Let the Rain Sing You a Lullaby (Fic, Kurt/Quinn, Part 2)
Let the Rain Sing You a Lullaby
by aishuu
Fandom: Glee
Rating: Teen
Pairing: Kurt/Quinn
Wordcount: 3,800 (this section)
Warnings: Topics covered include teen pregnancy, sexuality/gender identity, abortion, discussion of the rape... nothing graphic, though.
Spoilers: Starts right after the Pilot, but this is a divergent story that takes some parallel lines before going completely away from the series canon. Still, anything through "Journey" is fair game.
Summary: How the series might have gone if Kurt was Quinn's baby daddy. Some romances don't fit into any box.
If yesterday was hard, today verges on almost impossible.
Quinn feels vulnerable as she moves down the hallway without the protection of her Cheerios uniform. Everyone is looking at her - and it's not just her paranoia, because she is the prime gossip fodder. The scandal is delicious for all of those who'd been beneath her in the social hierarchy of McKinley, and that's everyone. There is nothing like gloating over the spectacular fall of the school's It Girl.
It had taken her two hours this morning to decide on what to wear for her debut as the ex-cheerleader. Her depleted wardrobe doesn't offer many options, since her style is "girly girl" and almost everything in it are very feminine dresses. She'd finally picked out a blue and white dress she'd worn to church (church is the one place her parents don't let her wear her uniform, overruling Sue's twenty-four seven mandate). It is strange not to be wearing the ponytail. She'd never liked the hairstyle, but it had defined her as a Cheerio.
She knows she looks good, but that doesn't matter. She's not the hottest thing on campus anymore, since most guys (except for the deviants) think pregnancy is a major turn-off. Even if she's not showing, she still has a loaf in the oven.
She can hear the whispers as she strides down the hall. "Slut" is the politest thing they're saying, and it's totally unfair because Quinn's only ever had sex once (okay, it wasn't with her boyfriend, but she's a lot closer to virginity than eighty percent of her critics). A couple of the jocks make rude gestures at her, and all around her there's laughter, and she's the cause.
Quinn does not like being laughed at.
Finn stands beside her through it all. He's huge and provides good protection from the crowd, and the glare on his face looks out of place but works at deterring people from approaching. His callused hand is warm against her own as he guides her to first period. "It'll be okay," he tells her, leaning down to kiss her at the doorway of the math room. "I'll take care of you."
He is such an idiot, and she knows he can't take care of a goldfish, much less a child. But she watches him leave with wistful eyes, wondering if she's going to be able to keep up the charade. If Kurt can be convinced to stay out of the way, she just might have a chance of making things work out with Finn.
Finn deserves better than her, but she's going to be utterly ruthless and do what's best for her. And that means keeping her claws in her quarterback of a boyfriend.
While classes are horrible (since even the teachers are staring at her, and pretending not to), lunch is even worse because it's when she's baptized with a slushie.
Finn goes after that asshole Karofsky, but Quinn is frozen to the spot as the icy drink drips down her face. Someone makes a crack about it being a different kind of facial, and Quinn feels a blush of humiliation flood her cheeks. She doesn't know what to do or how to react, so she remains still.
Rachel Berry, of all people, comes to her rescue.
The school's former biggest loser (whose position Quinn usurped), comes up from nowhere and grabs Quinn's elbow. It's a sign of how much shock Quinn's in that she doesn't automatically recoil from the contact.
"Come on," Rachel demands, before pulling her into a girl's restroom. It's not the closest, which confuses Quinn, but when they walk in and she sees Mercedes and Tina there as well. Tina's holding a shower kit. There's a chair in front of the middle sink, and it looks like a warped version of a hair salon.
"We figured you'd get your first slushie today," Mercedes says, her voice more gentle than Quinn would have believed possible.
Twenty-four hours ago, Santana, Brittany and the other Cheerios would have been with her. The idea that she could have been slushied would have been impossible to imagine. Now she's surrounded by the girls she'd mocked, and they're being supportive. She feels like she's in some parallel universe.
"Why are you helping me?" she asks.
The answer comes from the most surprising place. "B-because y-y-you're one of u-u-us," Tina stammers. She holds out a little container of shampoo, and motions for Quinn to sit.
Tina's hands are gentle as she leans Quinn's head back into the sink and uses a paper cup to pour warm water on her hair and face. She shuts her eyes, wishing she could stop wanting to cry.
Their kindness could kill her. She doesn't deserve it.
But maybe this is God's answer to her, a reminder that she is still worth something. God works in mysterious ways.
Tina makes quick work of Quinn's hair, and then it's Mercedes turn. Mercedes has moisturizer and makeup, but the colors are surprisingly right for Quinn's pale complexion.
