The group moved to the Andersons' living room.  Where Hans' influence was most visible outside in the elaborately groomed landscaping, this was Anna's domain.  And that meant ceiling-to-floor bookcases double-stacked with books and ancient Greek artifacts, with a huge framed reprint of a first-century B.C. painting of Zeus hurling a lightning bolt centered over the fireplace, and the companion piece of a giant about to be struck displayed over the couch.  Hans' Barcalounger was placed to the left of the fireplace.  He was enthroned on it drinking a glass of scotch, and looking as if he'd like to take a lightning bolt to someone.  Kurt nervously sat down next to Blaine on the couch.  The others found seats around a low, carved marble table where Anna fluttered around setting out appetizers and a pitcher of lemonade.  

Kurt glanced to his left.  Blaine was looking pointedly away from him, his arms crossed over his chest and wearing a closed-off expression.  Kurt cleared his throat and nudged his boyfriend, but Blaine was silent and his lips were pressed tight together.  Kurt had seen that look enough to know he was in for a rare, and particularly ill-timed, tantrum from his boyfriend.  He sighed and started the meeting on his own.

“Okay, well, Blaine and I asked you here to tell you … Blaine is pregnant, and yes, I'm the father.  I took a paternity test and it proved it.”

“How?  How did this happen?” Burt asked, sitting on the Andersons tufted loveseat and looking utterly bewildered.  Dazed, he accepted a heaping platter of food Anna handed him but transferred it to the table without looking at it.  “Is this one of those … those transsexual deals?  Is … is Blaine a man trapped in a woman's body or something?”

Hans barked, “My son is male!”   His face was reddened and his fingers were clenched around his drink tightly.  “Or he was, until your son got him cursed!”

“That wasn't my fault!” Kurt protested.  “I certainly didn't put those icons out where innocent kids could touch them and get cursed!!  Anna did that!”

Anna looked hurt. “I didn't know they had any special power, Kurt … now that I do, I put a velvet rope around them at the museum to prevent any more … accidents.”  She set out a tray of glasses and started pouring lemonade.

“Cursed?  … what are all of you talking about?  What's happening?” Burt pleaded. Carol put a hand on his arm soothingly.  

Kurt tried to explain.  “Blaine is a man, but …”.  How to explain this without sounding insane?  “... but he has a ‘pseudo-uterus' and there is a normal, healthy baby girl in it, who is my daughter and Blaine's.”  

From the corner of his eye, he saw an interested Finn start to form a question and he cut it off before he could finish.  “Let's leave it at that, okay?  The … the technical details of how it happened aren't important,” Kurt said, slapping Blaine's leg lightly again for help.  Blaine's eyebrows were so low over his eyes they were a dark, thick horizontal line.  Kurt knew he'd get no help until they resumed their usual triangularity, so he turned to Anna for more support.

Anna rummaged through a cluttered desk in the corner and pulled out the folder with all of Blaine's sonograms and test results in it.  “There's all the medical records, Burt.  I know it's a lot to take in, but … congratulations!  We're going to be grandparents!”  She handed Burt the folder, and he stared at it blankly until Carol took it and started reviewing it.  

“Grandparents,” Burt said weakly.

“And in-laws,” Finn offered, through a mouthful of lumpia from the platter he'd taken from the table and placed on his own lap.  “Since Kurt proposed just now.  What's your answer, bro?”

Hans exploded. “Proposed?  My son is seventeen!” he shouted. “He's too young to get married!”

“Actually, he can get married at 17 in Indiana if … if both parents consent,” Kurt mumbled.

“Well, I don't consent!  I want what's best for him, which is to go to college in a year.  And I don't want him tied down by marriage at seventeen!”

“I haven't said yes! And I'm not sure I should!” Blaine cut in, his eyes red and teary.  At Kurt's astonished and offended look, Blaine continued, his voice trembling, “You lied to me about NYADA, Kurt!   Is that how you want to start a marriage? With lies?”

Kurt saw red.  “I'm trying to do the right thing and keep you from feeling bad that I have to give up the biggest chance of my life -- to stand by you!   How is that a bad thing?”

“Because you made a decision that affects all three of us, not just you, without consulting me at all!  And who asked you to give up ‘the biggest chance of your life', anyway?”  Blaine stood up angrily.  “You know what? I don't want to hear about how you sacrificed so much for me for the next sixty years!  Save the martyr routine and go to fucking college, since it's obvious you want to!”  He stormed out of the room.  

Kurt threw a glance over his shoulder at his family, then chased Blaine up the stairs, reaching the open door to Blaine's room as Blaine flung himself face down on the bed.  Kurt stood in the doorway, shaking with irritation.  “So you're saying I should go away and leave all this on you?  Really?” Kurt challenged.

