Let the Rain Sing You a Lullaby (Glee, Kurt/Quinn, Part 9)
Let the Rain Sing You a Lullaby
by aishuu
Fandom: Glee
Rating: Teen
Pairing: Kurt/Quinn
Wordcount: 3,500 (this section)
Warnings: Topics covered include teen pregnancy, sexuality/gender identity, abortion, discussion of the rape... nothing graphic, though.
Spoilers: This fic is kind of merging canon details into this AU, but at this point it's firmly diverged from canon.
Notes: Sorry for my long delay - RL reared its head. Thanks to riah_chan, sophiap and veatariel for their input.
Summary: How the series might have gone if Kurt was Quinn's baby daddy. Some romances don't fit into any box.
Sunday sucks just as much as Saturday, especially since she doesn't dare go to her old church. She doesn't want the congregation to look down on her. She's spent most of her life around them, and she knows the little old ladies on the altar guild can be positively venomous with their disapproval. She still has memories about the time when she'd worn jeans to church as a thirteen year old.
It makes her feel off balance. Church has always rejuvenated her, but she doesn't have that. She does spend an hour praying in the backyard, but it's not the same.
She wonders if Burt Hummel might be right about God. She's never really let herself think on it before, instead just accepting that her faith was correct. The last couple of weeks has started to make her doubt everything she's held as true, but she knows that God is there. If God isn't, then there really is no point to life.
She ends her prayer by asking for strength and forgiveness of her sins. For a second, she feels a bit of peace, then she opens her eyes and sees the flowerbeds rather than the stained glass windows of her church.
Kurt is just as busy as he was on Saturday, and ignores her just as readily as he leaves to work on some kind of project in the garage. She wonders if he is angry at her for waking him up, or if he is just in a snit. Kurt's always been a bitch, and Quinn's smart enough to leave him alone for now. Never, ever tick off someone in the middle of a bitchfit.
Burt spends the afternoon in front of the television watching football, watching the Browns play the Patriots. For lack of anything better to do, she joins him. She's not a huge football fan, but she knows enough about the game to follow what's happening. Burt is very inventive every time a play goes wrong, and she can't help but be impressed at some of the imaginative scenarios he comes up with for what should be done to the Patriots' offense.
Kurt comes in around halftime, raising an eyebrow at the sight of Quinn sitting next to his father, discussing why the Browns' head coach deserves to be shot. He doesn't say anything, just heads into the kitchen and returns with a beer which he wordlessly tosses to Burt. His father smiles at him, and Kurt's face softens.
"I'll be in my room if you need me," he tells them, turning around and heading away.
Quinn doesn't understand, but thinks she might have missed something. Why the heck is Kurt so impossible to understand?
Mr. Schuester isn't in on Monday. Quinn's stomach turns as she arrives at his class only to find another substitute is there. Last week's substitute had been a fresh out of college redhead who hadn't spoken a lick of Spanish, but the middle-aged woman standing in the front of the classroom gives off an aura of no-nonsense that rings of "permanent sub."
Kurt takes his seat in toward the back of the room, and for a second Quinn considers sitting next to him, but he hasn't been particularly friendly lately. So instead she moves to sit in the second row, taking care to line up her seat with where the sub is standing. Hopefully the class will be so busy being disrespectful to Ms. Grayson (as the letters on the whiteboard pronounce in dark blue) that they will ignore tormenting Quinn herself.
Despite her appearances, the sub is just as bad as the one from last week, announcing that the class was to spend its time filling in worksheets. If they have questions, they were to figure it out for themselves. If they finish early, they can talk quietly among themselves. Then the woman plops herself down in Mr. Schue's chair, opening a dogeared Nora Roberts novel.
Quinn sighs as she stares at the sheet. It's a poorly photocopied page talking about colors. It's going to take all of five minutes to complete, and the rest of the period is going to be incredibly boring. Sure enough, she finishes before the late bell rings. She's all caught up on homework, so the only thing to do is play on her laptop. She pulls it out of her bag, deciding that checking on Perez Hilton's site might provide a distraction.
She's scanning through the latest on Lindsay Lohan's failed addiction treatment when something distracts her attention. She's not sure exactly what it is until she lifts her head and sees Finn Hudson gnawing on his lip, looking at the worksheet with frustration.