"Kurt told us to use his products, since he's the closest to your coloring," Mercedes says as she pulls out a bottle of foundation and uses a cotton ball to smooth it over Quinn's face.
Quinn can't help but flinch at hearing his name, now. Her reaction doesn't go unnoticed. The other girls exchange quick looks.
"I know the popular clique may think he's contagious, but you're not going to catch the gay from him or using his things," Mercedes scolds gently. "He's one of the neatest people I've ever met."
"It's not that," Quinn says. She shuts her eyes so Mercedes can apply mascara to her lashes.
"K-Kurt's a n-n-nice guy," Tina says. "Y-you sh-should give h-h-him a chance."
Quinn's already given him more of a chance than anyone else. The proof is growing inside her stomach.
"I know that your Evangelical Christian upbringing has made you homophobic, but it's a valid lifestyle choice. I was raised by two gay dads, and I turned out pretty well," Rachel announces.
The other girls keep silent, not pointing out the obvious.
She goes to Glee, because she skipped yesterday and Glee is all she has left. Finn sits beside her, wrapping her hand in his protectively.
She's surprised to see Brittany and Santana there, but they're in the back row, smirking at her in a not-nice way. She guesses Sue has ordered them to keep up their efforts to destroy the club. Puck is sitting next to Santana, and he avoids meeting Quinn's eyes.
Good. She would've slapped the motherfucker.
It's really a sign of how far she's been pushed in the last few days that she's swearing inside her head. Puck is a literal motherfucker, but Quinn is averse to swearing. Maybe if her life continues its downward spiral into loserdom, she might swear aloud.
Rachel walks into the choir room and offers Quinn a big smile, before flashing the same one at Finn. Quinn briefly considers blaming Rachel for the pregnancy, since Quinn never would have slept with Kurt if Finn hadn't been distracted by the diva.
She doesn't know what to expect from Kurt. Although they share a couple of classes, he hadn't reacted to her presence at all during the day. He didn't do anything to indicate he knew her, but at least he hadn't joined in the gossip. That's a small blessing, because there's plenty of others willing to pick up the slack.
He walks into the choir room last, striding over to take the seat next to Mercedes. Mercedes grins at him, immediately turning to talk about something fashion related. Kurt listens to Mercedes, but is uncharacteristically quiet.
Quinn watches him, evaluating. Kurt's standoffish, even with people he calls his friends. Most people are secretly of in awe of him and his guts to act like a gay stereotype, especially since he joined the football team. He'd secured them their first win in three seasons, which omphed his popularity quotient considerably. He is smart, and he dresses well. He obviously has money, and what little Quinn knows about child rearing indicates it's going to be expensive.
He has all the qualities Finn is missing, but he lacks Finn's greatest attribute: he can't protect her.
He can't even protect himself.
Kurt keeps his eyes on Mercedes, letting the black girl babble, and not sparing a look for Quinn. Quinn reminds herself not to feel jealous, because she's seated beside her handsome quarterback boyfriend. At dinner tonight, she's going to make sure Kurt knows where he stands with her - which is absolutely nowhere. Finn, she decides, is going to be the father of her child. Everyone will be better off that way.
The hour between the end of Glee and their scheduled dinner is easy to fill. Quinn goes down to the public library, checking out a couple of books on pregnancy. The librarian asks if she's doing a book report, and Quinn just smiles and nods.
Quinn's education is lacking. Her parents had signed her out of health class, since Ohio isn't an "abstinence only" education state. Pregnancy is one of those things she'd never been particularly curious about, because it was God's miracle that wouldn't take place until she was happily married.
As she flips through The Ultimate Week-By-Week Pregnancy Guide she is horrified. The book babbles about the joy of pregnancy, but Quinn thinks it looks uncomfortable and weird and at the end is hours of agonizing labor, all for a baby which she most likely will give up.
She is going to end up with stretch marks.
It's almost enough for her to consider having Sue make a referral.
But it is God's miracle, and even if she is miserable, she has to trust that this is part of His plan.
She's running two minutes late. Kurt seems like the kind of person to notice that.
Quinn hits the buzzer on his door before she can have a chance to think about what she's doing. She hopes he answers quickly, because she really doesn't want to explain what she's doing if someone sees her outside his home. She knows the jock squad makes irregular passes by his house, usually throwing eggs or leaving burning dog crap on his porch.
Kurt, thankfully, seems to be waiting for her because the door opens immediately.
"Come in," he says, gesturing for her to enter with a very effeminate waggle of his fingers. He steps away from the door, and she notices his clothing. It's still high-quality, with brand-name jeans and a nice top, but he's lacking the usual abundance of layers and accessories that make him the focus of so much mockery.
