Kurt's hands clenched on his pillow, his hips raised in the air, and a guttural sound escaped his throat.

Blaine hummed, as he gripped Kurt's ass cheeks gently but firmly, spreading them apart so his tongue could easily slide between them and past the tight ring of muscle surrounding his entrance.

Kurt whined. “Please, please, please…”

He could actually feel Blaine smile right there, oh god.

“I'm going to die,” Kurt babbled incoherently. “If you don't touch my cock right now I'm going to die and it will be your fault and you will hate yourself and, oh my god, Blaine, please just touch me…”

Blaine chuckled – the vibrations seemed to reach the very center of Kurt's body – and finally, finally slid a hand towards his front, so his fingers could wrap around the hot, hard length of Kurt's cock.

It only took a few strokes. Blaine's tongue kept fucking him steadily and the downright obscene noises he made were driving Kurt absolutely crazy. He spilled all over the sheets, screaming his release into the pillow, and Blaine pulled away at last, sliding up his body, fitting his own cock between the mess in Kurt's ass and rubbing against him, like his lust was some animal he just couldn't control.

They were silent for a moment after that, panting together in the darkness of the room, feeling the heat radiating from the other's body.

“We're disgusting,” Kurt groaned then, because he had dropped onto the pool of his own come on the sheets, too boneless and spent too really care. “This is the third time I'm going to have to change the sheets this week…”

“We can stop having sex if you want…” Blaine mumbled, sleepily.

Kurt snorted because yeah, that wasn't happening. He knew they would have to get up and shower and change the sheets again soon – and probably order some dinner, because they had gone straight to bed as soon as they had entered the apartment and Kurt was starving – but for now, he was happy right here, playing with Blaine's curls.

“Do you have to work next weekend?” Blaine asked as he nuzzled Kurt's naked shoulder.

“Only on Friday. I have the Hughes' wedding. Why?” Kurt answered, hooking his feet under Blaine's, seeking some warmth.

Blaine yawned. “I have a fight on Saturday night. I was hoping you would come?” He looked up at Kurt, big bright hazel eyes settled on him.

Kurt's hand stilled in his hair. “A fight?”

“Yeah. It's at the gym. Some of the guys I train are fighting too, but mine is the big event,” he shrugged, as if it didn't matter, but Kurt could see the slight blush on his cheeks even in the dark. “We compete against other gyms every now and then…”

“Oh, I…” Kurt bit his lip. Seeing Blaine getting hit and hitting some other man wasn't exactly in his list of fun things to do on a Saturday night.

Blaine's face fell. He tried to hide his disappointment, but he didn't succeed. “It's fine if you don't want to. Or if you're busy. I just thought I would ask in case… but it's fine, really.”

Kurt felt immediately bad. He caressed Blaine's cheek and smiled at him. Just because he didn't like – he didn't understand – something, it didn't mean it had to be wrong, right? Boxing had always looked violent, but if it was important to Blaine… shouldn't he be a little more supportive?

“I would love to go,” Kurt said, leaning in for a quick kiss.

Blaine shook his head. “It's fine, Kurt. I understand. You don't have to go.”

“I want to,” Kurt assured him. “I want to be there to cheer on you. I'm sorry if I always seem… you know, a little bit ignorant when it comes to this… I just never understood why someone would enjoy punching someone else and call it a sport…”

“It's not about hurting people,” Blaine said quietly. “Not for me, at least. I know there are guys out there who truly enjoy that part, but I don't… that's not what it does for me. It makes me feel in control. It makes me feel like I'm not… helpless, you know?”

Kurt nuzzled their noses together. “Okay,” he nodded, and Blaine smiled softly at him. “What if we take a shower and then we go down to that little bodega you like so much and get some dinner?”

Blaine hummed his agreement. “That sounds perfect.”

They walked by the nursery's closed door on the way out of Kurt's bedroom. Kurt pretended not to see it, and told himself he was just waiting for the right time to tell Blaine the truth. It just wasn't tonight.

He had been telling himself that for weeks now.

*

Later that week, Kurt received a message from Tanya, reminding him that she had a doctor's appointment and he was welcome to join her. Kurt accepted the offer immediately, and then struggled to focus on work for the rest of the week. He wished he could have vented some of his excitement with Blaine but he'd been so busy training, they'd hardly seen each other.

After the fight, Kurt thought. I'll tell him after the fight.