Finn looks adorable, she thinks. He's not the brightest crayon in the box, but he does try to pass his classes. She smiles slightly as he pokes his tongue out of the corner of his mouth, obviously lost deep in thought. It's a miracle she can't smell the scent of his braincells frying from overexertion.
Quinn hasn't dared speak to him since Babygate broke. She's not sure if she's angrier at him for dumping her and not even telling her to her face, beating up on Kurt, or deciding that dating Rachel Berry was a good rebound move. A part of her is still furious, but something about Finn has always drawn her in. She didn't date him just because he is the quarterback.
"Do you need help?" she asks, turning around in her chair so she's facing him.
Finn looks into her eyes - and for a second, Quinn forgets about everything that's happened. He's so handsome. He blinks, and his face hardens.
"I don't want to talk to you," he says. His gaze drop to her stomach accusingly.
If she is smart, she would drop this topic and go back to her laptop. She doesn't want to attract the attention of the rest of their peers. But she's never been smart where Finn's been concerned. "I'm just trying to help," she says softly. "I know you're angry at me, and you have a right to be. But the Finn Hudson I know isn't the kind of guy to carry a grudge, since he's a really nice person."
He tilts his head, considering what she's said. "I am having trouble with this," he admits. "Since Brittany's not here, I guess you can help me out this time."
She gives him her brightest smile. "Sure thing. What do you need help on?"
"The worksheet?" he replies pathetically.
She laughs, covering her mouth. Of course Finn hasn't been able to do any of it on his own. He's incapable of standing without someone to support him, after all. It's part of his clumsy charm.
Quinn knows Kurt is watching them. Without thinking about why, she leans just a bit closer to Finn as she begins to help him with the vocabulary.
Oh, she hates the slushies.
She used to laugh at the sight of someone - usually Rachel - getting hit in the face by a Big Quench, but now she realizes how very not funny it is. It's like being bitch-slapped by an iceberg. There is no other way to describe the combination of pain, humiliation and messiness that being slushied brings with it.
But it's now part of her daily routine, although not a predictable one. She's not sure if she's glad for that or not - knowing it's coming might give her time to brace and dread it, but the irregular attacks have made her paranoid. She's started to walk with her face turned toward the wall, knowing most of the slushinators prefer direct hits to the face.
It's only Wednesday, but she's been been slushied seven times. Each time, either Mercedes or Tina appears to help her clean up, which is nice of them. She doesn't dare wear her new clothes, because they'll just get ruined.
Strangely, Kurt isn't a target of the bullies anymore, with the exception of Finn and Puck who have tossed him in the dumpster every morning this week. But none of the other jocks come close to him, and Kurt hasn't been hit with a slushie yet.
She bitches about it while he's cleaning her off in the girl's bathroom, the first time he's been the one to help her out. It's the third time today she's been hit, and it's not even lunch. Needless to say, she's pissed, and doesn't stop to think that her anger is being misplaced when she wonders why he's not being treated to similar torment.
"It's because I'm a bad ass." He rolls his eyes at her, pausing the moist toilette over her cheekbone. "I stole the head cheerleader from the quarterback and got her pregnant. Go me," he drawls, before gently moving the toilette over her nose. "This hick town is so backwards it's surpassed the point of cliché and verges on The Twilight Zone."
His sangfroid makes her want to hurt him. She catches herself, remembering the way he'd looked at her after she slapped him that one time. Kurt had said he wouldn't take her abuse, and right now he is all she has.
"And you would hate to be cliché," she responds, dropping her gaze to his outfit. He's wearing something with a lot of buckles. She's relatively innocent when it comes to sex, but she knows enough to think he looks like he got dressed using an S&M store catalog.
"At least I look fabulous," he returns readily, before digging into his bag to pull out a comb. "I know we haven't talked about it yet, but are you planning on going to the doctor's soon?"
Quinn thinks about the bottle of pills Terri had given her. Mr. Schue still hasn't come back to school, and she's starting to think he might never do so again. She hasn't taken them since she doesn't trust the source, but they're a constant reminder there's so many things she needs to do to make sure her child isn't born a freak.