Kurt looks more approachable. It's a surprise, but a pleasant one.
"Thanks," she says, not bothering to restrain her curiosity about his residence. She doesn't remember much of it from before. The house isn't anything like she is expecting, either.
The house is tidy, but not immaculate. As he leads her through the living room, she thinks that while the furniture is good and the place is clean, it's not museum-pristine. The place looks lived in, with slight signs of wear and hints of personality like the huge array of magazines piled on the coffee table.
Her friends have always been impressed when visiting her home, saying things like, "Your house looks like it belongs in a magazine!" It does, too, and she is proud of her home. It's hard to live in, though. Ever since she was little, she's been very aware of the need to maintain appearances. There's several chairs in her house she's never sat in, knowing that getting them mussed would send her parents through the roof.
"The kitchen's this way. I figured we could work on making dinner together."
"Sounds fun," Quinn said, lying through her teeth. None of the Home Ec classes she's taken have ever sunk in, and she doesn't think it's a great idea to be having this conversation with knives at hand.
He doesn't notice, pushing her into a well-appointed, but not overly elaborate kitchen. It's a sunshine yellow with dark blue counter tops. There's no cute theme (like her mother's cow-patterns and decorated utensils and plates and furnishings) running through the kitchen. Instead, it's clean but utilitarian.
There's ingredients out on an island, a pile of vegetables and a couple of empty dishes. The lettuce has been shredded into bite-size pieces, but nothing else is completed. "There's an apron in the drawer if you'd like," he offers.
She shakes her head. "I'll be okay," she says, stepping over to the sink to wash her hands. Kurt shrugs, picking up the knife and works on chopping tomatoes.
As soon as her hands are clean, she turns back to him. He's doing okay with his dicing, but the pieces aren't perfectly even. She would have thought he'd be a better cook since it's kind of another aspect of the gay stereotype. Maybe the fact that he can cook is enough, since none of her friends do.
"What can I do to help?"
He gestures to the carrots. "How about shredding those?"
She picks up the vegetable peeler and grabs an empty bowl, figuring they can mix things together after they've finished. She's standing across the island, but she doesn't feel comfortable getting too close to him. She scrapes the outside of the carrots into a paper towel before working on shredding it into the bowl. Quinn isn't used to manual labor, and she finds it more challenging than she expects.
She frowns, her stubborn streak kicking in. She's an honor roll student. She can do this.
Quinn's concentrating so hard that she forgets to feel awkward. She manages to work through three carrots before remembering where she is.
Kurt's assembled everything else, placing each ingredient in its own bowl. The timer goes off and he's pulling a meatloaf out of the oven and setting it on a potholder. "Are you in the mood for rolls?" he asks.
A week ago, she would have rejected the carbs without a second thought. But the pregnancy book had warned her she was going to get fat, so why fight it? "Sure," she says.
"Help me bring everything over to the table, and we can start."
The table is small, not at all like the dining room her family eats in every evening. Kurt manages to squeeze all the bowls and the meatloaf onto the table, before pulling out a bread basket. Without asking, he fills up two glasses of milk and sets one in front of her.
Quinn's never been a big fan of milk. She glares at the cup, before deciding to just ignore it. Getting into a fight over something trivial isn't going to help her right now. They have something much, much more significant to fight about.
"Do you want to say grace?" he asks.
Quinn's become used to other kids making sly jabs about her faith. She blinks, wondering if he is mocking her. His face just shows curiosity. "Thank you," she says, before putting her hands together to pray. It's better to hold hands during grace, but she doesn't think Kurt wants to touch her. She's not particularly keen on the idea, either. She murmurs the prayer, and Kurt joins in for the "Amen."
They pick up their forks in unison, but Quinn hesitates before digging in. She hasn't eaten a real meal since joining the Cheerios. Sue Sylvester is a staunch advocate of a liquid-only diet, and Quinn feels guilty staring at the food. Even though she is off the squad, the habits that have been trained into her are hard to ignore.
Maybe she should eat just a bit of lettuce. Changing her diet all at once can't be a good idea.
Kurt notices she hasn't begun eating yet. The fork pauses at his plate. "Do you want me to cut it up for you?" he asks.
She glares at him. "I'm perfectly capable of feeding myself."
"Are you?" he asks. "I seem to recall the Cheerio diet fad that swept through the school six months ago. Master Cleanse does not good nutrition make."
"I'm not using Master Cleanse," she snapped back. She didn't need anything to induce vomiting, since pregnancy was taking good care of that.
"You're not used to eating right, either. You need to eat properly," he tells her. "It's not just you you're feeding."
