When Kurt and Blaine went out for a Saturday night of dancing at their favorite club, they had no idea they’d be coming home with a baby.

The club was tamer than the ones they’d frequented in their early twenties, but still fun and energetic, with a young crowd that kept them feeling comfortable at age twenty-six. They were friendly with the manager, who let Blaine sing a song or two during the DJ’s breaks sometimes. But tonight there was live music, a band from Chicago they’d never heard of before but immediately took a liking to when they heard the beat echoing through the door and onto the street outside.

They presented their ID’s, put on neon wristbands, and headed to the dance floor immediately. It was Kurt who first recognized the familiar smile of one of the band’s backup dancers. “Blaine! Is that Brittany?”

It was unmistakably her, once they moved close enough to get a good look. She was as energetic and precise in her movements as ever, completely unimpeded by her extremely pregnant belly.

“Should she be dancing like that, when she’s pregnant?” Blaine asked.

“How should I know?” Kurt asked. “Did you know she was pregnant?”

“Nope, haven’t talked to her in years.”

“Me neither.”

They positioned themselves by the stairs to the stage and caught her attention as the band was leaving for a break. “Kurt! Blaine! It’s so great to see you again! Let’s catch up, can you wait for me after the club closes tonight?”

They said they would, and then somehow ended up on the subway back to their apartment with Brittany at two in the morning. “The bed in my hotel room is uncomfortable, do you guys have a guest room I could use?” she’d asked, and it had all seemed quite logical, plenty of time to catch up and talk together.

“So, when are you due?” Blaine asked her on the train.

Brittany looked confused. “I don’t know what time the train lands. Shouldn’t you know? Don’t you take this train all the time?”

“I meant the baby,” Blaine said.

“What baby?” Brittany asked.

Blaine was flabbergasted. “The baby,” he said, gesturing at the very large bump under her dress. “You’re pregnant, aren’t you?”

“I haven’t seen any storks around, have you?” Brittany asked. “But I guess that would explain why people keep congratulating me all the time. I thought it was just because I was having a lot of good hair days.”

Kurt recovered first, remembering that Brittany had always had problems with even the most basic sex ed concepts. “Britt, honey, I think you should get seen by a doctor as soon as possible. I think you’re definitely pregnant.”

“I don’t see how that’s possible, but if you say so I guess I could make a doctor appointment when I get back to Chicago,” Brittany said. She grunted suddenly. “Sorry, just a back spasm. I hope I didn’t pull something while I was dancing tonight.”

“Do you know who the father might be?” Kurt asked, as gently as he could. “Do you have a boyfriend? Or a husband?”

Brittany shook her head. “I’ve been dating a lot of guys, and girls too.” Her eyes widened. “Do you think the father could be another girl?”

“I doubt it,” Blaine said.

“Too bad,” Brittany said. “I didn’t really like any of the guys I’ve dated lately.”

The train jerked to a halt. “This is our stop,” Kurt said. He stood up and offered Brittany his arm.

“You’re so sweet, Kurt,” Brittany said, cuddling up against his side as they stepped onto the platform.

It was a short walk to their apartment building, only a block. Kurt and Blaine waved at the night doorman as they entered. “Congratulations!” he called to Brittany.

“Thanks!” Brittany said, flashing him a huge smile. “See what I mean?” she said, turning back to her friends. “He totally thinks my hair is awesome. Wow! I’ve never seen this many buttons on an elevator before!”

They lived on the thirty-seventh floor. Brittany counted each number out loud as it flashed on the overhead display, Blaine gritting his teeth with each one. “Thirty-three, thirty-four, thirt—why are we stopping?” The elevator ground to a halt, bouncing slightly, and the overhead display went blank.

“Ugh, not again,” Kurt said. “They said they fixed it!” He pressed the emergency call button. “Hi, the elevator stopped at the thirty-fourth … AHHH!!! OH MY GOD WHY ARE MY FEET WET?”

There was a large puddle of water around Brittany’s feet, slowly sleeping toward the corners of the elevator. Her dress was dripping, completely soaked below the waist.

“WE ARE IN HERE WITH A PREGNANT WOMAN AND HER WATER JUST BROKE!” Kurt screamed into the speaker.

“Okay, sir, I am calling the paramedics and the elevator repair service right now.”

Brittany was bent over at the waist, moaning. Blaine was holding her arm. “Britt, I think you should sit down. Can you sit down? I know the floor is wet, but your dress is all soaked anyway, so I don’t think it makes much difference and you’d be more comfortable. I think. Don’t you think?”

Kurt took two deep breaths, trying not to hyperventilate, as Blaine coaxed Brittany into sitting down on the floor. He decided it would be bad form to mention how much his shoes and pants, now covered in amniotic fluid, had cost. “This is not happening,” he said, rocking slightly back and forth on the balls of his feet. “This is not supposed to happen in real life. This only happens in bad movies, and my life is not a bad movie, it is a good movie with a happy ending, and this is not happening to me.”

“It’s going to be okay,” Blaine said. “It takes a long time for a baby to come. Hours and hours, usually. They’ll have us out of this elevator way before anything happens. Trust me, I know about these things, my dad is a doctor.”

“Your dad is a cardiologist,” Kurt said.

“Which is a kind of doctor,” Blaine insisted.

“I have a strong urge to push,” Brittany said, her voice surprisingly calm.

“That means the baby is almost out,” Blaine said. “If you feel an urge to push, you should do it. It can be dangerous not to.”

“I thought you said it would take hours!” Kurt shouted. “That was not hours! That was like two minutes!”

“It usually does, but sometimes not,” Blaine said apologetically.

Brittany made a loud grunting noise, her muscles straining.

“Oh… you should probably take off your underwear,” Blaine told her.

“I thought you were gay, Blaine Warbler. Why are you trying to get into my pants?”

“So the baby doesn’t get trapped in them,” Blaine said, trying not to roll his eyes.

“Oh, okay.” Brittany wiggled out of her underwear and then leaned back, propping her upper body on her elbows. She groaned, pushing again.

“Oh my god, I can see its head,” Kurt said, on the verge of panic. “There should not be a head in that location, I am sorry.”

“Kurt!” Blaine admonished. He knelt down between Brittany’s legs. “Okay, one more push, ready?”

“Gaaaaaahhhhhhh!!!!!” Brittany screamed, and a tiny, slippery baby suddenly popped into Blaine’s hands.

Blaine stared at the baby in his arms, his eyes wide. “This is the most amazing thing ever in the entire world,” he said.

Kurt gawked, his eyes bugging out of his head. “That is a baby,” he said to nobody in particular. “That is a little tiny baby, and it is right here and it was not here five seconds ago, oh my god.”

Brittany stared up at the three of them from the floor. “Is it over?” she asked, panting.

The elevator doors slowly pushed open, inch by inch. A woman in an EMT uniform stepped inside and gently took the baby from Blaine, inspecting it carefully as it let out a shrill cry. Another woman tended to Brittany on the floor. A strong man dressed in firefighting garb guided a stunned Kurt and Blaine out of the elevator so the paramedics would have more space.

“He looks perfectly healthy, but we’d like to take mom and baby to the hospital for some routine tests, just in case,” the EMT holding the baby said. “Which one of you is the father?”

“They both are,” Brittany said.