Destination? Horror.
Title: Destination? Horror.
Author: Phelipa
Pairing: Kurt and Quinn (friendship)
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Based on the prompt from glee_fluff_meme : A Quinn/Kurt friendship fic, Finn's still mad at Quinn and Puck is still being a man-ho, so Quinn has nobody to take her to Lamaze classes. Kurt steps up to the plate.
AN: This is kind of cracky and semi-based of the fact that videos of REAL births are not at all like those shown in Juno and Knocked Up, as I learned this week from a highly informative labour and delivery class. I've been scribbling serious/angsty glee!fic down for months now and this is the first thing I post....
He finds her sitting in the choir room, sobbing like her heart’s about to break, while the others practice or skilfully ignore her outburst (he shoots an irritated look in Finn’s direction because no matter how drop dead gorgeous he looks in that polo, it is simply not tactful to leave a girl in hysterics, even if she did blow your heart to smithereens).
He heads in her direction but Rachel stops him,
“We already tried, Kurt. Brittany nearly lost an eye - maybe you should leave her be.”
He pulls himself up a little taller and takes a deep breath, he’ll take his chances (after all, he’s pretty sure he can outrun a seven month pregnant seventeen year old).
He sits next to her, puts an arm around her shoulder an asks,
“What’s wrong, mama?”
She looks at him like she’s trying to decide whether it’d be best to go for the throat or the balls and he’s suddenly regretting his decision, until she sighs heavily and shakes her head,
“It doesn’t matter, you don’t want to know.”
“Try me.”
She heaves another sigh, this time with an irritated glance out of the corner of her eye,
“I’ve been going to a stupid Lamaze class on Saturday afternoon at three and I am the only single person there. I’m paired with the instructor who is a creepy, hippie woman who is obsessed with the phrase ‘opening up like a flower’.”
Kurt grimaces and doesn’t probe, because he certainly doesn’t want to know what that’s all about,
“So, get Brittany to take you, aren’t you living with her?”
She snorts, “Can you imagine her at a Lamaze class? I don’t even know if she knows where babies come from yet.”
He chuckles and glances up at Brittany, who is presently dozing off while Santana works her long hair into a tight French braid. He looks around desperately,
“Puck? Santana? Rachel?”
“No, no, and hell, no. It’s weird enough that we’re speaking, I don’t need her present while a baby explodes out of me.”
“Ew.” He says simply, eyeing her belly warily.
They sit in silence and she wipes away the last few lingering tears, before struggling to her feet, balancing a hand on her belly,
“Sorry to cut this thrilling conversation short, but I have to pee.”
He watches her struggle down the couple steps before calling,
“Quinn? I’ll pick you up at two thirty.”
She glances back and she’s smiling, just a little,
“Make it two so we can stop at that ice cream place down the street, and you’ve got yourself a deal.”
*
“I’m going to hurl.” She complains as she settles down on the floor with her legs crossed in front of her, Kurt kneeling behind her.
He merely raises an eyebrow in a fashion that clearly states, I told you so, and comments,
“I warned you the second large scoop of rainbow bubble gum in a waffle cone was a terrible idea.”
She glares at him before correcting, “I am going to hurl on you.”
He opens his mouth to make a smart retort when the instructor (who is indeed very creepy and very hippie-like) steps to the front of the class with a placid smile and welcomes them all to the class, instructing them to pull out their bag of tools. Quinn reaches for the duffel bag next to her and pulls it closer, unzipping it and hunting around for something.
She places two neon tennis balls in his hands and motions for him to do what the instructor is currently demonstrating. He watches her sceptically for a moment before bringing one of the balls to the base of Quinn’s back, rolling it in his palm in the small dip above her waistband while she practices some sort of breathing technique.
“Now moms, imagine your cervix opening up like a flower as you practice your deep breathing.”
Quinn hears Kurt stifle a snicker behind her and can barely contain her own fit of giggles as she struggles to keep her breathing steady and the attention off of herself. She’s managed to control herself when he leans in and whispers,
“Let’s just hope no one sends you flowers when the kid’s born.”