Quinn hadn't thought of that. She's been thinking of what carrying the baby would do to her body, but not what she needs to do to carry a baby. She just hadn't made the connection.
It's really hard to overcome years of indoctrination. Quinn decides that if she's off the Cheerios, she might as well find a silver lining, like rediscovering the taste of solid food.
The food tastes heavenly. Quinn uses ranch dressing on her salad (low fat, but it's dressing), and eats two servings of the meatloaf. She reminds herself that she doesn't have to worry about next week's weigh-in.
Kurt's eating small portion sizes as well. He eats half his salad before putting his fork down. "Why did you say Finn was the father?"
Quinn stiffens, wondering why he would start with that question. The answer is blindingly obvious. "Because I wanted him to be," she said. "If I wanted a child at all, it would be with him."
And that's true, because of all the guys she knows, Finn is closest to her ideal boyfriend. He's gorgeous and kind, and he lets her be in charge of the relationship. She likes having a guy whom she can boss around and who treats her like a princess. Best of all, no one would dare to mess with him, since he's the most popular boy in school.
"I see," he says. Kurt is none of those things, she can't help but think. He's handsome in a pretty kind of way, but he's not masculine. She doesn't know Kurt well enough to say if he's kind or not, but he does have a razor sharp wit he turns mercilessly on people who annoy him. Kurt definitely isn't going to do whatever she wants him to - she wouldn't be here if it was her choice, after all.
And it goes without saying that people loved messing with Kurt.
She must have been silent for too long, because Kurt is asking another question. She has to ask him to repeat himself since she was too lost in thought to hear it the first time.
"What have your parents said?"
Quinn feels the blood drain from her face. She still hasn't told them that she isn't a Cheerio anymore. Her mother and father are still making plans for the Chastity Ball. There's no way in hell she's going to tell them she had premarital sex that has resulted in an impending child.
Kurt, once again, displays that almost uncanny ability to read her mind. "You didn't tell them," he says, rather than asks. He sighs, shaking his head. "You need to. My dad took it pretty well, all thing considered.
"You told your father?!"
"Of course I told my father," he tells her witheringly. "He's about to become a grandfather."
"But-but..." She wonders if this is what a panic attack feels like. "He might tell my parents!"
"Do you think you can keep being pregnant a secret?" The look he levels on her questions her intelligence. "You're maybe 100 pounds right now, so you're going to gain at least thirty pounds. It's going to be impossible to hide it."
She's so upset she doesn't realize she's slapped him until she feels the tingle in her fingers. She's on her feet, leaning over the table, with no memory of rising.
Kurt stares at her, shocked. He raises a hand to his cheek, which is rapidly turning pink. She doesn't think he's going to bruise, but she's disgusted with herself for losing control so dramatically.
She cringes, waiting for him to retaliate.
His fingers fall away from his skin, and he looks at her with narrowed eyes. "Let's get one thing clear. I will not be your punching bag."
"But you'll be everyone else's?" she exclaims, thinking of all the times she's seen him abused. "Do you even know how to fight?!"
"I'll fight you for custody," he tells her. "Don't think that I won't drag this whole mess into public, because I sure as hell will."
Before, she'd always thought of Kurt as a wuss for taking whatever the jocks dished out to him. He'd never broken down in tears or begged to be spared, but he hadn't fought back. She had thought it was because he was a wimp.
Now she thinks that Kurt ignored the abuse because it wasn't that important to him.
Not like their child is going to be.
"Why are you doing this?" she demands. "I don't understand why you want to be involved!" If Quinn had a choice, she certainly wouldn't be stepping forward to claim responsibility for a teenage pregnancy.
She's made him angry.
"Because it's my child," he growls. "There is nothing in this world that's going to stop me from being part of his life."
"You don't know it's a boy."
"The masculine pronoun is an acceptable substitute in English when the gender is unknown," he says, rolling his eyes. "Do you want to argue linguistics with me, or are you going to admit I'm right?"
Her mouth opens and closes, but no sound comes out. It's probably a good thing, since there's no way of telling what she would say, except that it would probably be cruel. She makes herself sit back down, not wanting to escalate things anymore.
Kurt is visibly struggling to remain calm. He takes a deep breath, before letting it out slowly. "I can understand why you might be overwrought, but I'm not happy about this, either. The best thing we can do it figure out the best plan to deal with our impending parenthood."
Logically, she knows he's right. Emotionally, she doesn't. She very much wants to stick her head in the sand and pretend her life is going to go back to normal.
"I need time to think," she tells him. "You can't expect me to make decisions right now."
"Time is not on our side here. I'll give you until Monday," he tells her. "After that, I'm stepping forward."