Kurt was so anxious that he arrived at the hospital forty five minutes early, and then simply paced around the waiting room to kill some time. Tanya chuckled when she arrived, leaning against the doorway to watch him.

“Are you okay?” She asked, startling him.

“Tanya! Hi!” He exclaimed, crossing the room to get to her. “How are you?”

She smoothed her hand over her belly, smiling. “We are both okay. You look a little… are you freaking out?” She tilted her head to the side as she regarded him.

“Me? No, no, I'm fine. Should we take care of the paper work while we wait?” He said, wriggling his hands together.

Tanya rolled her eyes and grabbed them, squeezing them gently. “It's gonna be fine. Today you're going to get quite a show, and see how active this little boy or girl has been, dancing around on my bladder all the time.”

Kurt beamed at her, excitement finally winning over nerves. He squeezed her hands back. “It's going to be amazing. Come on, let's do this.”

Kurt had come prepared to pay Tanya's medical costs from now on, glad to feel like he was finally doing something a father does, for his baby. He could tell Tanya wasn't very comfortable with it, but he didn't let her argue.

“Do you have time to get a bite after we're done here?” Tanya said as they returned to the waiting room. “We could chat. It's been a while.”

“I would love that,” Kurt replied. Even if he'd had any meetings, he would have cancelled them for her. There was very little he would say no to when it came to this woman. She was giving him the most precious gift, and he wanted to give her the world in return for it.

They looked at magazines and talked for a while, as they waited for the doctor to call Tanya. She was laughing hysterically at Kurt's appalled face as he stared at some very unflattering maternity clothes when the door to one of the offices opened and Tanya's doctor beckoned them.

“It's nice to see you again, Tanya,” Doctor Collins said as they entered. She shook their hands. “And you are…?”

“This is Kurt,” Tanya introduced with a big smile. “He's the baby's father.”

“I'm adopting the baby. I'm gay, I've never knocked a woman up in my life…” Kurt babbled, nerves overtaking again. Tanya burst out laughing and the doctor bit her lip to keep herself from doing the same. “I mean… god, I'm sorry. I'm ruining this already, aren't I?”

“He's a little nervous,” Tanya excused him sweetly.

“I can see that,” the doctor said understandingly. “But don't worry. We'll just talk a little, see how Tanya has been doing lately, and then we'll do a sonogram, okay?”

“Okay,” Kurt nodded, taking a deep breath.

The doctor asked some questions that Tanya answered easily – mostly about what she had been eating and how she had been feeling – and then weighed her. Doctor Collins smiled pleasantly as Tanya stepped down from the scale.

“Everything seems to be going wonderfully,” she said and then gestured towards the other side of the office. “Shall we get that sonogram done, then?”

Kurt helped Tanya onto the examination table. The little screen next to it was dark now, but Kurt could barely look away from it, knowing what would appear on it very soon. Tanya lifted her top to reveal her belly, beautifully dark skin stretched to grow a home for the baby, and the doctor squirted some ultrasound gel onto it, making her wince at the coldness.

Tanya smiled up at him. “Are you ready?”

Kurt nodded, and accepted the hand she was offering, but couldn't find the right words to reply.

His blue eyes were fixed on that dark little screen, where some grey and white shapes began to form soon. He remembered the sonogram picture he had at home, stuck to his corkboard in his office, so he could look at it while he worked. He could see the shape of the baby, but it wasn't as baby-like, still too little. But now… oh, what a difference just a few weeks could make. Kurt could feel his heart in his throat as he started distinguishing every little part of his baby – the little arms and legs, the head. Oh my god, were those the fingers? Tiny, little adorable fingers...

The baby shifted slightly, one of its arms moved, and Tanya squeezed Kurt's hand almost painfully, bringing him back from his daze.

“Look at that!” She exclaimed. “It's waving for Daddy!”

Kurt let out what could only be described as half a sob, half a giggle. He covered his mouth with his free hand and noticed his eyes were starting to fill with tears. It was happening. It was really happening…

“I can't believe it,” he murmured. He couldn't look away. “I can't believe how… how beautiful he or she is already. Oh my god, that's… I can't believe this.”

Doctor Collins grinned at him and winked. “It's about to get better,” and she moved in front of the machine for a moment, blocking the view.

Kurt was about to complain, but then a steady sound filled the room. He couldn't place it at first, busy as he was trying not to yell at the doctor to move away because he wanted to see his baby… and then he realized it was a heartbeat.

It was the baby's heartbeat.

