Sugar Baby

Twelve

“‘’Scuse me, horny bastards,” Puck said with a smirk as he sidled past Kurt and Blaine, in each other’s arms in the middle of the kitchen, kissing the life out of each other. Kurt smiled at the man as Blaine shifted them slightly to the right so Puck could reach the kettle and continued to kiss him, his hand sliding down Kurt’s side, fingers spread and barely brushing against his ass. “Nope, none of that while I’m in the room,” Puck scolded them, grabbing Kurt around the waist and pulling him off Blaine. “No offence, Kurt, but I don’t particularly want to watch my boss stick it up you. Prefer to keep scenes like that to my own apartment with people I don’t know in front of the camera.”

“Well, isn’t that the most delicate way to put the fragile and beautiful art of lovemaking?” Quinn said sarcastically from the other side of the kitchen, winking at Kurt. “Do you three want waffles while I’m cooking, or can I actually get by without having to make everyone food?”

“Actually, I’m going to change, these jeans are getting too tight,” Kurt said. Blaine’s hand slid down his chest to press against the new slight curve of his belly, and Kurt darted up for a sweet but all too short kiss before he was almost skipping down the hall, alight with happiness, with Blaine being so affectionate and everyone finally starting to accept him as one of them.

At least, he was dizzily happy until Sebastian was in front of him, glaring and curling his lip in contempt at the place where his waistband strained around his swelling stomach, and he stopped short. “Can I help you?” he asked, loathing seeping into his tone as he stared boldly up at the man.

“You think you’re so clever,” Sebastian observed silkily, stepping closer and forcing Kurt to stumble back in order to keep the distance between him and the man. “You think that Blaine’s going to fall for you overnight and take you into this world because you’re pregnant. Newsflash: this is the real world. Not one of your insufferable romantic comedies or a fairytale book. This is real life, and Blaine is never going to fall for you because you persuaded him not to use protection once and, oops, got knocked up because you’re a little freak. A baby won’t change him, and he’d never go for you anyway.”

The man started to turn away, clearly finished in his rant, but Kurt folded his arms resolutely over his chest and said, “And what makes you think Blaine wouldn’t go for me, exactly?”

“Shall we review?” Sebastian asked, voice coolly and calmly bitchy. “You’re only sixteen, for one, and you lied to him for months about being experienced and slutty so he’d keep taking you to bed when you were just guessing your way around the bedroom. You’re a freak and he knocked you up, something he never thought he’d have to deal with, and now he’s saddled with a depressed little pregnant orphan hanging around him when he could be hooking up with guys so much hotter and working. You never stop criticising him for his lifestyle before you met, and you expect him to commit to you when it really is nothing but sex. And you can’t even give him what he wants, and that’s for someone to fuck him. He’s gay, he doesn’t want a pussy. You can’t even imagine the noises he used to make when I fucked him: he begged for it, he wanted it so much it hurt, he never stopped moaning and shouting and screaming about how good it was. You can’t give him anything that can make him happy.”

“You...you’re wrong!” Kurt exclaimed resolutely, standing his ground despite how much he wanted to curl up in a corner and cry. “Blaine cares about me, it’s not just sex anymore, and he doesn’t care about being fucked, I know plenty of other ways to make him scream, thank you very much.”

“Not to mention that you’re not exactly good-looking,” Sebastian observed, eyes travelling up Kurt’s body with clear contempt. “That gay face, how pale you are, the freckles, the strange eyes, the terrible hair and the fact that you’re getting fat now. Blaine won’t be physically attracted to you for much longer, and then this whole thing will be over and I’ll have him back.”

Kurt tried to come up with a retort, but all the insults brought back so many memories, his head spinning with them, and he fled before letting Sebastian see him cry, blasting into the room where he and Blaine slept and talked and made love in early morning light, wrapping his arms around Blaine’s pillow and crying into the cotton.

The tears eventually slowed and stopped, and Kurt stood up, facing the mirror hanging from the wall, examining himself in intimate detail, undressing and turning around to examine every inch of him. In this position, he could see how clearly his stomach bulged out, an obvious curve that would only grow over the next seven months. No wonder Blaine had slowed with the offers of sex, not to mention it had recently always been slow, sweet love-making in faded, washed-out, grey early morning light, when Kurt could see the lines of Blaine’s jaw and the sweat shining on his chest picked out in perfect definition by the sunbeams slanting through the gaps between the curtains, the whirr of the air conditioning starting to cool the house before the spring warmth crept in. He didn’t want to look at Kurt in perfect light, showing the weight gain and the pale stretch marks beginning to sketch in at his hips and thighs and across his stomach, he thought Kurt was ugly and undesirable.

