"Shhh, it's ok," Kurt whispered softly in Carson's ear as he stroked his hair and rocked him gently. Carson's heaving sobs eventually tapered off, becoming soft whines and then occasional gasps. Kurt held him through it all, breathing a sigh of relief when he felt his twin's weight gradually sagging in his arms, indicating that Carson was falling asleep.

He wondered what was going on downstairs; whether his mother was still sitting, shell shocked, at the empty table, and what their relatives were doing. Or saying. It hit him suddenly that they now all knew about him and Carson. Up until an hour ago, he wasn't sure that most of them even knew he was gay. They must have been absorbing the shock of their lives, and strangely, he had absolutely no idea how to feel about that. He didn't know whether he should be supremely humiliated, or whether he should just not give a fuck what anyone thought, because things were what they were.

And then there had been his dad's announcement, which Kurt had almost missed entirely in the middle of all the other bombs that had been going off at that table. What did he mean he was moving out? Moving where? Were their parents getting divorced or what? And if so, how was Kurt supposed to feel about that? It wasn't even unexpected, and it was certainly better for Carson if Neal weren't around, but still.

Kurt sighed deeply, shifting on the bed and carefully distributing Carson's weight against him to a more comfortable position. He settled on his side, pulling Carson's heavy, worn out body close to him so that they were pressed tightly together, Kurt's chest to Carson's back. He rested his head in the crook of Carson's neck and inhaled his twin's scent, a mixture of cigarette smoke and salty skin, as Carson drew a shuddering breath in his sleep. Kurt still wanted to strangle him for being so stupid as to knock a girl up, but at the same time he knew full well that he would stand by him no matter what life threw at them. Because that's what you did when you really loved someone, and though it had taken Kurt until it was already too late to realize it, that's exactly how he felt about Carson.

"I'm sorry I never said it back," he whispered into Carson's skin, holding him closer and shutting his eyes as he waited and hoped for sleep to overtake him. "I love you."

Despite his wishes, Kurt lay awake for hours, turning everything over and over again in his mind as he held on to Carson, who slept on, oblivious to the entire world. The poor guy must have really been exhausted, because he never stirred in his sleep even once the entire time that Kurt was awake. He did, however, have occasional instances of sharp breaths, as if, even in sleep, he was struggling not to cry. Kurt's heart ached for him. He had the uneasy feeling that a series of even bigger changes in their lives had been set in motion now, and there was nothing either of them could do other than hang on for the ride.

He must have eventually fallen asleep, obviously, because the next thing he knew, it was considerably lighter in the room than it had been before, due to the early morning sunlight streaming through the window. As Kurt sleepily turned his head to glance at Carson's bedside table, the glowing numbers on his digital clock confirmed that it was, indeed, the next morning. They had apparently slept through the entire night on Carson's bed, wearing their street clothes. Which explained why every part of Kurt's body felt sore and stiff.

"Ungh," he groaned as he shifted on the bed. His arms were almost numb from holding Carson so tightly all night, and his waist was not at all happy with him for sleeping with his belt on. He carefully untangled himself from Carson and sat up, wincing in pain as his joints and muscles protested the sudden demand to stretch. Sometimes he forgot how uncomfortable Carson's mattress was in comparison to his own, and this was a stark reminder. How the hell did Carson manage to stand sleeping on that thing night after night?

Carson himself had automatically curled himself into a ball as soon as Kurt stopped holding him. He was still fast asleep, but his face had darkened into a frustrated little frown, as though he could sense that Kurt wasn't touching him anymore and he was less than happy about it. Kurt sighed and ran his fingers softly down his twin's back, rubbing small circles into it as he watched Carson's frown slowly disappear.

"Oh, Carsey," he whispered as he rubbed. "What am I going to do with you?"

A sudden growling sound deep in his stomach reminded him that he hadn't eaten since the previous afternoon. And, for that matter, Carson was probably going to be starving when he woke up, having spent every last drop of his energy last night crying. And Kurt desperately needed something to do to keep his mind occupied.

So, first things first. Time to gather up some sustenance for the both of them.