"I need to, don't I?"
"We can go to Planned Parenthood."
Quinn tenses. For her entire life, Planned Parenthood has been part of the work of the devil. "Kurt... they..."
He figures out where her thoughts are going. "You know it's a really good organization, right? They're good when it comes to prenatal planning. It's not just about abortion."
"But..."
"Neither of us has a clue where to start with this. They can provide us with good information, and their website says they can do the checkups. We can do a walk-in appointment, and if you don't like it there, we can at least get a list of the obstetricians in town."
When he says it like that, it seems reasonable enough. "Do you want to go tomorrow?" she asks.
"Why don't we go today?"
She wonders why he's in such a hurry to get this done, but decides she has nothing better to do this afternoon. "Sure."
It's a really good thing Kurt wants to go today, because she's already had too much time to think. Quinn is terrified, because this is a big step, and all she can think about is the weird birth defects that the pregnancy books warn about. She's still not happy about being pregnant, but being pregnant with a freak would be much, much worse. All the baby books she's been reading are telling her all the things she has to do right to avoid a birth defect, and there's far too much to remember.
The receptionist gives Kurt a dubious look as he follows Quinn into the waiting area. He's dressed in an outfit that brings out his androgynous qualities, and Quinn suspects people will think he's prettier than she is. Or at least cuter - she begrudgingly admits he does "adorable like a little boy whose cheeks I wanna pinch" better than anyone at McKinley.
Kurt pulls his cellphone out and starts texting as she fills in the paperwork. He's probably whining at Mercedes, but she doesn't ask. There's some easy stuff on the forms, like her name, but some of the questions she doesn't know the answer to. They're asking about the father's medical history and other personal information, and aside from knowing his mother is dead, she doesn't know that much about where Kurt came from.
"Can you?" she asks, holding out the clipboard to him.
"Can I what?"
"Fill out the stuff about your family?"
He has boyish handwriting, and it's nearly illegible. The flaw amuses her, since he's so polished in everything else. Kurt seems like the type to perfect calligraphy, not a sloppy half-cursive, half-print.
She needs stuff to be amused about.
He completes it quickly without speaking to her. She feels awkward, uncomfortably aware of how much a stranger he is to her. He hands the form back to her, and she scans over it quickly. Nothing pings as unusual - Kurt's medical history is fairly standard. He comes from good stock.
That's one less thing to worry about. She won't need to worry about Tay-Sachs and other genetic disorders passed along through certain ethnic and racial groups. There's so much that can go wrong that it's a miracle any child is born healthy.
Quinn gets up and gives the forms to the nurse. The nurse doesn't even bother to look at her, instead taking the papers back and shoving them into a file. "Have a seat, and the nurse will get you when she's ready."
She really hates how cool Kurt is about this whole mess. He's using his Iphone and surfing the web, watching stupid YouTube videos. He's not laughing, but he's not paying attention to her, either. Quinn stares at the copies of Parenting magazine scattered among the pamphlets warning about the dangerous of smoking and alcohol use during pregnancy, along with information for rape victims. She stares at them for a long moment, wondering if there's anything in it she needs to know.
Thankfully the nurse doesn't take long to get her. "Quinn?" the woman calls from the doorway, thankfully not using her last name. She doesn't recognize anyone in the waiting room, but the rumor mill works fast in Lima.
"Do you want me to come with you?" he asks, looking up from his phone.
She tilts her head as she considers his question. "Do you want to?"
"I'd like to know what's going on," he says, "but I would understand if you want your privacy."
She's too scared to be worried about modesty at this point. "Come on," she says. "I'd rather do this together."
He slips the cellphone into his pocket, before rising to his feet. He doesn't offer Quinn a hand up, likely acting on his feminist instincts and assuming Quinn can handle herself. He's not the kind of person to offer useless coddling.
The exam room is painted in peach and has all kinds of medical illustrations featuring the wonders of pregnancy. Quinn looks at the one that displays the differences between the three trimesters, and feels a bit ill. Turning her head, she sees that Kurt has blanched, and looks even worse than she feels. It's petty, but she can't help but be smug at throwing him off-balanced. He's been so in control so far that she can't help but feel satisfied.