It was the most wonderful thing he had ever heard.

He leaned so he could wrap Tanya in an awkward one-armed hug. He could feel his tears slipping into her crazy black hair, which was tickling his nose, but he didn't want to let go.

“Thank you,” he whispered, more moved than he had ever been. “Thank you so much for this. Thank you.”

Tanya held him back and smiled broadly. She looked at the doctor over his shoulder. “I think he's going to want all this on DVD, please.”

The doctor simply grinned at them and slipped a blank DVD into the machine.

*

Kurt spent that night curled up on the couch, with a bowl of popcorn on his lap, re-watching the sonogram over and over and over again. He recorded it on his phone and sent it to his dad, who called him five minutes later, near tears himself.

The sound of the baby's heartbeat followed him around all night, even in his dreams.

*

Having Saturdays off was a very rare thing for Kurt. He was used to running around at venues getting the very last details ready for whatever wedding was about to take place. This time, though, he was blessedly free. It would have been a perfect opportunity to drag Blaine into bed and spend a few long, languid hours mapping every little inch of his tanned skin with his eager tongue, but Blaine was preparing for his fight that night – something Kurt was trying very actively not to think about.

Instead, he filled his day with mundane tasks and errands that had been piling up over the last few weeks. He went grocery shopping and then stopped to get some paint samples for the baby's room, as well as a pile of magazines with ideas on how to decorate it. He wondered if Dior grey was a little too serious for a newborn…

Once he was home, all the groceries were put away, and the paint samples were stuck to the wall, he took a long shower, letting the hot water run down his back to massage the knots that had formed there during the last week. He craved Blaine's firm touch, always so capable of making him relax, loosen him up. But thinking about him only made him think about the fight he was going to see tonight, and Kurt had to admit that he was nervous.

He wasn't sure what to expect. The only sports he had ever seen live had been football games, both at high school and college, when Finn was playing at OSU. He had never managed to remain interested in it, and his attention had often drifted to the cheerleading routines or the outfits some people in the audience were wearing. After his father had a heart attack when he was a junior in high school, he mostly focused on stopping his dad from eating junk food at half time. But boxing? What was he supposed to do? Cheer on Blaine and hope he hurt the other guy more than the other guy could hurt him? It just seemed… barbaric, somehow.

But he didn't want Blaine to be disappointed – he had been nothing but amazing since he had walked into Kurt's life, and he felt like he owed him this. All he had to do was go to this one fight, and then if he didn't like it, he could be honest with Blaine. And if things went just like Kurt expected them to, Blaine would go his own way as soon as he learned about the baby. So Kurt wouldn't have to fake interest in a sport he didn't understand.

After his shower, he spent some time moisturizing. The past week had been so hectic that he had barely been able to keep up with his usual routine. He went through his closet, trying to decide what to wear. He wanted to look good for Blaine, but he wasn't sure what the dress code was for this kind of thing. A suit was surely out of the question. He ended up choosing one of his favorite pairs of jeans, a red shirt with the sleeves rolled-up to his elbows and a light jacket in case it got cold later.

By the time he made it to Blaine's gym, there were people everywhere. Blaine's fight was the last one, so the event had already started hours ago. He found a seat to the side, and looked around anxiously. With just one quick glance, he knew he didn't fit in. He wished he had brought a friend – he had a feeling Santana would have enjoyed this, somehow – but there was no point in regretting it now. He sat there by himself, cringing a little at the crude remarks a group of men sitting nearby were making about the girls in bikinis who announced the rounds.

Kurt distracted himself – especially from the smell of sweat and too much Axe trying to cover it – by texting Rachel, who needed help choosing an outfit for date night with her husband. He rolled his eyes at several of her suggestions, before sending her in the right direction. She was a lot more stylish than she had been back in high school, but there were still days when Kurt couldn't understand the combinations she came up with.

Just as he was sending her one more text to make sure he chose the black stilettos to go with her dress, a man with a microphone came up onto the stage. Ring. Whatever that thing was called.

“And now, ladies and gentlemen, for the main event!” He said, as the crown roared. “From Gleason's Gym in Brooklyn, weighing 146 pounds… Derek ‘the Tiger' Vaughn!”

A muscular black man stepped onto the ring, making Kurt's eyes bulge out of his skull. He wondered if his nickname had anything to do with his hairdo – short, with a few shaved stripes by the sides of his head. That was who Blaine was fighting tonight? He looked taller than Blaine… and oh, god, look at those arms…

He definitely didn't like this.