Blaine didn't bother to roll his face out of the pillow.  “Yes.  We need to think long-term,” Blaine said dully.  “If you turn down Carmen Tibideaux, you won't get another shot at NYADA, you know that.  NYADA is the best school in the country for musical theatre. You can't pass up a chance to go there.  I can manage on my own until I can come to New York with the baby.”

Kurt sighed and came into the room, climbing up on the bed and lying down next to Blaine.  “Now who's being a martyr?  This is happening to both of us, not just you, Blaine, and I want to help, I want to be here, I didn't mean it when I said that about giving up the biggest chance of my life.  If I go, then I'm giving up the biggest chance of my life.”  He curled around Blaine and stroked his back.  “I'm doing this for me too, honey.  Really.”

Blaine still wouldn't look up.  “I'm too tired to talk and I think you should go downstairs and leave me alone.  I have a bad headache.”

“Don't do that.  Don't shut me out,”  Kurt begged.  

Blaine rolled over and looked at him sadly.  “Isn't that what you did to me?  Shut me out?  Decide what was best for me and the baby, without even asking me what I thought about it?”  

Kurt reached over and squeezed Blaine's hand.  “I felt bad that I didn't believe about the baby right away and  … I thought I was making up for it by being a big hero, I guess,” he admitted.  

“I don't need saving or protecting, Kurt.”

“What about our baby, though?”  Kurt asked, his throat constricting.

Blaine sighed, “She needs you.  But  I don't think that has to mean giving up on your dreams and future.  Look ... I'm not … I'm not telling you what to do … but can we make the decision together? Just us two, talking?”

“Okay,” Kurt said finally.  “We'll talk about it.”

“And you'll send in your acceptance letter in the meantime?” Blaine prompted.  “That way you'll have that choice.  Kurt, don't forget …” he choked.  “We don't know what's going to happen.  Not really.  We don't know if I can really carry this baby through the summer, even.  I don't want you cutting off options, okay?”

Kurt reached up and wiped the tears that were slipping from Blaine's eyes now.  “If that's what you want me to do, I'll send it in, but I don't know if I can go through with leaving you at a time like this.”  

“Okay,” Blaine said. “We don't have to decide all at once about what to do.”  He winced and rubbed his head.

“Head still hurts?” Kurt asked.  At Blaine's weary nod, he suggested, “Let's just rest a minute before we go back down to World War III down there.”

They were quiet for a few moments, Kurt holding Blaine and rubbing his neck to help relieve his tension, and he almost dozed off himself, when Blaine cleared his throat and tugged on his sleeve.

“Kurt … about the question you asked me before, when we were outside?”  Blaine toyed with Kurt's shirt button, shy suddenly.  “You know I'm madly in love with you, and I see you whenever I think of my future, right?”

Kurt nodded, searching Blaine's eyes.  “So why did you say no?”

“I didn't say no, Kurt.  I want to marry you someday.  But … ”

“What is it?”

Blaine grimaced.  “But let's face it.  You proposed just now because of the baby, and  - .”

Kurt looked sternly at Blaine.  “Hold up now.  I asked you because I want to spend my life with you.  Sure, if we're being totally honest, I wouldn't have asked now if you weren't pregnant. We're 18 and 17 and if this hadn't happened, I wouldn't be thinking about marriage right now.  But I wouldn't ask you at all if I didn't love you and want us to be together always.”

“You mean that?  Or are you lying again?” Blaine teased, and Kurt stopped his teasing mouth with a deep, searching kiss.  

“Will you marry me,  Blaine Anderson?” he whispered.

“Yes,” Blaine said happily, resting his head on Kurt's shoulder. “When I'm 18 and Dad can't stop me,” he yawned sleepily.   Kurt cuddled him close, glad that at least one thing about this was settled.

*~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *~ * ~

“Here.  I … I made these for you.  The very first pair of paternity pants.”  Kurt brandished a pair of jeans and demonstrated the elastic waist and belly panel.  “You can wear these with an untucked dress shirt … I altered this one for you,” he explained.  

Blaine beamed.  “You're so good to me,” he smiled, taking the pants and holding them up to his waist.  

“Try them on,” Kurt urged softly, hooking his fingers through Blaine's belt loops and pulling him close for a kiss.

“Okay,” Blaine breathed, pulling off his suspenders and kicking off his shoes. “There's something I want to do first, though,” he gasped between frantic kisses.  He pulled Kurt's shirt off over his head and suddenly it was a desperate race to lose all their clothes, and then Kurt found himself seated at the edge of his bed getting an enthusiastic blow job.