The nurse comes and starts the exam, handing Quinn a light hospital gown and telling her to remove all her other clothes, before stepping out. Kurt doesn't look up from his cellphone as Quinn turns her back to change. She feels incredibly vulnerable standing in the room wearing nothing but the gown, which doesn't even fasten in the back.
The nurse comes back and has her step on the scale, before going to check her blood pressure. Quinn cooperates until the needle is produced. She really, really hates needles and shots...
And oh, God, this pregnancy thing is going to mean a lot of blood drawing and shots, isn't it?
She's not aware she's hyperventilating until the nurse is placing a hand on her shoulder, telling her to calm down. Kurt looks up with a stunned expression on his face, his eyes wide and confused as he stares at her.
She struggles to regain control, reminding herself that Quinn Fabray does not have panic attacks over such a stupid little thing.
The nurse is saying something to Kurt, and Quinn can't focus on the words. But she does feel the sudden warmth of his hand on hers, and then his face is six inches from hers. She doesn't jerk away, watching as his lips form her name.
"...listen. Quinn? Just look at my face and squeeze my hand," he says.
She squeezes his hand so tightly she wonders if she's going to break his fingers, but the nurse finishes in under two minutes. He pulls his hand back, shaking it to restore sensation.
"Thank you," she whispers, knowing the worst of it is over.
He nods, but doesn't say anything.
It's the most exciting thing that happens during most of the exam, since the nurse is asking Quinn all kinds of questions about her diet, and how she's feeling. The lady talks about nutrition and some ways to help alleviate the worst of the symptoms. Quinn's just starting to relax when the doctor comes in and introduces herself. Dr. Nader is a tall woman wearing a headscarf, and Quinn tries not to feel too uncomfortable with the obvious foreigner.
Dr. Nader shakes both of their hands, and speaks in unaccented English as she looks over Quinn's chart. "It looks like everything is going well, but we're going to keep a close eye on things," she says, before a smile curls her lips. "You're in luck today, since we have the portable ultrasound on site," she says. "It will save you a visit."
Quinn realizes the doctor is trying to do them a favor. She's not sure if she likes the idea of seeing a picture of their baby right now. She's still reeling from the knowledge that she is going to be having one that she's not ready to think of the child as an actual person. She opens her mouth to make an excuse, but then catches a glimpse of Kurt's face.
"That would be nice," she says instead of the denial she really wants to make.
The nurse comes back in a couple of minutes later wheeling the ultrasound, before helping arrange Quinn on the examination table as Dr. Nader works on setting up the machine. The jelly is cold against the skin of her stomach before the doctor rubs the transducer-thing over her stomach. It takes a couple of seconds for a gray image to appear on the screen.
Quinn blinks, trying to figure out what she's seeing. She can kind of make out the head, but that's only if she squints and tilts her head. It looks like a blob to her.
"Wow," Kurt murmurs beside her. "That's... that's our baby."
The sheer awe in his voice stirs her, and she feels her cynicism about the poor picture melt. This is the first picture of their baby. She and Kurt have made another human being. It definitely is worth a "wow."
"What is it?" Quinn asks, before Kurt has a chance to tell her not to. "Is it a boy or girl?"
"It's too soon to tell," Dr. Nader replies. "We won't be able to tell for at least another month, and that's assuming the baby is positioned in a way where we can see its genital area."
"Is it healthy?" Kurt asks instead.
"It's textbook perfect," Dr. Nader tells them warmly. She points to the screen with her free hand. "See? You can see where its heart is beating."
Kurt's attention is fastened to the screen, watching in fascination. His eyes look moist, like he's about to cry. "It's amazing."
"Every time I see it, I'm always impressed," Dr. Nader agrees. "I'll give you a recording and a couple of print outs to take home."
"Thank you," Kurt murmurs. They watch for another minute, before Dr. Nader shuts off the machine.
Quinn and Kurt just stare at each other. Quinn can't think of anything to say, and Kurt is uncharacteristically speechless. What do you say when you've just experienced one of the most profound moments of your young life?
Thankfully Dr. Nader unknowingly breaks up the tension. "Okay, I'm going to ask your boyfriend to step out," Dr. Nader says. "I need to do a pelvic exam."