She shuts her eyes, but doesn't say anything. There's really nothing to say. Kurt isn't going to let her keep lying.
Part 3
by aishuu
Fandom: Glee
Rating: Teen
Pairing: Kurt/Quinn
Wordcount: 3,800 (this section)
Warnings: Topics covered include teen pregnancy, sexuality/gender identity, abortion, discussion of the rape... nothing graphic, though.
Spoilers: Starts right after the Pilot, but this is a divergent story that takes some parallel lines before going completely away from the series canon. Still, anything through "Journey" is fair game.
Summary: How the series might have gone if Kurt was Quinn's baby daddy. Some romances don't fit into any box.
If yesterday was hard, today verges on almost impossible.
Quinn feels vulnerable as she moves down the hallway without the protection of her Cheerios uniform. Everyone is looking at her - and it's not just her paranoia, because she is the prime gossip fodder. The scandal is delicious for all of those who'd been beneath her in the social hierarchy of McKinley, and that's everyone. There is nothing like gloating over the spectacular fall of the school's It Girl.
It had taken her two hours this morning to decide on what to wear for her debut as the ex-cheerleader. Her depleted wardrobe doesn't offer many options, since her style is "girly girl" and almost everything in it are very feminine dresses. She'd finally picked out a blue and white dress she'd worn to church (church is the one place her parents don't let her wear her uniform, overruling Sue's twenty-four seven mandate). It is strange not to be wearing the ponytail. She'd never liked the hairstyle, but it had defined her as a Cheerio.
She knows she looks good, but that doesn't matter. She's not the hottest thing on campus anymore, since most guys (except for the deviants) think pregnancy is a major turn-off. Even if she's not showing, she still has a loaf in the oven.
She can hear the whispers as she strides down the hall. "Slut" is the politest thing they're saying, and it's totally unfair because Quinn's only ever had sex once (okay, it wasn't with her boyfriend, but she's a lot closer to virginity than eighty percent of her critics). A couple of the jocks make rude gestures at her, and all around her there's laughter, and she's the cause.
Quinn does not like being laughed at.
Finn stands beside her through it all. He's huge and provides good protection from the crowd, and the glare on his face looks out of place but works at deterring people from approaching. His callused hand is warm against her own as he guides her to first period. "It'll be okay," he tells her, leaning down to kiss her at the doorway of the math room. "I'll take care of you."
He is such an idiot, and she knows he can't take care of a goldfish, much less a child. But she watches him leave with wistful eyes, wondering if she's going to be able to keep up the charade. If Kurt can be convinced to stay out of the way, she just might have a chance of making things work out with Finn.
Finn deserves better than her, but she's going to be utterly ruthless and do what's best for her. And that means keeping her claws in her quarterback of a boyfriend.
While classes are horrible (since even the teachers are staring at her, and pretending not to), lunch is even worse because it's when she's baptized with a slushie.
Finn goes after that asshole Karofsky, but Quinn is frozen to the spot as the icy drink drips down her face. Someone makes a crack about it being a different kind of facial, and Quinn feels a blush of humiliation flood her cheeks. She doesn't know what to do or how to react, so she remains still.
Rachel Berry, of all people, comes to her rescue.
The school's former biggest loser (whose position Quinn usurped), comes up from nowhere and grabs Quinn's elbow. It's a sign of how much shock Quinn's in that she doesn't automatically recoil from the contact.
"Come on," Rachel demands, before pulling her into a girl's restroom. It's not the closest, which confuses Quinn, but when they walk in and she sees Mercedes and Tina there as well. Tina's holding a shower kit. There's a chair in front of the middle sink, and it looks like a warped version of a hair salon.
"We figured you'd get your first slushie today," Mercedes says, her voice more gentle than Quinn would have believed possible.
Twenty-four hours ago, Santana, Brittany and the other Cheerios would have been with her. The idea that she could have been slushied would have been impossible to imagine. Now she's surrounded by the girls she'd mocked, and they're being supportive. She feels like she's in some parallel universe.
"Why are you helping me?" she asks.
The answer comes from the most surprising place. "B-because y-y-you're one of u-u-us," Tina stammers. She holds out a little container of shampoo, and motions for Quinn to sit.
Tina's hands are gentle as she leans Quinn's head back into the sink and uses a paper cup to pour warm water on her hair and face. She shuts her eyes, wishing she could stop wanting to cry.
Their kindness could kill her. She doesn't deserve it.
But maybe this is God's answer to her, a reminder that she is still worth something. God works in mysterious ways.
Tina makes quick work of Quinn's hair, and then it's Mercedes turn. Mercedes has moisturizer and makeup, but the colors are surprisingly right for Quinn's pale complexion.
