Baby baby baby
Title: Baby baby baby
Fandom: Glee
Pairing: Puck/Kurt
Rating: PG-13
Genre: AU angst and fluff
Summary: Kurt is pregnant, not Quinn. No pairing but Puck/Kurt though.
Warnings: Mpreg. Proper mpreg, as in no science or explanations, because that's how I roll. XD
***
Kurt had gotten as far as sitting in the clinic, halfway through the forms. The clock was ticking, absurdly loudly, as though trying to warn him he was running out of time. And every little chime sounded like baby.
One girl was sniffling as she scribbled, an older woman huffing disapprovingly beside her. Another woman had been done with her pile of blue-grey-white forms since before Kurt had walked in, and was busy filing her talon-like nails with businesslike precision instead.
Tic-tock. Sniffle. Huff. Baby.
The receptionist was chewing obnoxiously, pausing every now and then to blow a big pink bubble. Outside, builders working on another part of the hospital were calling to each other. Kurt’s fingers slipped further down the pen, slick with anxious sweat.
Tic-tock. Sniffle. Huff. Baby.
Chew. File. Yell. Baby.
He resolutely moved onto the next section. Come on Kurt, pull yourself together. You can’t do this, He reasoned with himself. Think of your future. Think of your plans. New York. Fashion Design school...
Tic-toc. Sniffle. Huff. Chew.
File. Sniffle. Yell. Huff. Chew. Babybabybaby.
You can’t do this. “I can’t do this.”
Kurt jumped to his feet, flinging the clipboard and pen away as though its presence was physically repulsive. He was gasping, panting, clinging onto his car before he registered moving.
+++
He drives, salt water rolling down his face, blurring his vision until he can no longer see through the cascade of tears. He pulls over, sobbing, clutching the steering wheel till his hands are white and numb, throat hoarse from every painful cry.
---
He curls up on the floor beside his mother’s dresser, lights off, house empty, inhaling her scent. “What do I do, Mom?” he whispers, clenching his fingers around a tuft of blue carpet.
She doesn’t answer.
---
That night, Kurt dreams. He and Noah are walking through a field, their eldest child on Noah’s shoulders. Another child holds onto Kurt’s hand. The sun burns high above them; the empty sky full of endless light.
“It’s going to be alright.” Noah whispers, smiling up at their son.
Kurt turns away, and lets their daughter go- watches, as she scampers through the grass, and her laughter still rings in his ears when he wakes with a gasp, shivering, drenched in a cold sweat.
+++
Kurt stands in front of his mirror, tugging on the front of his jumper. Outside, the rain lashes down, smattering on the windows, wind howling. Kurt worries the fabric until the hem frays.
He’s being waiting for this moment for several days now, but Burt’s measured footsteps on the staircase uproot his conviction in seconds.
+++
Puck corners him after Glee, dragging him away from the others’ retreating backs. Kurt sags in his grip. This, more than the listless behaviour, the boring jeans-and-tee combo, this is what worries Puck the most. Where has the fire gone?
“What is up with you lately?”
For a moment, Kurt comes back to life, pulling out of his grasp, swaying with the force of the movement.
“I’m pregnant.”
The words seem to make it real.
+++
There are children everywhere. All Kurt wants to do is escape; to run, and run, and keep on running, until he runs out of his life and into someone else’s.
Instead, he runs until his cheeks are red and his muscles ache, until his breathe hurts and his eyes sting and he can run no more.
+++
The following morning, Puck intercepts him before Kurt can make it to the safety of the school building. They drive to nowhere in particular; out of the window, Kurt can see parched land in all directions. Silence has filled the car for hours, but it surges forwards when Puck cuts the engine.
“I’d take care of you, you know. If you kept it.”
Kurt’s mouth twitches into something that could be described as a smile. “I know.”
Together, they watch the sun as it creeps across the sky.
---
This time, Kurt and Noah stand on the front lawn of a little white house, so small and quaint that it could have been stolen from a fairytale. Beside the house grows a solitary apple tree, heavy with rich, red fruit. A tyre swing hangs from it; and their son and daughter call to them, waving in the golden light.
“I told you it would be alright.” Noah says, reaching for Kurt’s hand.
His fingers are cool, and yet somehow perfectly warm.
“Yes, you did.”
Kurt wakes with a smile on his face. Gradually, it falls away as he shakes the dream off. Can he really do this? He presses a hand to his stomach, the sloping curve so little, but so much.
---
Burt clenches his fists, his face steadily growing darker; Kurt can’t seem to tear his gaze away. He wants to take a step back, he wants to scream but instead he remains concrete. It’s what his Dad respects. Burt scrubs a hand across his face, avoiding his gaze, and Kurt can’t take it anymore.
“Dad, Daddy, please, I’m sorry, I’m so, so sorry...”
Burt crosses the space between them in two strides, gathering his son into his arms. This is not what he imagined for Kurt- but he holds him until his trembles subside.
---
“I want you to keep it. Yeah, my dad’s a deadbeat, but I don’t roll that way. Kurt I-”
Kurt presses a hand to Puck’s lips, allowing himself a real smile for the first time in weeks.
“It is a he. And I want to keep him too.”
He lets his hand drop away.
“Yeah?”
Kurt can’t resist kissing Puck’s stupid grin.
“Yeah.” He nods, before turning away to find a safe home for his satchel before Glee gets underway.
Puck shoots him mischievous glances as the other kids file in. Everyone accepts that they’re ‘friends’ now, and for the moment, that’s how Kurt wants things to stay.
As Mr Shue begins to chatter, enthusiastically waving sheet music, Kurt casually curls his arms over his abdomen. Babybabybaby. He thinks. For the moment, you’re our special secret.