A good part of the audience showed its appreciation for the boxer, most of them wearing t-shirts with the name of the gym Vaughn belonged to. Kurt tightened his hands on his lap, squeezing his own fingers almost painfully.

“And from our very own Mendez Gym,” the announcer continued, as the crowd grew louder. “Weighing 144 pounds, and two times champion of the Inter-gym tournament… Blaine Anderson!”

Kurt's heart was in his throat as Blaine appeared. He had a little red robe wrapped around him, a perfect contrast to the other man's white robe. He clapped his gloved hands together and raised his arms in greeting, making the audience scream even more. His eyes swiped over the crowd, like he was searching for something, until they finally settled on Kurt. The huge smile that bloomed on Blaine's face was enough to melt Kurt's insides, and he managed to smile back, even though he was still quite terrified.

The announcer was talking again, and Blaine's expression changed to one of concentration as he looked at him, but Kurt couldn't understand a single word. Both boxers were removing their robes, and though their difference in weight wasn't that big, Kurt couldn't help feeling like Blaine was about to face a giant.

When the first round started, Kurt was tempted to cover his eyes with his hands. Blaine and Derek circled each other a few times before Derek threw the first punch, which Blaine avoided easily. He hurried to throw a punch of his own, landing on Derek's right shoulder, but not causing any changes to his posture.

Kurt tried to make sense of what the people around him were saying – they talked about right hooks and jabs, but to Kurt everything looked the same. He squealed embarrassingly loudly when Derek planted his fist on Blaine's left eye, and the guy sitting next to him turned to look at him as if worried he was having a stroke.

When the bell announced the end of the round, Kurt sighed in relief and watched as Blaine sat on a little stool at his corner, where someone handed him a bottle of water and spoke in his ear. But the intermission – pause? Break? – was over too quickly, and once again the men were facing each other at the center of the ring, as Kurt grabbed onto his own knees with a painful grip.

Derek charged in immediately, cornering Blaine against the ropes and barely giving him time to put his arms up to protect himself, let alone hit back. Kurt was breathless, fighting the urge to run towards them and get in the middle, to scream at the top of his lungs – how can you enjoy this? How can anyone enjoy this? This is not a sport, this is violence.

But Blaine managed to duck and get away, punching Derek on his side as he did. They went at each other viciously now, landing blow after blow. A line of blood was dripping down Blaine's face, making Kurt's stomach churn. 

The second round ended as quickly as it had started. Someone cleaned the cut on Blaine's eyebrow as he drank water greedily. He said something to the man who was helping him, and Kurt tried to read his lips but he couldn't. He wished Blaine would look his way, at least so Kurt wouldn't feel so nauseatingly alone in a place where he didn't belong. At least so he could reassure Kurt that it wasn't as bad as it looked.

The third round was torture. Both men looked terrible, and Kurt could see the sweat glistening on their bodies. Blaine was relentless – he moved as if he didn't know what exhaustion was. Kurt knew the way those muscles shifted, remembered what they felt like under his palms, hot and close. But he wasn't used to seeing Blaine hurting someone, as everyone around them screamed for blood.

And then he caught a good look at Blaine's face, which was starting to swell. What he saw there wasn't violence, a raw desire to hurt someone just for the sake of it. He saw concentration. He saw something he had never seen before – it was control and power, mixed with the kind of peace that shouldn't have had a place on a ring. It was as if, while he was standing up there, nothing could touch Blaine. The only thing he had to deal with was the man in front of him, but he had the means to keep him away, to defend himself. He could let go.

Kurt would never understand the sport, or why people called it a sport. But he could understand that. He could understand Blaine. He could listen to him, watch him, and truly understand why he needed this, why he was passionate about it, why he had made it his life.

Derek hit steadily at Blaine's stomach – at those rock hard abs Kurt was fascinated with, the ones he loved tracing with his mouth, licking at the lines and curves and hard muscle hiding underneath the warm skin. Blaine stumbled, and Kurt held his breath, but then he regained his balance, and threw a firm punch to Derek's jaw, making him back off. Blaine didn't wait for Derek to recover, he went in again, his fist colliding with his stomach and then with his face, right-left, right-left in quick succession. He didn't even give Derek time to breathe, he just kept going, until Derek lost his footing and fell backwards. Only then did Blaine step back, waiting and watching, always alert.

But despite his better attempts, Derek didn't manage to get back to his feet before the referee could count to ten. The fight was over, and Blaine had won.