"Kurt told us to use his products, since he's the closest to your coloring," Mercedes says as she pulls out a bottle of foundation and uses a cotton ball to smooth it over Quinn's face.
Quinn can't help but flinch at hearing his name, now. Her reaction doesn't go unnoticed. The other girls exchange quick looks.
"I know the popular clique may think he's contagious, but you're not going to catch the gay from him or using his things," Mercedes scolds gently. "He's one of the neatest people I've ever met."
"It's not that," Quinn says. She shuts her eyes so Mercedes can apply mascara to her lashes.
"K-Kurt's a n-n-nice guy," Tina says. "Y-you sh-should give h-h-him a chance."
Quinn's already given him more of a chance than anyone else. The proof is growing inside her stomach.
"I know that your Evangelical Christian upbringing has made you homophobic, but it's a valid lifestyle choice. I was raised by two gay dads, and I turned out pretty well," Rachel announces.
The other girls keep silent, not pointing out the obvious.
She goes to Glee, because she skipped yesterday and Glee is all she has left. Finn sits beside her, wrapping her hand in his protectively.
She's surprised to see Brittany and Santana there, but they're in the back row, smirking at her in a not-nice way. She guesses Sue has ordered them to keep up their efforts to destroy the club. Puck is sitting next to Santana, and he avoids meeting Quinn's eyes.
Good. She would've slapped the motherfucker.
It's really a sign of how far she's been pushed in the last few days that she's swearing inside her head. Puck is a literal motherfucker, but Quinn is averse to swearing. Maybe if her life continues its downward spiral into loserdom, she might swear aloud.
Rachel walks into the choir room and offers Quinn a big smile, before flashing the same one at Finn. Quinn briefly considers blaming Rachel for the pregnancy, since Quinn never would have slept with Kurt if Finn hadn't been distracted by the diva.
She doesn't know what to expect from Kurt. Although they share a couple of classes, he hadn't reacted to her presence at all during the day. He didn't do anything to indicate he knew her, but at least he hadn't joined in the gossip. That's a small blessing, because there's plenty of others willing to pick up the slack.
He walks into the choir room last, striding over to take the seat next to Mercedes. Mercedes grins at him, immediately turning to talk about something fashion related. Kurt listens to Mercedes, but is uncharacteristically quiet.
Quinn watches him, evaluating. Kurt's standoffish, even with people he calls his friends. Most people are secretly of in awe of him and his guts to act like a gay stereotype, especially since he joined the football team. He'd secured them their first win in three seasons, which omphed his popularity quotient considerably. He is smart, and he dresses well. He obviously has money, and what little Quinn knows about child rearing indicates it's going to be expensive.
He has all the qualities Finn is missing, but he lacks Finn's greatest attribute: he can't protect her.
He can't even protect himself.
Kurt keeps his eyes on Mercedes, letting the black girl babble, and not sparing a look for Quinn. Quinn reminds herself not to feel jealous, because she's seated beside her handsome quarterback boyfriend. At dinner tonight, she's going to make sure Kurt knows where he stands with her - which is absolutely nowhere. Finn, she decides, is going to be the father of her child. Everyone will be better off that way.
The hour between the end of Glee and their scheduled dinner is easy to fill. Quinn goes down to the public library, checking out a couple of books on pregnancy. The librarian asks if she's doing a book report, and Quinn just smiles and nods.
Quinn's education is lacking. Her parents had signed her out of health class, since Ohio isn't an "abstinence only" education state. Pregnancy is one of those things she'd never been particularly curious about, because it was God's miracle that wouldn't take place until she was happily married.
As she flips through The Ultimate Week-By-Week Pregnancy Guide she is horrified. The book babbles about the joy of pregnancy, but Quinn thinks it looks uncomfortable and weird and at the end is hours of agonizing labor, all for a baby which she most likely will give up.
She is going to end up with stretch marks.
It's almost enough for her to consider having Sue make a referral.
But it is God's miracle, and even if she is miserable, she has to trust that this is part of His plan.
She's running two minutes late. Kurt seems like the kind of person to notice that.
Quinn hits the buzzer on his door before she can have a chance to think about what she's doing. She hopes he answers quickly, because she really doesn't want to explain what she's doing if someone sees her outside his home. She knows the jock squad makes irregular passes by his house, usually throwing eggs or leaving burning dog crap on his porch.
Kurt, thankfully, seems to be waiting for her because the door opens immediately.
"Come in," he says, gesturing for her to enter with a very effeminate waggle of his fingers. He steps away from the door, and she notices his clothing. It's still high-quality, with brand-name jeans and a nice top, but he's lacking the usual abundance of layers and accessories that make him the focus of so much mockery.