He slowly got off the bed, taking extreme care not to wake Carson up, and tiptoed out of the room. He cautiously made his way down the stairs, unsure what to expect or who was still in the house. He half expected all of their relatives to still be there, seated around the living room and waiting to interrogate him ruthlessly about Carson's explosive speech. However, the only sight that greeted him when he finally entered the living room was that of his mother, passed out on the couch and wrapped in a blanket. An empty bottle of gin was on the coffee table, along with a glass. Clearly, she hadn't had the best night, either. Other than her, and Carson sleeping upstairs, the house appeared to be otherwise empty.

Kurt crept into the kitchen as quietly as possible and made himself busy putting together a breakfast of toast and scrambled eggs. He nibbled at his own food as he made Carson's, placing his twin's breakfast on a tray along with a glass of juice and a bottle of ketchup for the eggs. He grasped the tray firmly in hand and carefully carried it back upstairs and into Carson's room, setting it down on his brother's desk and glancing over at him. Carson's nose was twitching as he caught the scent of the food in his sleep, and his eyes slowly fluttered open when Kurt settled back down on the bed.

"Wakey wakey," Kurt murmured, rubbing his back gently. Carson's eyes opened further, gazing at Kurt in a fog between sleep and consciousness as he slowly began to fully wake up.

"How long have I been asleep?" Carson mumbled as he yawned, sitting up stiffly and rubbing his eyes.

"All night," replied Kurt. "It's morning now."

Carson looked at him carefully as he settled back against his pillow. "How long have you been here?"

"All night," Kurt said again.

"I dreamed about you," said Carson after a moment of silence.

"Really?" asked Kurt. "Was it good?"

A fleeting smile, not much more than a small upturn of his mouth, and then Carson stared down at his hands, as if chastising himself for even wanting to smile at all.

"Anyway," Kurt added, clearing his throat and pointing toward the desk, "I made you breakfast."

"So that's what smells so good," Carson said, the smile briefly returning as he set eyes on the tray, which Kurt hurried to bring to him.

"I thought you might be hungry after... well. I thought you'd be hungry, anyway," Kurt stammered out awkwardly as he set the tray down carefully in Carson's lap.

"I am," Carson admitted. "Thank you." He opened the ketchup bottle and began pouring some over the eggs as Kurt watched him, wondering what else to say. They still had so many things to discuss, but he really didn't want to overwhelm Carson, especially not when he had just woken up. He settled for sitting cross legged across from him and watching him eat until Carson looked at him with a knowing look.

"Go ahead," he said between bites of toast.

"What?" asked Kurt, confused.

"Say what's on your mind," replied Carson solemnly.

"I don't have anything on my mind," Kurt lied. Carson raised an eyebrow at him.

"Bullshit. You have that look on your face that you get when you're dying to say something, and you seemed pretty pissed off at me yesterday, so there's really no point in us pretending that everything is ok," he stated simply.

Kurt sighed, looking down at his hands. "Why didn't you just tell me that Santana was pregnant?" he asked quietly. "You used to tell me everything."

"Not everything, trust me," Carson mumbled.

"Fine, you used to tell me lots of things," Kurt tried again. "And you couldn't trust me with something like this?"

"What the hell was I supposed to say, Kurt?" asked Carson, sounding very tired. "I didn't exactly want the entire world finding out."

"I wouldn't have told anybody!" protested Kurt sharply. "Christ, Carson, I can keep a secret just as well as you can."

"No, that's not... that's not what I mean," said Carson, frowning in frustration. "I didn't want anyone finding out, and I especially didn't want you to find out."

"Why not?" asked Kurt, resetting his voice back to a calmer level. "You didn't have to suffer through this by yourself. I don't know why you won't just open up to me."

"You don't get it," said Carson. "Just forget it. Now you know, and so does everyone else. It's over and done with."

"No, Carson, it's not over and done with," retorted Kurt. "Not by a long shot. How did you, of all people, end up knocking someone up?"

"It's not like I planned it, Kurt. Ok?" snapped Carson. "Accidents happen, and we have to fucking deal with them."

"But how are you dealing with it?" Kurt asked, struggling to keep the desperation out of his voice. "Are you really going to move out? Did you even think about how that would affect our relationship?"

"What relationship?" asked Carson, the words piercing Kurt right through the heart.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, what relationship are you even talking about?" clarified Carson, setting down his fork. "Kurt, in case you haven't noticed, we don't really have one of those anymore. We haven't for a long time."