Kurt clears the room so quickly that Quinn can't help but laugh.
Part 10.
by aishuu
Fandom: Glee
Rating: Teen
Pairing: Kurt/Quinn
Wordcount: 3,500 (this section)
Warnings: Topics covered include teen pregnancy, sexuality/gender identity, abortion, discussion of the rape... nothing graphic, though.
Spoilers: This fic is kind of merging canon details into this AU, but at this point it's firmly diverged from canon.
Notes: Sorry for my long delay - RL reared its head. Thanks to riah_chan, sophiap and veatariel for their input.
Summary: How the series might have gone if Kurt was Quinn's baby daddy. Some romances don't fit into any box.
Sunday sucks just as much as Saturday, especially since she doesn't dare go to her old church. She doesn't want the congregation to look down on her. She's spent most of her life around them, and she knows the little old ladies on the altar guild can be positively venomous with their disapproval. She still has memories about the time when she'd worn jeans to church as a thirteen year old.
It makes her feel off balance. Church has always rejuvenated her, but she doesn't have that. She does spend an hour praying in the backyard, but it's not the same.
She wonders if Burt Hummel might be right about God. She's never really let herself think on it before, instead just accepting that her faith was correct. The last couple of weeks has started to make her doubt everything she's held as true, but she knows that God is there. If God isn't, then there really is no point to life.
She ends her prayer by asking for strength and forgiveness of her sins. For a second, she feels a bit of peace, then she opens her eyes and sees the flowerbeds rather than the stained glass windows of her church.
Kurt is just as busy as he was on Saturday, and ignores her just as readily as he leaves to work on some kind of project in the garage. She wonders if he is angry at her for waking him up, or if he is just in a snit. Kurt's always been a bitch, and Quinn's smart enough to leave him alone for now. Never, ever tick off someone in the middle of a bitchfit.
Burt spends the afternoon in front of the television watching football, watching the Browns play the Patriots. For lack of anything better to do, she joins him. She's not a huge football fan, but she knows enough about the game to follow what's happening. Burt is very inventive every time a play goes wrong, and she can't help but be impressed at some of the imaginative scenarios he comes up with for what should be done to the Patriots' offense.
Kurt comes in around halftime, raising an eyebrow at the sight of Quinn sitting next to his father, discussing why the Browns' head coach deserves to be shot. He doesn't say anything, just heads into the kitchen and returns with a beer which he wordlessly tosses to Burt. His father smiles at him, and Kurt's face softens.
"I'll be in my room if you need me," he tells them, turning around and heading away.
Quinn doesn't understand, but thinks she might have missed something. Why the heck is Kurt so impossible to understand?
Mr. Schuester isn't in on Monday. Quinn's stomach turns as she arrives at his class only to find another substitute is there. Last week's substitute had been a fresh out of college redhead who hadn't spoken a lick of Spanish, but the middle-aged woman standing in the front of the classroom gives off an aura of no-nonsense that rings of "permanent sub."
Kurt takes his seat in toward the back of the room, and for a second Quinn considers sitting next to him, but he hasn't been particularly friendly lately. So instead she moves to sit in the second row, taking care to line up her seat with where the sub is standing. Hopefully the class will be so busy being disrespectful to Ms. Grayson (as the letters on the whiteboard pronounce in dark blue) that they will ignore tormenting Quinn herself.
Despite her appearances, the sub is just as bad as the one from last week, announcing that the class was to spend its time filling in worksheets. If they have questions, they were to figure it out for themselves. If they finish early, they can talk quietly among themselves. Then the woman plops herself down in Mr. Schue's chair, opening a dogeared Nora Roberts novel.
Quinn sighs as she stares at the sheet. It's a poorly photocopied page talking about colors. It's going to take all of five minutes to complete, and the rest of the period is going to be incredibly boring. Sure enough, she finishes before the late bell rings. She's all caught up on homework, so the only thing to do is play on her laptop. She pulls it out of her bag, deciding that checking on Perez Hilton's site might provide a distraction.
She's scanning through the latest on Lindsay Lohan's failed addiction treatment when something distracts her attention. She's not sure exactly what it is until she lifts her head and sees Finn Hudson gnawing on his lip, looking at the worksheet with frustration.