Kurt looks more approachable. It's a surprise, but a pleasant one.
"Thanks," she says, not bothering to restrain her curiosity about his residence. She doesn't remember much of it from before. The house isn't anything like she is expecting, either.
The house is tidy, but not immaculate. As he leads her through the living room, she thinks that while the furniture is good and the place is clean, it's not museum-pristine. The place looks lived in, with slight signs of wear and hints of personality like the huge array of magazines piled on the coffee table.
Her friends have always been impressed when visiting her home, saying things like, "Your house looks like it belongs in a magazine!" It does, too, and she is proud of her home. It's hard to live in, though. Ever since she was little, she's been very aware of the need to maintain appearances. There's several chairs in her house she's never sat in, knowing that getting them mussed would send her parents through the roof.
"The kitchen's this way. I figured we could work on making dinner together."
"Sounds fun," Quinn said, lying through her teeth. None of the Home Ec classes she's taken have ever sunk in, and she doesn't think it's a great idea to be having this conversation with knives at hand.
He doesn't notice, pushing her into a well-appointed, but not overly elaborate kitchen. It's a sunshine yellow with dark blue counter tops. There's no cute theme (like her mother's cow-patterns and decorated utensils and plates and furnishings) running through the kitchen. Instead, it's clean but utilitarian.
There's ingredients out on an island, a pile of vegetables and a couple of empty dishes. The lettuce has been shredded into bite-size pieces, but nothing else is completed. "There's an apron in the drawer if you'd like," he offers.
She shakes her head. "I'll be okay," she says, stepping over to the sink to wash her hands. Kurt shrugs, picking up the knife and works on chopping tomatoes.
As soon as her hands are clean, she turns back to him. He's doing okay with his dicing, but the pieces aren't perfectly even. She would have thought he'd be a better cook since it's kind of another aspect of the gay stereotype. Maybe the fact that he can cook is enough, since none of her friends do.
"What can I do to help?"
He gestures to the carrots. "How about shredding those?"
She picks up the vegetable peeler and grabs an empty bowl, figuring they can mix things together after they've finished. She's standing across the island, but she doesn't feel comfortable getting too close to him. She scrapes the outside of the carrots into a paper towel before working on shredding it into the bowl. Quinn isn't used to manual labor, and she finds it more challenging than she expects.
She frowns, her stubborn streak kicking in. She's an honor roll student. She can do this.
Quinn's concentrating so hard that she forgets to feel awkward. She manages to work through three carrots before remembering where she is.
Kurt's assembled everything else, placing each ingredient in its own bowl. The timer goes off and he's pulling a meatloaf out of the oven and setting it on a potholder. "Are you in the mood for rolls?" he asks.
A week ago, she would have rejected the carbs without a second thought. But the pregnancy book had warned her she was going to get fat, so why fight it? "Sure," she says.
"Help me bring everything over to the table, and we can start."
The table is small, not at all like the dining room her family eats in every evening. Kurt manages to squeeze all the bowls and the meatloaf onto the table, before pulling out a bread basket. Without asking, he fills up two glasses of milk and sets one in front of her.
Quinn's never been a big fan of milk. She glares at the cup, before deciding to just ignore it. Getting into a fight over something trivial isn't going to help her right now. They have something much, much more significant to fight about.
"Do you want to say grace?" he asks.
Quinn's become used to other kids making sly jabs about her faith. She blinks, wondering if he is mocking her. His face just shows curiosity. "Thank you," she says, before putting her hands together to pray. It's better to hold hands during grace, but she doesn't think Kurt wants to touch her. She's not particularly keen on the idea, either. She murmurs the prayer, and Kurt joins in for the "Amen."
They pick up their forks in unison, but Quinn hesitates before digging in. She hasn't eaten a real meal since joining the Cheerios. Sue Sylvester is a staunch advocate of a liquid-only diet, and Quinn feels guilty staring at the food. Even though she is off the squad, the habits that have been trained into her are hard to ignore.
Maybe she should eat just a bit of lettuce. Changing her diet all at once can't be a good idea.
Kurt notices she hasn't begun eating yet. The fork pauses at his plate. "Do you want me to cut it up for you?" he asks.
She glares at him. "I'm perfectly capable of feeding myself."
"Are you?" he asks. "I seem to recall the Cheerio diet fad that swept through the school six months ago. Master Cleanse does not good nutrition make."
"I'm not using Master Cleanse," she snapped back. She didn't need anything to induce vomiting, since pregnancy was taking good care of that.
"You're not used to eating right, either. You need to eat properly," he tells her. "It's not just you you're feeding."
Quinn hadn't thought of that. She's been thinking of what carrying the baby would do to her body, but not what she needs to do to carry a baby. She just hadn't made the connection.