Kurt bit his lip to hold back tears as he focused his gaze squarely on his hands, refusing to look Carson in the eye. "Carson, I know that I've really made a mess of things, but-"

"Yes, you have," agreed Carson. "But not everything that goes on in my life is about you. I have so much of my own shit to deal with, especially right now. So excuse me if not every little thing I do gets filtered through the Kurt lens first. I'm pretty much at my breaking point, and I can't handle any more."

"But you won't even let me try to help you!" exclaimed Kurt. "You don't have to always be such a martyr! Our relationship... yes, our relationship... may be screwed up beyond belief, but you're still my brother. My twin. I'm not the only one here who's screwed things up. You've been moody as hell for a long time and it's a chore to even get you to talk sometimes. And I want to make things better. I do. I really do, and I want us to be lovers again, but I'm not even asking for that. Please, just... just tell me where the hell we went so very wrong that you won't even let me be your brother anymore."

Carson looked at him, his face a mixture of sadness, exhaustion, and something else that Kurt couldn't quite read. He sighed and looked away, toying with the crust of one of his pieces of toast as if it were some sort of lifeline for him.

"You wouldn't understand, Kurt," he murmured.

"What wouldn't I understand?" Kurt demanded.

"You wouldn't want me now," Carson said in a small voice that was heavy with the weight of the world. "Not now."

"Just because of the baby?" asked Kurt. "Carson, that's a crock of bullshit and you know it."

"Not... no, I just... fuck, Kurt, you wouldn't understand, ok? Trust me, you would not want me now. Just drop it," Carson snapped.

"Carson-"

"No!" Carson yelled. "Leave me alone!" He pushed the tray off his lap and got up from the bed, running out of the room and leaving Kurt alone on the bed and on the verge of tears. He heard footsteps pounding down the stairs, and then the front door opening and slamming shut a moment later as Carson left the house. He pulled his knees up to his chest and cried, wanting desperately to do something, anything to help his brother, but feeling powerless to do so.

Goddammit, Carson, you're so fucking frustrating.

Carson ran as fast as he could out of the house and down the street, not having any particular destination in mind but knowing that he had to get as far away from Kurt as possible before he exploded. The last twenty-four hours had been the most bizarre experience of his life. It had really felt like every bit of angst and turmoil that had been brewing within him for the last few months had finally boiled over in the form of his adrenaline-fueled speech at the table. He actually couldn't even believe that he'd done that. He hadn't meant to, not really. He had just been so angry, and then his father had started in with the same old bullshit that Carson had dealt with for his entire life, and suddenly he just could not take one more second. It was either make that speech or commit murder right there in front of everyone. Really, they ought to have been grateful that he showed so much restraint.

But Kurt... Kurt was a whole other kettle of fish. Part of Carson wished that he hadn't dragged Kurt down with him in his metaphoric blaze of glory, but another part of him, deep down inside his soul, was glad that he had. Because now everyone in their family would know that Kurt wasn't the perfect angel everyone had always insisted that he was ever since the day the twins were born. Because inflicting a little humiliation on Kurt had felt good, had felt like vindication, had felt like revenge against him for fucking around with Carson's heart and setting in motion the entire chain of fucked up events that had recently made Carson's life even more of a living nightmare than it already had been.

But he didn't want to feel that way about Kurt. He really didn't. He wanted to feel like he was worthy of Kurt's comforting arms around him the night before. He wanted to feel like he deserved for Kurt to be telling him that he wanted to be lovers again. He did not want to feel like a cheap whore who had a baby on the way and no certain future anymore. Which was, unfortunately, exactly what he felt like because that's exactly what he had become.

If Kurt knew the full truth, he would certainly not be saying that he wanted their relationship back. Carson would be lucky if Kurt ever wanted to look at him again.

Honestly, sometimes he really wished it were possible to trade in your life, like an old car, and get a new one. It seemed like the only solution that would even come close to possibly fixing a fraction of what was wrong with his life.

Somehow, he ended up heading in the direction of Santana's house without even thinking about it. He didn't even realize that's where he was headed until he had turned the corner onto her street and was walking by the rows of familiar houses. It hit him that he had no idea whether Santana had even gone home the night before, and he felt sort of guilty about that. If he was going to be a father whether he liked it or not, he felt like he should at least have some sort of idea where his kid was at all times.