Finn looks adorable, she thinks. He's not the brightest crayon in the box, but he does try to pass his classes. She smiles slightly as he pokes his tongue out of the corner of his mouth, obviously lost deep in thought. It's a miracle she can't smell the scent of his braincells frying from overexertion.
Quinn hasn't dared speak to him since Babygate broke. She's not sure if she's angrier at him for dumping her and not even telling her to her face, beating up on Kurt, or deciding that dating Rachel Berry was a good rebound move. A part of her is still furious, but something about Finn has always drawn her in. She didn't date him just because he is the quarterback.
"Do you need help?" she asks, turning around in her chair so she's facing him.
Finn looks into her eyes - and for a second, Quinn forgets about everything that's happened. He's so handsome. He blinks, and his face hardens.
"I don't want to talk to you," he says. His gaze drop to her stomach accusingly.
If she is smart, she would drop this topic and go back to her laptop. She doesn't want to attract the attention of the rest of their peers. But she's never been smart where Finn's been concerned. "I'm just trying to help," she says softly. "I know you're angry at me, and you have a right to be. But the Finn Hudson I know isn't the kind of guy to carry a grudge, since he's a really nice person."
He tilts his head, considering what she's said. "I am having trouble with this," he admits. "Since Brittany's not here, I guess you can help me out this time."
She gives him her brightest smile. "Sure thing. What do you need help on?"
"The worksheet?" he replies pathetically.
She laughs, covering her mouth. Of course Finn hasn't been able to do any of it on his own. He's incapable of standing without someone to support him, after all. It's part of his clumsy charm.
Quinn knows Kurt is watching them. Without thinking about why, she leans just a bit closer to Finn as she begins to help him with the vocabulary.
Oh, she hates the slushies.
She used to laugh at the sight of someone - usually Rachel - getting hit in the face by a Big Quench, but now she realizes how very not funny it is. It's like being bitch-slapped by an iceberg. There is no other way to describe the combination of pain, humiliation and messiness that being slushied brings with it.
But it's now part of her daily routine, although not a predictable one. She's not sure if she's glad for that or not - knowing it's coming might give her time to brace and dread it, but the irregular attacks have made her paranoid. She's started to walk with her face turned toward the wall, knowing most of the slushinators prefer direct hits to the face.
It's only Wednesday, but she's been been slushied seven times. Each time, either Mercedes or Tina appears to help her clean up, which is nice of them. She doesn't dare wear her new clothes, because they'll just get ruined.
Strangely, Kurt isn't a target of the bullies anymore, with the exception of Finn and Puck who have tossed him in the dumpster every morning this week. But none of the other jocks come close to him, and Kurt hasn't been hit with a slushie yet.
She bitches about it while he's cleaning her off in the girl's bathroom, the first time he's been the one to help her out. It's the third time today she's been hit, and it's not even lunch. Needless to say, she's pissed, and doesn't stop to think that her anger is being misplaced when she wonders why he's not being treated to similar torment.
"It's because I'm a bad ass." He rolls his eyes at her, pausing the moist toilette over her cheekbone. "I stole the head cheerleader from the quarterback and got her pregnant. Go me," he drawls, before gently moving the toilette over her nose. "This hick town is so backwards it's surpassed the point of cliché and verges on The Twilight Zone."
His sangfroid makes her want to hurt him. She catches herself, remembering the way he'd looked at her after she slapped him that one time. Kurt had said he wouldn't take her abuse, and right now he is all she has.
"And you would hate to be cliché," she responds, dropping her gaze to his outfit. He's wearing something with a lot of buckles. She's relatively innocent when it comes to sex, but she knows enough to think he looks like he got dressed using an S&M store catalog.
"At least I look fabulous," he returns readily, before digging into his bag to pull out a comb. "I know we haven't talked about it yet, but are you planning on going to the doctor's soon?"
Quinn thinks about the bottle of pills Terri had given her. Mr. Schue still hasn't come back to school, and she's starting to think he might never do so again. She hasn't taken them since she doesn't trust the source, but they're a constant reminder there's so many things she needs to do to make sure her child isn't born a freak.
"I need to, don't I?"
"We can go to Planned Parenthood."