She flushes bright pink when the entire class stares in her direction as she lets a few giggles slip past her lips, and jabs her elbow back into Kurt’s ribs, making him grunt in pain. He resumes his roll as expert tennis ball roller until they’re asked to switch positions, mom sitting up on the giant birthing ball, and he’s forced to learn a massage instead of the simple motion of rolling a ball.
The rest of the class goes off without a hitch, the two of them snickering over the ridiculous positions the instructor is making them assume, until the instructor informs them that she has a special surprise (which immediately makes Quinn a little wary). When she pulls out a video and pops it into the TV set at the front of the class, her wariness turns to definite fear as the screen flashes the title Natural Childbirth.
Twenty agonizing minutes later, the other couples are ooh-ing and aah-ing as the exhausted mother cradles her baby to her chest, her weeping evident even on the grainy screen. Quinn is staring at the screen in absolute horror because that is a big head and a very small hole. She turns to look at Kurt, who is suddenly looking rather green and equally horrified,
“One more reason to be thankful I’m gay, I will never have to see that up close.”
“Excuse me?!” She screeches, suddenly panicked, “You can’t leave me alone to do that by myself! Why do you think you’re here!?”
“Hell, no.” He says, pointing in the direction of the screen, “That - that is awful.”
“You don’t have to do it!” She protests, suddenly looking tearful and absolutely terrified.
“Look,” He says, patting her shoulder gingerly and eyeing her bump as if he’s afraid the thing’s going to bust out any second, “I feel for you, really - after seeing that movie I would never trade places with you, no matter how incredible your hair - but you’d better find a good midwife or something because there is no way in hell I’m staying for that.”
*
Two months later, he leaves the delivery room looking a little nauseated and a lot dazed, with a soft pink bundle held tight in his shaky arms. The others flock towards him as they catch a glimpse of the pink blanket, peering down at the dark haired baby girl who’s dozing in Kurt’s arms.
Brittany is positively bouncing, Santana clutching her hand to keep her grounded, and Rachel demands,
“How’s Quinn?”
“She - uh - she’s...” He trails off because he doesn’t really know how to explain, “She’s recovering.”
All eyes turn to his face, suddenly incredibly concerned but he waves them off,
“She’s ok, it’s just...
...it’s a big head, and a very small hole.”
*
Author: Phelipa
Pairing: Kurt and Quinn (friendship)
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Based on the prompt from glee_fluff_meme : A Quinn/Kurt friendship fic, Finn's still mad at Quinn and Puck is still being a man-ho, so Quinn has nobody to take her to Lamaze classes. Kurt steps up to the plate.
AN: This is kind of cracky and semi-based of the fact that videos of REAL births are not at all like those shown in Juno and Knocked Up, as I learned this week from a highly informative labour and delivery class. I've been scribbling serious/angsty glee!fic down for months now and this is the first thing I post....
He finds her sitting in the choir room, sobbing like her heart’s about to break, while the others practice or skilfully ignore her outburst (he shoots an irritated look in Finn’s direction because no matter how drop dead gorgeous he looks in that polo, it is simply not tactful to leave a girl in hysterics, even if she did blow your heart to smithereens).
He heads in her direction but Rachel stops him,
“We already tried, Kurt. Brittany nearly lost an eye - maybe you should leave her be.”
He pulls himself up a little taller and takes a deep breath, he’ll take his chances (after all, he’s pretty sure he can outrun a seven month pregnant seventeen year old).
He sits next to her, puts an arm around her shoulder an asks,
“What’s wrong, mama?”
She looks at him like she’s trying to decide whether it’d be best to go for the throat or the balls and he’s suddenly regretting his decision, until she sighs heavily and shakes her head,
“It doesn’t matter, you don’t want to know.”
“Try me.”
She heaves another sigh, this time with an irritated glance out of the corner of her eye,
“I’ve been going to a stupid Lamaze class on Saturday afternoon at three and I am the only single person there. I’m paired with the instructor who is a creepy, hippie woman who is obsessed with the phrase ‘opening up like a flower’.”
Kurt grimaces and doesn’t probe, because he certainly doesn’t want to know what that’s all about,
“So, get Brittany to take you, aren’t you living with her?”
She snorts, “Can you imagine her at a Lamaze class? I don’t even know if she knows where babies come from yet.”