He trudged up the Lopez' driveway, hoping that Santana's father wasn't going to be the one to answer the door, because he had the distinct feeling that Mr. Lopez didn't like him, which probably wasn't going to get any better once he found out that his daughter was pregnant. Carson had dealt with more than enough bullshit in just a few hours. He so did not need to be judged by someone else's dad today.

Fortunately, Santana herself answered the door when he knocked, looking less than thrilled to see him.

"Can I help you?" she asked dryly.

"I don't know. I honestly don't know why I'm even here," Carson answered truthfully.

"Whatever. Come on in, I guess," Santana said with a shrug, opening the door wider and gesturing for him to enter. "The parental units have left for work already, so make yourself at home."

"Oh, yeah. It's Monday. Forgot," Carson said stupidly, walking inside the house and leaning against the wall in the front hallway across from Santana. "How come you're not in school?"

Santana shrugged. "I didn't feel well."

"Is everything ok?" asked Carson worriedly, noticing for the first time that Santana was dressed in pajamas.

"I'm fine," Santana snapped. "I just have a life draining parasite inside of me that's half your problem."

"Look, I'm really not in any mood to deal with this shit today," said Carson tiredly. "I just came here because I didn't know where else to go. My house is basically toxic right now."

"Well, what with your Oscar worthy speech from last night, it isn't any wonder," replied Santana.

"Don't remind me," mumbled Carson. "Everyone already thought I was a fuck-up, I just confirmed it for them."

Santana looked at him silently for a moment before she sighed and rolled her eyes toward the ceiling. "Ok, don't get used to this or anything, because saying nice things to people causes bile to build up and poison me from the inside out, but what you just said is a serious crock of shit."

"What?" asked Carson, confused.

"Look, Carson, as much as it pains me to admit it, you're really not a fuck up," she replied, sounding pained to be saying something that wasn't a barbed insult. "I know that I get on your ass more than usual since I'm knocked up with your spawn and everything, but that shit's just hormones. I didn't mean what I said when I implied that you would be just like your dick cheese of a father."

"I didn't think you did," Carson lied.

"Yeah, you did," said Santana. "I could see it in your eyes as soon as I'd said it. Look, I know that this kid isn't exactly the best news for either of us, but I can tell that you would be the best father you're able to be, if it comes to that. You're one of the smartest and most driven people I know. Christ, you make most of us look like shit in comparison."

"If you're trying to butter me up so that I'll fuck you, you can quit it right now because it's not going to work," said Carson in response.

"Fuck you so much," muttered Santana. "Look, point is, I didn't mean what I said and I'm sorry, ok? Don't make me repeat those last two words ever again, because I'm allergic."

"Fine," said Carson with an amused smile. "And just so we're on the same page, I meant what I said about being able to get us a flat and stuff we need for the baby if you decide to keep it. I can get the money."

"How the hell can you get enough money for a flat? Do you have any idea how much they cost? I'm just being practical, here," said Santana. "You can't sell enough drugs for that plus all the baby shit we would need."

"I have ways, ok?" replied Carson. "If I had to, I could do it."

"So it's some illegal shit?" guessed Santana.

"Maybe," mumbled Carson. "Does that really matter? It's no worse than dealing grass, and we'd have what we needed."

Santana sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose. "Honestly? I still don't even know what I'm going to do. If I should keep it or not."

"Santana, you have to make a decision quickly," Carson pointed out in frustration. "Really. If you don't decide soon, it's pretty much decided for you. Unless you adopt it out." He felt strange and uneasy almost as soon as those words had left his mouth. He wasn't sure how he would feel about his kid being raised by strangers, but he didn't really feel like dwelling on that right now.

"I know, I know," sighed Santana. "Look, I promise I'll make a decision this week, ok?"

"Ok," agreed Carson.

"Now, if you don't mind, I'm kicking your ass out," she continued. "I'm tired as fuck. I needs to catch up on my beauty sleep, and your presence here is hindering my ability to do that. So get the fuck out."

"Are you sure you're feeling ok?" asked Carson. "Should you, like... go to a doctor or something? To check up on stuff?"