A soft knock came at the door, and Kurt wiped his eyes quickly and pulled his jeans back on, wincing at how obviously the waistband cut into his bulging stomach, and called out, “Come in!” The door squeaked on its hinges as it slid open and Kurt jumped at the sudden explosion of yelling from downstairs, clearly a woman and a man. Probably Puck and Quinn over their history yet again. 

Blaine crept in, crossing the room and taking Kurt’s tear-stained face in his hands, bending down to kiss the stray tear left clinging to his cheek, a single opalescent droplet. “Baby, I’m so sorry,” he whispered, sitting down beside Kurt, cupping a hand over his belly. “We heard Sebastian insulting you like that, and it was awful, I’m sorry about it. Quinn’s yelling at him right now, she’s really protective over you. You’re her new chick to mother hen over.”

“Is it all true?” Kurt asked softly, inching away from Blaine, pulling his hand away from where it exaggerated the bulge of his stomach over his waistband. “What he says, is it true? Do you think I’m pathetic and ugly and unattractive?” When Blaine drew his lip between his teeth and his eyes flickered away from Kurt’s, he burst instantly into tears. “You do! You think I’m ugly and you’re going to leave me because I’m fat and sad and pathetic and I’m out for your money and I deliberately got pregnant so I could get it!”

“Kurt, stop crying!” Blaine snapped, grabbing his hands to still him. “I don’t think any of that. I think you’re sweet and smart and beautiful and sexy and happy and fun to have around, and you getting pregnant was an accident and you’re not after my money.” He smiled softly and pressed his lips briefly against Kurt’s forehead before murmuring, “My getting you pregnant was an accident, but not one I consider a mistake, baby.” Blaine’s eyes sparkled at Kurt, and he smiled back, leaning into Blaine’s open arms and the warmth of his chest through his shirt, curling up into him and softly kissing the skin of his chest bared by his undone buttons.

“I got you something,” Blaine murmured, ghosting his lips across the shell of Kurt’s ear. “Close your eyes and count to five.” Kurt arched a sceptical eyebrow at him, but Blaine pouted and Kurt decided to humour him, covering his eyes and counting in an exaggerated way from zero to five Mississippis.

He opened his eyes at the twitter of a bird, and his jaw dropped around a joyful gasp when he saw Blaine grinning at him, a cage balanced on his knees with a bright yellow canary chirping inside, hopping on its perch and admiring itself in the little mirror attached to the bars. “You got me a bird?!” he gasped, resisting the urge to throw himself at Blaine.

“His name is Pavarotti,” Blaine said, whistling at the bird and making Kurt giggle and glow when the bird mimicked him. “I got him for you because I worry about you getting lonely when you’re stuck in here, kept in secret, and we’re all working. Apparently he keeps very respectable sleeping hours, so he shouldn’t keep you awake.”

Kurt giggled and smiled and wrapped an arm around Blaine as best he could, kissing his cheek and laying his head on Blaine’s shoulder, smiling sweetly down at the bird between them, imagining a time when it would be their son or daughter in Blaine’s lap.

All was calm and bright and bliss until the door flew open, cracking against the wall, and Sebastian was framed in the doorway, yelling at Blaine with his eyes flashing and furious scarlet patching his face. “You know what, Blaine, I don’t know why you like him so much when he’s a manipulative little bitch who drags you into sex in the kitchen just because he sees me in the doorway and gets irrationally jealous!” he screamed, and Kurt went cold all over. Pavarotti even stopped chirping.

“Kurt.” He looked up slowly, chewing on his lip, to meet Blaine’s eyes, full of disbelief and disappointment. “Is this true? Did we only have sex in the kitchen because you saw Sebastian and got jealous?”

“Blaine, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to, I just get freaked out by the idea of you and him!” Kurt insisted, tears coming to his eyes once more as Blaine turned away.

“I think you need to move out of this room and into the spare next door.”

And Kurt curled up alone in a double bed fifteen minutes later, with far too much space and Pavarotti quiet in his cage of the nightstand, crying softly and curling his hands into the duvet, already missing the warmth and comfort of Blaine’s body snug against his.