Quinn tenses. For her entire life, Planned Parenthood has been part of the work of the devil. "Kurt... they..."
He figures out where her thoughts are going. "You know it's a really good organization, right? They're good when it comes to prenatal planning. It's not just about abortion."
"But..."
"Neither of us has a clue where to start with this. They can provide us with good information, and their website says they can do the checkups. We can do a walk-in appointment, and if you don't like it there, we can at least get a list of the obstetricians in town."
When he says it like that, it seems reasonable enough. "Do you want to go tomorrow?" she asks.
"Why don't we go today?"
She wonders why he's in such a hurry to get this done, but decides she has nothing better to do this afternoon. "Sure."
It's a really good thing Kurt wants to go today, because she's already had too much time to think. Quinn is terrified, because this is a big step, and all she can think about is the weird birth defects that the pregnancy books warn about. She's still not happy about being pregnant, but being pregnant with a freak would be much, much worse. All the baby books she's been reading are telling her all the things she has to do right to avoid a birth defect, and there's far too much to remember.
The receptionist gives Kurt a dubious look as he follows Quinn into the waiting area. He's dressed in an outfit that brings out his androgynous qualities, and Quinn suspects people will think he's prettier than she is. Or at least cuter - she begrudgingly admits he does "adorable like a little boy whose cheeks I wanna pinch" better than anyone at McKinley.
Kurt pulls his cellphone out and starts texting as she fills in the paperwork. He's probably whining at Mercedes, but she doesn't ask. There's some easy stuff on the forms, like her name, but some of the questions she doesn't know the answer to. They're asking about the father's medical history and other personal information, and aside from knowing his mother is dead, she doesn't know that much about where Kurt came from.
"Can you?" she asks, holding out the clipboard to him.
"Can I what?"
"Fill out the stuff about your family?"
He has boyish handwriting, and it's nearly illegible. The flaw amuses her, since he's so polished in everything else. Kurt seems like the type to perfect calligraphy, not a sloppy half-cursive, half-print.
She needs stuff to be amused about.
He completes it quickly without speaking to her. She feels awkward, uncomfortably aware of how much a stranger he is to her. He hands the form back to her, and she scans over it quickly. Nothing pings as unusual - Kurt's medical history is fairly standard. He comes from good stock.
That's one less thing to worry about. She won't need to worry about Tay-Sachs and other genetic disorders passed along through certain ethnic and racial groups. There's so much that can go wrong that it's a miracle any child is born healthy.
Quinn gets up and gives the forms to the nurse. The nurse doesn't even bother to look at her, instead taking the papers back and shoving them into a file. "Have a seat, and the nurse will get you when she's ready."
She really hates how cool Kurt is about this whole mess. He's using his Iphone and surfing the web, watching stupid YouTube videos. He's not laughing, but he's not paying attention to her, either. Quinn stares at the copies of Parenting magazine scattered among the pamphlets warning about the dangerous of smoking and alcohol use during pregnancy, along with information for rape victims. She stares at them for a long moment, wondering if there's anything in it she needs to know.
Thankfully the nurse doesn't take long to get her. "Quinn?" the woman calls from the doorway, thankfully not using her last name. She doesn't recognize anyone in the waiting room, but the rumor mill works fast in Lima.
"Do you want me to come with you?" he asks, looking up from his phone.
She tilts her head as she considers his question. "Do you want to?"
"I'd like to know what's going on," he says, "but I would understand if you want your privacy."
She's too scared to be worried about modesty at this point. "Come on," she says. "I'd rather do this together."
He slips the cellphone into his pocket, before rising to his feet. He doesn't offer Quinn a hand up, likely acting on his feminist instincts and assuming Quinn can handle herself. He's not the kind of person to offer useless coddling.
The exam room is painted in peach and has all kinds of medical illustrations featuring the wonders of pregnancy. Quinn looks at the one that displays the differences between the three trimesters, and feels a bit ill. Turning her head, she sees that Kurt has blanched, and looks even worse than she feels. It's petty, but she can't help but be smug at throwing him off-balanced. He's been so in control so far that she can't help but feel satisfied.