"I'm pregnant, Carson, not deathly ill," said Santana with a roll of her eyes. "I've heard fatigue is quite common. Now get out."

"Ok, ok. Jesus," Carson said in defeat as Santana practically pushed him out the door. He considered going to visit Grandma, but he didn't even really feel up to that today. All he really wanted to do was go home and sleep some more. Maybe Santana had the right idea.

He took his time getting back home, almost hoping that no one would be there when he arrived. Well... that Kurt wouldn't be there, anyway. He didn't care one way or the other whether his mother was still around, since she had been passed out drunk when he'd left the house anyway. But he really did not feel like dealing with Kurt trying to have another conversation with him.

He walked up his own driveway and carefully opened the front door as quietly as possible, peering cautiously inside the house. Sheryl had woken up by now and was busy downing a glass of what Carson assumed was a very alcoholic beverage as he passed by her on his way to the stairs. She didn't acknowledge him at all, which was just as well. Carson slowly ascended the stairs, noticing as he stepped onto the upstairs landing that Kurt's bedroom door was closed. Good. He wouldn't notice him, then.

He quickly entered his own room and shut the door quietly, flopping down on his bed and burying his face in his pillow. It smelled slightly of Kurt, which was comforting in a way. He turned around and hugged the pillow to his chest, gazing around his room as he contemplated his life. He tried to imagine what life would be like once the baby came, if it came. He tried to push all his insecurities away and focus on some of the good things. Things like... ah, fuck, what did people usually do with babies?

Teaching it to walk and talk and shit. That could be sort of fun, I guess. I could teach it some swear words. Um, let's see... teaching it how to defend itself from asshole bully kids. Reading stories to it. I guess I would have a built in audience to read out my drafts for the school paper. So, yeah... that's something.

He put the pillow down and got up from the bed, reaching down underneath it and pulling out the plastic shopping bag he kept stashed there. Inside was the blue teddy bear he had bought at the toy store on a whim. He rooted around in his night table drawer until he found a length of ribbon from one of his and Kurt's brief forays into the world of bondage, and sat down on his bed with the ribbon and the bear in front of him. Pushing aside the thought of how fucked up it was that he was using that particular ribbon for this task, he began wrapping it around the bear's neck and tying it into a haphazard gift bow. Maybe he could give the bear to Santana at school tomorrow.

A knock on the door interrupted his thoughts, and he turned to see Kurt cautiously opening the door and peeking his head inside the room.

"Can I come in?" he asked quietly. Carson hesitated a moment before nodding, and Kurt stepped inside, closing the door behind him and perching himself delicately on the bed.

"Is that for the baby?" he asked.

"Yep," replied Carson.

"What's that on his neck?" asked Kurt, peering closer at it. "Is that... is that from the time we-"

"Yes, ok? I didn't have anything else to use," said Carson exasperatedly. "Anyway, Santana won't know the difference. It's just a gift bow."

Kurt tried to hide a smile of amusement, but wasn't very successful.

"Shut up," mumbled Carson.

"I didn't say anything."

"You were thinking it."

"Well... yeah," admitted Kurt with a snort.

"Shut up," Carson said again.

Kurt cleared his throat and looked at him nervously. "Look, Carson, I didn't mean for us to fight this morning. I just... I wish you would open up to me more. Let me be a part of your life again. That's all."

Carson fiercely bit back the tears that briefly stung his eyes. "Can we just not talk about that? I just... fuck, Kurt, I have so much on my plate right now. I physically cannot handle a drop more. Does that make sense?"

Kurt nodded and awkwardly reached out to stroke Carson's hand. "It does, but I just wish you would let me help you. I want to help you deal with this. I... I do love you, you know."

Carson looked down at the bear, fiddling with the sloppy bow and refusing to meet Kurt's gaze, because he knew if he did he would show much more emotion than he was comfortable showing right then.

He says he loves me now, but he doesn't know what I've been doing with strangers in the bathroom of some fucking club. Somehow I doubt he'd love me if he knew.

"Carson?" said Kurt worriedly.

Carson sighed and looked up at the ceiling. "It was an accident, Kurt."

"What was?"

"The baby. We used a condom, but it broke, and, well..." Carson trailed off as Kurt nodded in understanding. "And I just... I..." He wanted so much to just blurt out every last ounce of feelings he had on the subject, but for once in his life, he couldn't form the right words.

