Santana was curled up on her couch, hair totally disheveled and sticking in every direction. Her face was pale and reflected the bluish-glow of her TV. A big blanket wrapped around her body which was also swathed in a huge baggy sweatshirt.

Little boxes were scattered on the floor alongside some pamphlets which he couldn't make out from his angle.

He unwrapped the scarf from around his neck, walking to the kitchen and placing it on the back. He moved to take off his jacket as well, but then he realized that he didn't know how long he would be there.

He walked back over to Santana, she still in a blank stare.

"San?"

Her head snapped around to face him. "Oh, hi Kurt. Sit down. Do whatever."

Kurt cringed at the scratchy sound of her voice and at her eyes which were bloodshot and glassy.

Kurt looked around and awkwardly sat on an plush foot stool, away from the broken-looking girl.

"What's up?"

Santana hauled herself up into a sitting position, shivering despite the heavy blanket around her. He had never seen her like this. In fact, he had never even seen her without mascara and her hair done.

"I don't know how to say this," she croaked, moving the blanket off of her to reveal that she was not wearing any pants and only a pair of cloth underwear.

"Uhm, just say it?" Kurt attempted.

A tear rolled down her cheek and Kurt was unsure if he should have been holding her, but her messy attire kept him at bay until she gave him further instruction.

"I cheated on you with Puck, not that you didn't know."

I shrugged. "I didn't do much to stop it so..."

"Yeah," Santana said, sniffling a bit and wiping her nose on her sweatshirt.

Kurt tapped his fingers along is thigh, waiting for her to continue.

"I really don't know how to say this," she repeated. She shuffled over to the little boxes and dug through them, then tossed one into Kurt's lap.

He caught the package, but continued to look at her. "Don't hate me," she breathed, hiding her face in the couch cushions, the tremors in her back an indication that she was going to cry if she wasn't already.

He slowly tilted his head down and looked at the pink package with the words "Pregnancy Test" in big fuchsia letters.

His brain ceased to work. There was no function as he opened clearly already used box. He fingered at the tear in the top for a few seconds absentmindedly before he opened it and shook the device into his hand.

In the middle of the blue-capped stick was a plus sign blinking on the digital screen.

He looked back at her. "Are you sure?" he asked. Scaring himself by how dead and hollow his voice sounded.

Suddenly Santana became very angry. She jumped up, flinging the blanket off of her. "Am I sure?" she thundered. She grabbed the little boxes and hurled them at Kurt's groin or head. "This one says I am! And this one! And this one! And this one too!" her voice cracked and she collapsed on the floor, sobbing violently.

Kurt looked back at the blinking plus sign, now hearing his own heart beat in time with the pulsations of the digital screen. His heart beat pounded in his ears as his mind finally stared to wok again.

"But Santana, how could it be mine? We always use condoms," he continued in his monotone.

"It broke once. About three weeks ago. When you used the condom that Blaine loaned you. I didn't want to tell you and I thought that I got off of you before anything could happen, but apparently I wasn't fast enough. I felt it tear inside me, but I wasn't sure at first."

Kurt's mind was starting to speed up, steadily. "Then how does Puck..." he trailed off.

Santana finally lifted her face from the floor. "Kurt, I'm so sorry. But I have no idea if the baby is yours or Pucks. You have just as much a chance as him."

The word "baby" pushed his mind into over-drive. A baby? A human being? Something he would have to take care of?

He began to hyperventilate. "Santana! B-b-but how am I supposed to care for a baby? And I don't even know if it's mine!" his voice cracked sharply.

"I was going to get a paternity test, before I told anyone, but we live in Lima, Ohio and they don't exactly have up-to-date equipment here when it comes to DNA testing. Besides, I can't go to the hospital because my Dad's a doctor! I-I was going to send away for it, but I don't have the money and I'm not ready to tell my parents just yet. Anyways, the only DNA testing that is available in a thousand mile radius of Lima can be taken when the baby is at 25 weeks. I'm so sorry, Kurt."

Tears streamed down Santana's face and she fell to the ground again, but Kurt's head was spinning. He was a possible father for an actual human child.

Without consciously choosing to, he was suddenly on the ground with Santana, holding her against his body and making promises under his breath to her.

Promises that he had no idea if he could keep or if he would even want to keep them.

Santana was pregnant. And he might be a father.

How does one handle that?

All he knew at that moment that every molecule of his being was screaming at him to find Blaine.

Rachel was moaning and writhing from Blaine's touch. His fingers glided smoothly in and out of her opening as she clutched the pillow and groaned out his name, making a big show of her ecstasy.

Meanwhile, Blaine was insanely bored.

Before he was aware of the action, he began thinking about Kurt. How unbelievably soft the boy's lips were and how nicely his arms fit around the others torso. He enjoyed the feeling of them being pressed flat together without boobs getting in the way and how his chest tapered down into square hips instead of curving into a rounded waist. He secretly adorned the way he smelled musky like a boy and not flowery or fruity. Those couple kisses were electric and he couldn't remember the last time a kiss had thrilled him so much...perhaps never.

Did he like guys? He had kissed his neighbor, Greg, as a dare once when he was 12, but it didn't mean anything. He had made out with plenty of girls, and had sex with two, but no matter how much he wanted to deny it, those few kisses with Kurt had seemed more romantic than anything he had ever experianced. Could he just be-

"Ohgod, Blaine!" Rachel keened as her orgasm crashed over her. Snapping back into the present, he tried to work her over in time with her clenches, but by the time he had regained his bearings, her quick orgasm was pretty much over.

She was gasping and panting only in her bra, tank top and underwear, her own hand soothing her clit. It was an erotic sight that Blaine felt he should have been aroused by, in addition to him getting to finger his girlfriend.

But no, he was barely half-hard if anything and not nearly interested enough to want to continue down the path of no return.

She climbed into his lap, sucking at his neck and grinding down on him. He automatically rested his hands on her ass, but that didn't seem to effect him either, he played along though.

"So I guess this was a good way to make up? Can we do that again?" she breathed into his ear, nipping at the lobe.

Blaine held back a groan. But not a passion-like groan. More of a "great-I-have-to-prune-my-fingers-for-another-45-minutes-until-Rachel-gets-off" groan of frustration.

Just as he was about to try to talk his way out of it, his phone rang in his pocket. He pulled it out, ignoring Rachel's irritated look.

His heart skipped a beat. "It's Kurt. He's calling me. I better take this, he's never called me before."

Blaine answered the phone.

"Hello?"

He was met with a loud sobbing and choking sound that was obviously Kurt.

"Kurt! Whatswrong?" Blaine rushed out, a million worst-case scenarios passing through his mind. Was Kurt in a car crash? Where was he calling from? Was he hurt? Did his dad have another heart attack? Or worse, did his father die?

"M-m-my, no, h-her, j-j-just find me ple-ease. I need you."

Blaine was out the door by "come" and in his car by "please."