He chuckles and glances up at Brittany, who is presently dozing off while Santana works her long hair into a tight French braid. He looks around desperately,
“Puck? Santana? Rachel?”
“No, no, and hell, no. It’s weird enough that we’re speaking, I don’t need her present while a baby explodes out of me.”
“Ew.” He says simply, eyeing her belly warily.
They sit in silence and she wipes away the last few lingering tears, before struggling to her feet, balancing a hand on her belly,
“Sorry to cut this thrilling conversation short, but I have to pee.”
He watches her struggle down the couple steps before calling,
“Quinn? I’ll pick you up at two thirty.”
She glances back and she’s smiling, just a little,
“Make it two so we can stop at that ice cream place down the street, and you’ve got yourself a deal.”
*
“I’m going to hurl.” She complains as she settles down on the floor with her legs crossed in front of her, Kurt kneeling behind her.
He merely raises an eyebrow in a fashion that clearly states, I told you so, and comments,
“I warned you the second large scoop of rainbow bubble gum in a waffle cone was a terrible idea.”
She glares at him before correcting, “I am going to hurl on you.”
He opens his mouth to make a smart retort when the instructor (who is indeed very creepy and very hippie-like) steps to the front of the class with a placid smile and welcomes them all to the class, instructing them to pull out their bag of tools. Quinn reaches for the duffel bag next to her and pulls it closer, unzipping it and hunting around for something.
She places two neon tennis balls in his hands and motions for him to do what the instructor is currently demonstrating. He watches her sceptically for a moment before bringing one of the balls to the base of Quinn’s back, rolling it in his palm in the small dip above her waistband while she practices some sort of breathing technique.
“Now moms, imagine your cervix opening up like a flower as you practice your deep breathing.”
Quinn hears Kurt stifle a snicker behind her and can barely contain her own fit of giggles as she struggles to keep her breathing steady and the attention off of herself. She’s managed to control herself when he leans in and whispers,
“Let’s just hope no one sends you flowers when the kid’s born.”
She flushes bright pink when the entire class stares in her direction as she lets a few giggles slip past her lips, and jabs her elbow back into Kurt’s ribs, making him grunt in pain. He resumes his roll as expert tennis ball roller until they’re asked to switch positions, mom sitting up on the giant birthing ball, and he’s forced to learn a massage instead of the simple motion of rolling a ball.
The rest of the class goes off without a hitch, the two of them snickering over the ridiculous positions the instructor is making them assume, until the instructor informs them that she has a special surprise (which immediately makes Quinn a little wary). When she pulls out a video and pops it into the TV set at the front of the class, her wariness turns to definite fear as the screen flashes the title Natural Childbirth.
Twenty agonizing minutes later, the other couples are ooh-ing and aah-ing as the exhausted mother cradles her baby to her chest, her weeping evident even on the grainy screen. Quinn is staring at the screen in absolute horror because that is a big head and a very small hole. She turns to look at Kurt, who is suddenly looking rather green and equally horrified,
“One more reason to be thankful I’m gay, I will never have to see that up close.”
“Excuse me?!” She screeches, suddenly panicked, “You can’t leave me alone to do that by myself! Why do you think you’re here!?”
“Hell, no.” He says, pointing in the direction of the screen, “That - that is awful.”
“You don’t have to do it!” She protests, suddenly looking tearful and absolutely terrified.
“Look,” He says, patting her shoulder gingerly and eyeing her bump as if he’s afraid the thing’s going to bust out any second, “I feel for you, really - after seeing that movie I would never trade places with you, no matter how incredible your hair - but you’d better find a good midwife or something because there is no way in hell I’m staying for that.”
*
Two months later, he leaves the delivery room looking a little nauseated and a lot dazed, with a soft pink bundle held tight in his shaky arms. The others flock towards him as they catch a glimpse of the pink blanket, peering down at the dark haired baby girl who’s dozing in Kurt’s arms.
Brittany is positively bouncing, Santana clutching her hand to keep her grounded, and Rachel demands,
“How’s Quinn?”
“She - uh - she’s...” He trails off because he doesn’t really know how to explain, “She’s recovering.”
All eyes turn to his face, suddenly incredibly concerned but he waves them off,
“She’s ok, it’s just...
...it’s a big head, and a very small hole.”
*