The Hummel house was empty this afternoon, thankfully, and Kurt was able to moan and grunt unworried about listening ears while his boyfriend expertly sucked him off.  Even though nobody was home, and wouldn't be for several hours, it felt extra naughty with the light streaming in the window across the bed and the bedroom door wide open.  He knew that a lot of people don't particularly like giving head, or so he'd heard, and acted like it was a huge favor when they did it.  But Blaine seemed to enjoy giving as much as he did receiving, or gave a pretty good impression of it.  He was kneeling on a pillow at the edge of the bed where Kurt was sitting with spread legs, going to town on Kurt's dick, taking all of it without hesitation down his throat while fondling his balls with a gentle, firm hand.  It was so hot that Kurt couldn't keep quiet, couldn't keep still, and he gripped Blaine's gelled head with both hands to urge him on, not that he needed much encouragement.   The view was perfect like this, with Blaine's lightly muscled back and shoulders gleaming with a light film of sweat, and his round, perky little ass just out of reach, as he devoured Kurt's cock, like he was starving for it.

Kurt hooked his knees over Blaine's shoulders to draw him even closer, but that was a mistake, he realized quickly with embarrassment.  He'd forgotten his … his gut.  Blaine didn't seem to mind, but .. he put a hand up to hold Kurt's stomach back slightly so he could get full access to Kurt's length … and Kurt felt a surge of utter humiliation.  The feeling of Blaine's tongue tracing around the base of his cock nearly drove the embarrassment away, but then … Blaine jerked away suddenly and looked, puzzled, at Kurt's belly, his hand still pressed against it.

“Wh- what's wrong,” Kurt panted.  “Do you - do you need to rest a little?  Are you tired?”

Blaine sat back on his haunches, still looking at Kurt's midsection with a little frown, while pressing in with his hand.  Kurt gulped with shame … he was so soft all over from his weight gain and water retention lately … meanwhile Blaine was still somewhat overly thin from his morning sickness, the only evidence of his pregnancy a slight swelling in his lower abdomen with the skin pulled tightly over it.  Blaine put his other hand on his own belly and shut his eyes.

“Blaine, what is it, honey --”

“Ssssh,” Blaine said. “There!  There it is again.  Do you feel that - that flutter?  In your - - in your belly?”

Kurt's face burned bright red.  “What the fuck is the matter with you?” he said, tears springing to his eyes.  “I get it!  I'm fat!”  His hard-on was completely ‘off' at this point, and he shoved Blaine's hand away, hurt and angry.

“Kurt, please, I'm not trying to hurt your feelings,” Blaine pleaded. “You're too hard on yourself, you're not … you haven't … well, okay, you've put on a couple pounds, but I don't care about that.  What I'm asking is about that … that feeling ---  It almost feels like … when the baby moves inside me - -”

“Yeah, because I'm so fucking fat I must be pregnant, that's what you're saying?  Oh, and by the way, it's just gas from … from that Mexican food you insisted on us having for lunch. Mexican food makes me gassy, okay? Thanks for making me self-conscious about it.”  He got up and stormed to the bathroom and slammed the door in Blaine's penitent face.

“Kurt, I'm sorry…” Blaine called through the door.  “It's just that the legends about the gay men who got pregnant from the icons, said both men got pregnant.  I've been wondering why I was the only one it happened to this time, and … when I felt that … it made me think that … well, that maybe it happened to you too.  I know it was stupid of me, and I'm sorry. I guess my imagination is getting the better of me.   If you're sure you're not … like me, then that's good enough for me.  I'm so sorry I killed the mood.  Can I make it up to you?”

“I'd rather not,” Kurt said sullenly, leaning against the bathroom door. “I'm not exactly in the mood anymore.”

There was a long moment of silence, before Blaine meekly said, “Are you going to be in there a while with  … your gas thing, Kurt?  Because I never got off either … would it be totally inappropriate if I took care of that in here while you're - er -”

“Go home, Blaine,” Kurt shouted.  When there was no answer, he worried that he'd been way too harsh, and quickly opened the door and stuck his head out.  Blaine was sitting dejectedly on the bed, his dick completely flaccid now as well.  He looked at Kurt sadly and Kurt relented.  

“Okay, don't give me that look,” Kurt said.  “I really don't think I can get it up again, but … let's lie down together for a while and cuddle.  I know you didn't mean to hurt my feelings.”  Blaine happily made kicky-feet, and scooted back on the bed, opening his arms to Kurt, who climbed up beside him and laid his head on Blaine's shoulder.  They lay there together naked in the afternoon sunshine, and Kurt felt himself relaxing and pressed a kiss to Blaine's neck.  He reached a hand out and stroked Blaine's firm, rounded little belly softly, and felt their baby girl kicking against his hand.  Blaine must be high, he thought.  That doesn't feel anything like that thing I've been getting after I eat lately.  And at night when I lie down.  Not at all.

“Lower,” Blaine murmured helpfully. Kurt smothered a laugh, and closed his hand around Blaine's renewed erection.  He enjoyed the sight of Blaine writhing under his attentions, but his own arousal was far, far gone as he tried to convince himself that … that there was no reason to be worried about that weird little fluttering in his own belly.