Sugar Baby

Fifteen

Looking at Kurt, curled into his side with his head leaning on Blaine's shoulder, face smooth and innocent and shining with new rays of hope as he gazed at Blaine with his pleading eyes, deep blue and wide and a little knowingly seductive when he looked up from beneath his lashes, Blaine wanted to say so much, words stuck like glass in his throat, tongue working inside his mouth, with no way of knowing how to verbalise everything he wanted to tell him, all the thoughts that had spun through his mind from the moment he'd awoken to the bed cold and empty next to him the day before, and no sign of Kurt anywhere in the house no matter how many times he'd called his name, or asked Sam and Sebastian if they'd seen him. He couldn't find the words to describe the dread that had pooled thick and icy in the pit of his stomach when he couldn't find him; the terror that he'd wandered away and been snatched up by some pervert on the street; or been run over and left for dead in the gutter; or even just decided that he didn't want to be a part of Blaine's life anymore and walked away, taking his memory with him.

"Before we talk, please will you kiss me?" Kurt asked softly, tilting his head up, lips brushing as light as a butterfly's wing against his chin. "Please," he repeated, eyes wide and innocent. Blaine leant down for a soft meeting of their mouths, his fingers curling into the curve of Kurt's hips, Kurt's hands cupping his face and sliding up into his hair, wrapping themselves greedily through his wild curls.

Kurt let out a protesting murmur when Blaine broke this kiss, clinging closer for a second before Blaine detached him gently and shifted away to the end of the sofa, stretching his legs out and lowering his head to look seriously at Kurt. "I haven't been a good friend to you, or a good lover, and I'm so sorry," he said solemnly. "Being around Sebastian brings out the worst in me, it always has. When I'm with you, I'm happy and I can be sweet to you and not just want to have sex but really talk through things and cuddle with you and touch your stomach and kiss without it leading up to anything, but when I'm with him I'm a different person. I'm belligerent and irritable and I say things that I don't mean to say, all because he gets under my skin in a way that no one else does and I hate it, I hate how it makes me treat you because I shouldn't be cruel to you like I have been. You're special and sweet and gentle and so good to me, and you're having my baby and that means the world. I want you safe and happy, and I want you with me."

"Those are two different things, Blaine," Kurt said, looking up at Blaine and sending guilt clenching around his heart when he saw the tears in Kurt's eyes. "Of course I care about you and I want you to be happy, but I'm not happy in that house. Quinn and Brittany are amazing, Jeff is sweet, Santana and Puck are a little abrasive but they have their hearts in the right places and Sam has been incredibly nice considering how much you're risking having me here, but Sebastian is awful. He treats me like dirt, he has no qualms about making it obvious that he still wants you in front of me and I can't shake the feeling that he can do so much worse, and I can't help but think that you still want him."

"I don't, I promise you, I don't still want Sebastian," Blaine said, shuffling closer and taking Kurt's hands, squeezing as he gazed deep into his eyes. "It's only you, Kurt, you're so beautiful and sexy and sweet and giving and I don't know how you think I could want anyone else when I have you in my arms."

"You said his name in bed!" Kurt sobbed out, snatching his hands from Blaine's grip and burying his face in his hands. "You asked me to do something you liked for you and I didn't want to but I tried anyway because I want to make you feel as good as you always do for me so I was waking you up by rimming you and you groaned his name instead of mine! So I ran off, I took Pavarotti and I ran away because you don't care about me, you were obviously dreaming about him when I was in bed with you. You don't care!" Blaine looked at Kurt helplessly as he curled in on himself and sobbed, broken sounds that wracked his whole body with shudders, tears scarring long shining lines into his cheeks.

"Kurt, I'm so sorry, I didn't know, but I'm sorry," Blaine said seriously, leaning close and pulling a handkerchief from his top pocket to wipe Kurt's tears away. "Sebastian doesn't mean anything to me. I'm sorry for my subconscious, but I just can't control what or who I dream about. When I'm awake, the only person I care about is you. But does Sebastian affect you so much that you don't want to stay in the house with me?"

"No, I really don't, please don't get mad at me," Kurt pleaded, dabbing at his eyes with soft choked sobs. "Sebastian is horrible and it's not just affecting you, it's affecting me and us and our relationship and the baby, I can't be there, at least not until I'm over twelve weeks, the stress is making me worry about miscarriage so much, and that makes it worse. I'll stay here, Quinn offered me a room and she knows about pregnancy and where I can go for help." Blaine nodded understandingly, and Kurt's arms rose up and wrapped tight around his neck, pressing their bodies close and warm and so deliciously intimate, his head buried in the crook of Blaine's neck, and Blaine held him close, wondering how on earth he could ever have considered going back to Sebastian when he had something so precious in his arms, tears slicking his skin, fingers digging desperately into his back and the slight curve of his bump pressing against Blaine's abdomen, reminding him of the beautiful reason he's found himself in so deep with Kurt.

Kurt kissed his neck slowly, licking away the traces of salty tears, lips leaving a slow trail from Blaine's shoulder, up beneath his jaw and over his cheek, giving him a quick yet intense kiss before pulling back and whispering, "Make love to me." He kissed Blaine again, pulling him closer, laying down and settling Blaine between his spread legs. "Please."

"I don't know if I should, with the baby and everything," Blaine said softly, backing off and pushing Kurt down again when he tried to chase his lips. "And I have something else I want you to do. I want you to...to stop calling me Daddy in bed."

Jerking away, Kurt started shaking his head frantically. "You can't make me stop, I like it," he said, voice higher than usual and petulant, almost childish. "I can barely remember my own dad and Paul Karofsky left barely a year after they adopted me, I haven't had an older man to take care of me for so long and now you're here and you can't make me stop calling you that." He pulled his knees up to his chest and glared at Blaine. "I don't want to have sex with you. Go away, you with your making me hope and taking it all away."

"I want it because we're equals, outside the bedroom and in it, and I don't like you making yourself seem like a child when you're an adult and you're mature beyond your years," Blaine said, reaching out to caress Kurt's cheek but resigning himself when Kurt stood up and walked away. "Okay, I'll call you tonight. Promise you'll contact me when it's time for your first ultrasound?" Kurt nodded reluctantly and Blaine walked up behind him to kiss the top of his head before he left.

While he stood outside, awaiting the arrival of Joe with the car, his phone began to ring and he lifted it to his ear with a cheerful, "Hello?"

"You tell that freak you're dating to stay away from you, or he'll be losing a baby at some point in the near future." The call ended with a click from the other end of the line and Blaine stood, frozen in shock, with the phone still held to his ear and the dial tone drilling through his mind.

Someone had called him, on his private number, not through Sam, his representation, but on his private cell, to threaten Kurt. Someone knew about Kurt, and wanted to hurt him and ultimately kill the baby. Blaine looked up at the window of Quinn's apartment, just able to make out the silhouette of Kurt's form moving beyond the glass. He knew Kurt wouldn't listen to him if he went back, and leaving him alone for a while could only help him.

So he walked away, hands shoved deep in his pockets, and he didn't see the figure in the shadows of the building, or hear the dusty footsteps creeping up the stairs, or the scream from the apartment on the fifth floor.