---
Fandom: Glee
Pairing: Puck/Kurt
Rating: PG-13
Genre: AU angst and fluff
Summary: Kurt is pregnant, not Quinn. No pairing but Puck/Kurt though.
Warnings: Mpreg. Proper mpreg, as in no science or explanations, because that's how I roll. XD
***
Kurt had gotten as far as sitting in the clinic, halfway through the forms. The clock was ticking, absurdly loudly, as though trying to warn him he was running out of time. And every little chime sounded like baby.
One girl was sniffling as she scribbled, an older woman huffing disapprovingly beside her. Another woman had been done with her pile of blue-grey-white forms since before Kurt had walked in, and was busy filing her talon-like nails with businesslike precision instead.
Tic-tock. Sniffle. Huff. Baby.
The receptionist was chewing obnoxiously, pausing every now and then to blow a big pink bubble. Outside, builders working on another part of the hospital were calling to each other. Kurt’s fingers slipped further down the pen, slick with anxious sweat.
Tic-tock. Sniffle. Huff. Baby.
Chew. File. Yell. Baby.
He resolutely moved onto the next section. Come on Kurt, pull yourself together. You can’t do this, He reasoned with himself. Think of your future. Think of your plans. New York. Fashion Design school...
Tic-toc. Sniffle. Huff. Chew.
File. Sniffle. Yell. Huff. Chew. Babybabybaby.
You can’t do this. “I can’t do this.”
Kurt jumped to his feet, flinging the clipboard and pen away as though its presence was physically repulsive. He was gasping, panting, clinging onto his car before he registered moving.
+++
He drives, salt water rolling down his face, blurring his vision until he can no longer see through the cascade of tears. He pulls over, sobbing, clutching the steering wheel till his hands are white and numb, throat hoarse from every painful cry.
---
He curls up on the floor beside his mother’s dresser, lights off, house empty, inhaling her scent. “What do I do, Mom?” he whispers, clenching his fingers around a tuft of blue carpet.
She doesn’t answer.
---
That night, Kurt dreams. He and Noah are walking through a field, their eldest child on Noah’s shoulders. Another child holds onto Kurt’s hand. The sun burns high above them; the empty sky full of endless light.
“It’s going to be alright.” Noah whispers, smiling up at their son.
Kurt turns away, and lets their daughter go- watches, as she scampers through the grass, and her laughter still rings in his ears when he wakes with a gasp, shivering, drenched in a cold sweat.
+++
Kurt stands in front of his mirror, tugging on the front of his jumper. Outside, the rain lashes down, smattering on the windows, wind howling. Kurt worries the fabric until the hem frays.
He’s being waiting for this moment for several days now, but Burt’s measured footsteps on the staircase uproot his conviction in seconds.
+++
Puck corners him after Glee, dragging him away from the others’ retreating backs. Kurt sags in his grip. This, more than the listless behaviour, the boring jeans-and-tee combo, this is what worries Puck the most. Where has the fire gone?
“What is up with you lately?”
For a moment, Kurt comes back to life, pulling out of his grasp, swaying with the force of the movement.
“I’m pregnant.”
The words seem to make it real.
+++
There are children everywhere. All Kurt wants to do is escape; to run, and run, and keep on running, until he runs out of his life and into someone else’s.
Instead, he runs until his cheeks are red and his muscles ache, until his breathe hurts and his eyes sting and he can run no more.
+++
The following morning, Puck intercepts him before Kurt can make it to the safety of the school building. They drive to nowhere in particular; out of the window, Kurt can see parched land in all directions. Silence has filled the car for hours, but it surges forwards when Puck cuts the engine.
“I’d take care of you, you know. If you kept it.”
Kurt’s mouth twitches into something that could be described as a smile. “I know.”
Together, they watch the sun as it creeps across the sky.
---
This time, Kurt and Noah stand on the front lawn of a little white house, so small and quaint that it could have been stolen from a fairytale. Beside the house grows a solitary apple tree, heavy with rich, red fruit. A tyre swing hangs from it; and their son and daughter call to them, waving in the golden light.
“I told you it would be alright.” Noah says, reaching for Kurt’s hand.
His fingers are cool, and yet somehow perfectly warm.
“Yes, you did.”
Kurt wakes with a smile on his face. Gradually, it falls away as he shakes the dream off. Can he really do this? He presses a hand to his stomach, the sloping curve so little, but so much.
---
Burt clenches his fists, his face steadily growing darker; Kurt can’t seem to tear his gaze away. He wants to take a step back, he wants to scream but instead he remains concrete. It’s what his Dad respects. Burt scrubs a hand across his face, avoiding his gaze, and Kurt can’t take it anymore.
“Dad, Daddy, please, I’m sorry, I’m so, so sorry...”
Burt crosses the space between them in two strides, gathering his son into his arms. This is not what he imagined for Kurt- but he holds him until his trembles subside.
---
“I want you to keep it. Yeah, my dad’s a deadbeat, but I don’t roll that way. Kurt I-”
Kurt presses a hand to Puck’s lips, allowing himself a real smile for the first time in weeks.
“It is a he. And I want to keep him too.”
He lets his hand drop away.
“Yeah?”
Kurt can’t resist kissing Puck’s stupid grin.
“Yeah.” He nods, before turning away to find a safe home for his satchel before Glee gets underway.
Puck shoots him mischievous glances as the other kids file in. Everyone accepts that they’re ‘friends’ now, and for the moment, that’s how Kurt wants things to stay.
As Mr Shue begins to chatter, enthusiastically waving sheet music, Kurt casually curls his arms over his abdomen. Babybabybaby. He thinks. For the moment, you’re our special secret.
---