"Cars-"

"I don't want to be like him!" Carson blurted out, interrupting Kurt and feeling a rush of relief at having said something. "I don't want to be like Dad," he continued, the words pouring out easier now that he'd started. "I don't have anything to go on when it comes to being a father, other than Dad, and I don't want that, Kurt. I don't want to be that kind of father. I don't want my kid feeling like they were unwanted, and I'm so fucking scared because I'm not even sure I do want this kid. How do I make sure that this baby doesn't ever know that?"

Kurt just looked at him for a moment, his eyes wide as he took in Carson's words. "Carson," he said at last, "Carson, you... you won't be like Dad."

"You don't know that, Kurt," Carson protested desperately. "Dad is the only example I have of how to raise a kid, and he's a fucking shitty example."

Kurt shook his head vigorously. "Carson, no. Let me tell you something, and I want you to listen. You are nothing like Dad. Nothing. You are ten times the man he is, and I have all the confidence in the world that you will be a million times the parent he is."

"But... but I don't even... I mean, this kid wasn't planned..." Carson stammered.

"No, it wasn't, but if I'm sure of anything, Carson, it's that you would never let that child feel unwanted or unloved," Kurt assured him, running his thumb soothingly across Carson's hand. "You would do your best to make sure they never wanted for anything. I think, deep down, you know that's true."

Carson finally locked his eyes on Kurt's, which were wide and earnest and, Carson could tell, one hundred percent convinced that the words he was saying were the gospel truth. No matter how fucked up their relationship might have been at the moment, the fact that Kurt had that kind of confidence in his parenting abilities somehow made Carson feel worlds better. Even if it didn't actually solve any of his problems, it was still nice to know.

"Can... can I hug you?" Kurt asked suddenly, and Carson couldn't suppress a snort as he rolled his eyes and nodded. Kurt leaned forward and wrapped his arms around him tightly, and Carson hugged him back, breathing in Kurt's cologne and letting it comfort him for a moment.

"Thank you," he whispered, and he felt Kurt rub a gentle circle into his back.

"You're welcome," he replied.

The buzzing of Carson's phone interrupted the moment, and Carson reached into his pocket to see the screen lit up with Santana's phone number.

"Hello?" he said into the phone as he and Kurt disengaged from the hug and Kurt began fixing the messy bow on the teddy bear's neck.

"Carson?" said Santana, and Carson knew immediately from the tone of her voice that something was wrong.

"Santana? What's up?" he asked. "Are you... oh god, are you ok?"

"Carson, I can't move," Santana whined pitifully into the phone. She didn't sound at all like her usual snarky self. She sounded very small and weak, in fact, and Carson's heart leaped into his throat.

"What do you mean?" he demanded.

"It hurts so bad, just... I need you to take me to the hospital."

"Don't move," he barked into the phone as he got up from the bed and hurried out of the room and down the stairs. He could hear Kurt following quickly behind him, how on his heels, and Carson very nearly accidentally slammed the front door in his face as he was hurrying out of the house.

"Carson, wait!" Kurt pleaded as he hurried after him. "Wait!"

"I can't, Kurt, just stay home," Carson ordered. His mind was racing with nervousness and worry, and he was trying very hard to maintain a normal rate of breathing. He couldn't stop moving, because he would start screaming if he did.

"I'm coming with you," declared Kurt, finally catching up with Carson and breathing hard from the exertion.

"No," said Carson. "Kurt, just go back."

"I'm coming with you," Kurt repeated.

"NO!"

"Goddammit, Carson, you are my brother, and I'm so fucking sick of you never letting me help or support you, so for god's sake, I am coming with you. I will not let you do this alone," Kurt snapped fiercely, and Carson was seriously not in the mood to argue, nor did he have the time.

And, if he was being honest with himself, Kurt's presence was comforting. Without him, he probably would have fucking lost it at the sight of Santana curled up in her bed and covered in blood. Kurt was the one who helped him get her into her car. Kurt was the one who drove them to the hospital, and Kurt was the one who sat in the cold, uncomfortable emergency room chairs with them, holding Carson to his chest while Carson held Santana, who was clearly in excruciating pain.