The nurse comes and starts the exam, handing Quinn a light hospital gown and telling her to remove all her other clothes, before stepping out. Kurt doesn't look up from his cellphone as Quinn turns her back to change. She feels incredibly vulnerable standing in the room wearing nothing but the gown, which doesn't even fasten in the back.
The nurse comes back and has her step on the scale, before going to check her blood pressure. Quinn cooperates until the needle is produced. She really, really hates needles and shots...
And oh, God, this pregnancy thing is going to mean a lot of blood drawing and shots, isn't it?
She's not aware she's hyperventilating until the nurse is placing a hand on her shoulder, telling her to calm down. Kurt looks up with a stunned expression on his face, his eyes wide and confused as he stares at her.
She struggles to regain control, reminding herself that Quinn Fabray does not have panic attacks over such a stupid little thing.
The nurse is saying something to Kurt, and Quinn can't focus on the words. But she does feel the sudden warmth of his hand on hers, and then his face is six inches from hers. She doesn't jerk away, watching as his lips form her name.
"...listen. Quinn? Just look at my face and squeeze my hand," he says.
She squeezes his hand so tightly she wonders if she's going to break his fingers, but the nurse finishes in under two minutes. He pulls his hand back, shaking it to restore sensation.
"Thank you," she whispers, knowing the worst of it is over.
He nods, but doesn't say anything.
It's the most exciting thing that happens during most of the exam, since the nurse is asking Quinn all kinds of questions about her diet, and how she's feeling. The lady talks about nutrition and some ways to help alleviate the worst of the symptoms. Quinn's just starting to relax when the doctor comes in and introduces herself. Dr. Nader is a tall woman wearing a headscarf, and Quinn tries not to feel too uncomfortable with the obvious foreigner.
Dr. Nader shakes both of their hands, and speaks in unaccented English as she looks over Quinn's chart. "It looks like everything is going well, but we're going to keep a close eye on things," she says, before a smile curls her lips. "You're in luck today, since we have the portable ultrasound on site," she says. "It will save you a visit."
Quinn realizes the doctor is trying to do them a favor. She's not sure if she likes the idea of seeing a picture of their baby right now. She's still reeling from the knowledge that she is going to be having one that she's not ready to think of the child as an actual person. She opens her mouth to make an excuse, but then catches a glimpse of Kurt's face.
"That would be nice," she says instead of the denial she really wants to make.
The nurse comes back in a couple of minutes later wheeling the ultrasound, before helping arrange Quinn on the examination table as Dr. Nader works on setting up the machine. The jelly is cold against the skin of her stomach before the doctor rubs the transducer-thing over her stomach. It takes a couple of seconds for a gray image to appear on the screen.
Quinn blinks, trying to figure out what she's seeing. She can kind of make out the head, but that's only if she squints and tilts her head. It looks like a blob to her.
"Wow," Kurt murmurs beside her. "That's... that's our baby."
The sheer awe in his voice stirs her, and she feels her cynicism about the poor picture melt. This is the first picture of their baby. She and Kurt have made another human being. It definitely is worth a "wow."
"What is it?" Quinn asks, before Kurt has a chance to tell her not to. "Is it a boy or girl?"
"It's too soon to tell," Dr. Nader replies. "We won't be able to tell for at least another month, and that's assuming the baby is positioned in a way where we can see its genital area."
"Is it healthy?" Kurt asks instead.
"It's textbook perfect," Dr. Nader tells them warmly. She points to the screen with her free hand. "See? You can see where its heart is beating."
Kurt's attention is fastened to the screen, watching in fascination. His eyes look moist, like he's about to cry. "It's amazing."
"Every time I see it, I'm always impressed," Dr. Nader agrees. "I'll give you a recording and a couple of print outs to take home."
"Thank you," Kurt murmurs. They watch for another minute, before Dr. Nader shuts off the machine.
Quinn and Kurt just stare at each other. Quinn can't think of anything to say, and Kurt is uncharacteristically speechless. What do you say when you've just experienced one of the most profound moments of your young life?
Thankfully Dr. Nader unknowingly breaks up the tension. "Okay, I'm going to ask your boyfriend to step out," Dr. Nader says. "I need to do a pelvic exam."
Kurt clears the room so quickly that Quinn can't help but laugh.
Part 10.