It's really hard to overcome years of indoctrination. Quinn decides that if she's off the Cheerios, she might as well find a silver lining, like rediscovering the taste of solid food.
The food tastes heavenly. Quinn uses ranch dressing on her salad (low fat, but it's dressing), and eats two servings of the meatloaf. She reminds herself that she doesn't have to worry about next week's weigh-in.
Kurt's eating small portion sizes as well. He eats half his salad before putting his fork down. "Why did you say Finn was the father?"
Quinn stiffens, wondering why he would start with that question. The answer is blindingly obvious. "Because I wanted him to be," she said. "If I wanted a child at all, it would be with him."
And that's true, because of all the guys she knows, Finn is closest to her ideal boyfriend. He's gorgeous and kind, and he lets her be in charge of the relationship. She likes having a guy whom she can boss around and who treats her like a princess. Best of all, no one would dare to mess with him, since he's the most popular boy in school.
"I see," he says. Kurt is none of those things, she can't help but think. He's handsome in a pretty kind of way, but he's not masculine. She doesn't know Kurt well enough to say if he's kind or not, but he does have a razor sharp wit he turns mercilessly on people who annoy him. Kurt definitely isn't going to do whatever she wants him to - she wouldn't be here if it was her choice, after all.
And it goes without saying that people loved messing with Kurt.
She must have been silent for too long, because Kurt is asking another question. She has to ask him to repeat himself since she was too lost in thought to hear it the first time.
"What have your parents said?"
Quinn feels the blood drain from her face. She still hasn't told them that she isn't a Cheerio anymore. Her mother and father are still making plans for the Chastity Ball. There's no way in hell she's going to tell them she had premarital sex that has resulted in an impending child.
Kurt, once again, displays that almost uncanny ability to read her mind. "You didn't tell them," he says, rather than asks. He sighs, shaking his head. "You need to. My dad took it pretty well, all thing considered.
"You told your father?!"
"Of course I told my father," he tells her witheringly. "He's about to become a grandfather."
"But-but..." She wonders if this is what a panic attack feels like. "He might tell my parents!"
"Do you think you can keep being pregnant a secret?" The look he levels on her questions her intelligence. "You're maybe 100 pounds right now, so you're going to gain at least thirty pounds. It's going to be impossible to hide it."
She's so upset she doesn't realize she's slapped him until she feels the tingle in her fingers. She's on her feet, leaning over the table, with no memory of rising.
Kurt stares at her, shocked. He raises a hand to his cheek, which is rapidly turning pink. She doesn't think he's going to bruise, but she's disgusted with herself for losing control so dramatically.
She cringes, waiting for him to retaliate.
His fingers fall away from his skin, and he looks at her with narrowed eyes. "Let's get one thing clear. I will not be your punching bag."
"But you'll be everyone else's?" she exclaims, thinking of all the times she's seen him abused. "Do you even know how to fight?!"
"I'll fight you for custody," he tells her. "Don't think that I won't drag this whole mess into public, because I sure as hell will."
Before, she'd always thought of Kurt as a wuss for taking whatever the jocks dished out to him. He'd never broken down in tears or begged to be spared, but he hadn't fought back. She had thought it was because he was a wimp.
Now she thinks that Kurt ignored the abuse because it wasn't that important to him.
Not like their child is going to be.
"Why are you doing this?" she demands. "I don't understand why you want to be involved!" If Quinn had a choice, she certainly wouldn't be stepping forward to claim responsibility for a teenage pregnancy.
She's made him angry.
"Because it's my child," he growls. "There is nothing in this world that's going to stop me from being part of his life."
"You don't know it's a boy."
"The masculine pronoun is an acceptable substitute in English when the gender is unknown," he says, rolling his eyes. "Do you want to argue linguistics with me, or are you going to admit I'm right?"
Her mouth opens and closes, but no sound comes out. It's probably a good thing, since there's no way of telling what she would say, except that it would probably be cruel. She makes herself sit back down, not wanting to escalate things anymore.
Kurt is visibly struggling to remain calm. He takes a deep breath, before letting it out slowly. "I can understand why you might be overwrought, but I'm not happy about this, either. The best thing we can do it figure out the best plan to deal with our impending parenthood."
Logically, she knows he's right. Emotionally, she doesn't. She very much wants to stick her head in the sand and pretend her life is going to go back to normal.
"I need time to think," she tells him. "You can't expect me to make decisions right now."
"Time is not on our side here. I'll give you until Monday," he tells her. "After that, I'm stepping forward."
She shuts her eyes, but doesn't say anything. There's really nothing to say. Kurt isn't going to let her keep lying.
Part 3