt tells him that Finn’s confessed to being the baby-daddy. And before Kurt can fulfill his dearest wish of storming off to kill Finn, Burt calls him back.
“Kurt, leave him alone. He was just doing the right thing. He said he felt like he was lyin’ to me and his mom by not saying anything before now. I wish you’d told me sooner.”
Kurt gets defensive. “It was my decision, Dad. I thought you’d kill him if you found out.”
Burt snorts. “Believe me, if I had a healthy ticker, he’d be laid out flat right now. But gettin’ mad at Finn isn’t going to change anything. I told him I was disappointed and I wished you’d both been more careful, but you’ve made your choice and that means you two are gonna be parents. So it’s time you accepted that he’s stepping up.”
Kurt sinks down on the couch beside Burt, feeling drained. “He wasn’t my first choice for the father of my children. I don’t think he even knows which end of a baby to change.”
Burt chuckles. “Good thing there are classes for that.”
Now that Finn’s told their parents, Kurt finds that it’s a weight off his shoulders. That doesn’t mean he’s about to tell the Glee club yet. Anyway, there’s the whole Rocky Horror debacle to deal with (Kurt tries to reassure Finn that he looks better in his underwear now than Kurt does) as well as Karofsky, who’s getting more and more violent in his shoving. Finn actually got into a fight with him over it one time, but even that wasn’t enough to make a difference. Kurt tries to spend as little time at his locker as possible and avoid Karofsky as much as he can. He takes to eating lunch outside, even though it’s cold, in order to keep from seeing him in the cafeteria.
So when he volunteers to infiltrate the den of the rival Warblers, it’s bliss to be away from the bully-ridden halls of McKinley for one afternoon. Nobody knows him here, and in his nondescript black coat and red tie, he can pass for a new student at a casual glance.
And then he meets Blaine. And sees him sing with the Warblers. And zing go the strings of his heart.
Whether it’s the lack of uniform or his unabashed gushing to Blaine and his buddies after their performance of “Teenage Dream,” he gives himself away as a McKinley student pretty fast. They’re really nice about it, though, and when he’s sitting alone with Blaine, his eyes, smile and overall manner are so freaking kind that it makes Kurt tear up right there in the fancy student lounge.
“Sorry,” he says, wiping his eyes with his sleeve. “I’m crazy hormonal.”
He didn’t mean to say it, but Blaine laughs like he told a joke. Then Kurt tells him about Karofsky and how fucking hard it is to be the only out kid in a place where nobody can help. What Blaine has to say about courage sticks with him the rest of the day, especially the part about refusing to be the victim.
He’s not just hurting you, you know, he reminds himself. He’s hurting your baby. Or he will, eventually, if you let this go on. Do you want to let that happen?
So it’s that thought, and Blaine’s little text reminder to him the next day, that spurs him to charge after Karofsky, righteous anger burning through him, and give him the speech he’s been tamping down inside for weeks. He wants the thug to hit him, just so he can have physical proof that this is not something anyone can ignore any longer.
But what he gets instead is so, so much worse than hit. It’s sloppy and hot and no no no gross get off me STOP! Kurt remains frozen, fingers against his mouth, fighting the urge to vomit long after Karofsky runs out of the room.
It’s shocking that a kiss can feel so good and welcome from one person--yes, Finn springs to mind, but he’s the only case for comparison Kurt has--and so invasive and wrong from another. He recognizes a sort of cold, disbelieving anger underneath the revulsion because now he knows that Karofsky’s a fucking hypocrite, a coward who picks on the only out gay kid because he’s too afraid to be out and proud, too.
He sits there until he reaches a decision. Things have gone on way too long. He’s going to tell Schue and the rest of the club, and Figgins, too, that he’s pregnant. At least that way, they’ll realize that it’s not just his life that’s being threatened. He owes his baby--son, he keeps thinking, even though it’s still too early to know for sure--that much.