A million thoughts ran through Carson's mind that afternoon, first as he held Santana through the pain and later as he and Kurt sat in identical chairs by her bed, waiting for the inevitable moment when the doctor came in to give them the news they all knew was coming.

He thought about how much he had gotten used to the idea of being a father, and how much he had already begun to think of the baby as someone who was going to be an intricate part of his life. Someone he did love, regardless of how he felt about their effect on his future, and someone for whom he had already sacrificed so much. He had expected to have more time to prepare for the end if it was going to occur. He didn't know how to feel about what was happening right now, and he didn't want to think about it, because he was afraid he would just completely shut down if he tried.

As it was, he felt at least part of his heart shatter into pieces when the moment of truth finally came and the doctor confirmed the obvious. Logically, he knew that this was probably the outcome that was best for everyone involved, but emotionally, he wasn't feeling that way at all.

I'm sorry, baby. I hope you knew somehow that you were only unexpected, not unloved.

Kurt struggled to know what to say as he and Carson finally made their way home a good twelve hours later. It was so late that the streets were practically deserted, and the silence in the air only accentuated the sound of their shoes on the pavement as they walked up the driveway, which was currently taken up most of the way by their father's car. Kurt hoped he would make himself scarce. He was the last thing Carson needed right now. They had dropped Santana off an hour earlier, and Carson had wanted to stay with her overnight, but Santana had vehemently refused, telling them just take her car and go home.

Carson headed immediately for the couch when they entered the house, sinking down onto it and burying his face in his hands. Kurt sat down gingerly beside him, reaching a hand out to rub soothingly at his neck.

"Do you want me to get you anything?" he asked.

"No," Carson replied shortly.

"We should get you to bed," Kurt tried again. "You must be exhausted."

"No," Carson repeated. "I'm fine, ok? I'm just fucking fine."

Kurt jumped back at the harsh words, but reminded himself that Carson had been through an awful lot in the past two days. "Carson... honey, you really need to sleep. You'll feel better in the morning." Carson didn't respond, and Kurt struggled to think of something comforting to say. "Actually, I would think you would be kind of relieved that it... you know. That this happened."

"Why would I be relieved, Kurt?" Carson snapped. "Why would this be a thing that causes me to feel relief? Please, explain."

"Well, I just meant... I mean, you didn't even know if you were ready for this baby, so now it's like... you don't need to worry about it..." Kurt stammered lamely, knowing just how ridiculous he sounded. Of course Carson wasn't going to feel relieved about this, especially not right this moment.

God, Kurt, just shut up before you make things worse.

Carson took a shaky breath and sighed, leaning his head on Kurt's shoulder, and Kurt could see tears streaming silently down his twin's face.

"I was getting used to the idea," he said quietly. "I know I wouldn't have been a great father or anything, but I was getting money..... was ready to... to try..." His breath caught in his throat, and Kurt hugged him close, wanting to be there to catch his fall when he inevitably broke down.

"Kurt's right, son," came a familiar voice, and Kurt turned to see his father coming down the stairs, a suitcase in hand as he took in the sight of the twins on the couch. "This was a problem that solved itself, and you should consider yourself lucky. God knows what kind of kid you would have unleashed onto the world."

And in that moment, Kurt could have sworn he literally felt Carson snap. His brother calmly wiped his eyes, stood up from the couch, and crossed right over to their father. He stood there for a moment, glaring at him with very evident, very fiery hatred, and then, before Kurt knew what was happening, he was watching as Carson wordlessly swung back a fist and connected it straight to Neal's eye. Their father yelped and stumbled back, landing in a heap at the foot of the stairs as he held his injured eye and looked at Carson in shock.

"Fuck you," Carson spat at him before marching past him and up the stairs. Neal looked over at Kurt, as if to gain reassurance that he was the one in the right, but Kurt just didn't have the energy to deal with it. He got up from the couch himself and crossed over to the stairs, shaking his head at his father in disbelief.

"You got what you deserved," he stated simply. Anger crossed Neal's face for a moment before he grunted and grabbed his suitcase again, heading for the front door in a pissed off huff, muttering "Glad to be out of this fucking family" under his breath.

Kurt watched him go and then gazed up the stairs wearily before beginning to climb them, fully prepared to spend another night putting Carson back together again.