Kurt was out of his seat before he knew what he was doing, and crossing the smelly gym, pushing through the crowd, right towards the ring. Blaine's arm was being raised in the air in victory, as everyone cheered for him. Blaine's smile was huge, even though it looked a little painful. His eyes were moving through the crowd eagerly, searching and searching…

Just as his face began to fall, his eyes found Kurt, standing just a few steps away and staring up at him as desperately as Blaine had looked for him. His eye was swollen, his lower lip cracked, and his eyebrow was still bleeding; his body was covered in nasty sweat and his curls were damp and clinging to his forehead. There was a large bruise blooming on his side already, and more were sure to appear in the next couple of hours. But he was still the most beautifully stunning man Kurt had ever seen in his life.

Someone handed him a trophy – not big or shiny enough to go to all this trouble, Kurt thought as he watched Blaine accept it – and he lifted it in the air as the applause grew louder. He smiled and waved, and then handed the trophy to the guy who had been assisting him through the fight, before he climbed through the ropes and out of the ring, right next to Kurt.

“You came,” he said a little dazedly, as if he couldn't believe Kurt was there.

“I told you I would,” Kurt muttered, as his eyes travelled frantically all over his bruised face, dying to reach out and soothe. “I… are you…”

Blaine must have seen how unsure and awkward Kurt felt, how much he needed to touch him but didn't dare while surrounded by all these people. “Come on.”

Kurt didn't ask where they were going. He didn't care. He just followed Blaine through the crowd, wincing in sympathy every time someone clapped Blaine on the shoulder to express their congratulations. Soon they were walking down a corridor, away from the noise and the people, through a door at the end.

Blaine dropped onto a bench, finally looking tired. Kurt glanced around the locker room, still feeling out of place, suddenly overwhelmed with the strong smell that always permeated locker rooms, no matter how clean they were. He closed the door and leaned against it, watching Blaine as he unpeeled the bandages from his hands.

“Are you okay?” He asked.

Blaine looked up at him and tried to smile. He cringed as his lip stretched, cracking again. A few drops of blood appeared at the cut. “I'm fine. You should see the other guy,” he joked.

Kurt didn't smile. “That was… hard to watch, I have to admit. But I think I understood a little bit more of you tonight, while you were up there.”

Blaine frowned, looking absolutely pathetic with his swollen eye. “Is that a bad thing?”

“No, it's not,” Kurt said calmly. He finally smiled, a soft kind of smile. “Congratulations, Blaine.”

“Thanks. It might not be a big title, but…” He answered, with a little self-conscious shrug.

Kurt shook his head and took a few steps forward. “No, it is. You should be proud of yourself.” He straddled the bench so he could face Blaine, reaching with tentative hands to touch him. His fingers grazed the bruised skin around his eye, his lip, his stomach. He grinned teasingly. “You look awful.”

“Just what every guy wants to hear…” Blaine teased back, catching Kurt's hand and pressing a small kiss to his fingertips. “Thank you for being here, Kurt.”

“There's nowhere else I'd rather be,” Kurt murmured, deciding running his fingers through Blaine's hair was probably the least painful of his options. “But, and don't get me wrong, I'm kind of sick of the smell in this place. I think I'm ready to go.”

Blaine chuckled lowly. “It's okay. I understand. I guess I'll see you tomorrow? Or later this week?”

“What the hell are you talking about?” Kurt asked, arching an eyebrow. “Do you seriously think I'm going to just abandon you like this? I'm taking you home, Blaine. I just watched you get repeatedly punched by a guy several inches taller than you…”

“… he wasn't that much taller,” Blaine whined under his breath.

“I'm taking you home and taking care of you,” Kurt continued, not paying attention to him. “You can't stop me.”

Blaine blinked up at him, something achingly similar to shock in his face, as if he hadn't been expecting those words. As if he had expected Kurt to just leave him there by himself in a smelly locker room with his face looking like a truck had driven all over it.

Blaine swallowed, and it seemed a difficult thing to do. His eyes, both the swollen one and the healthy one, fixed on Kurt. He looked completely blown away by the man sitting beside him.

“The thought didn't even cross my mind,” he whispered, amazed.

He didn't need a big, shiny trophy. Kurt Hummel was better than any prize he could ever win. Blaine accepted his hand, let Kurt pulled him to his feet, and felt like this was a much bigger victory than the one he had reached on the ring.

*