January 20th, 2033


Tina can't get comfortable on Blaine and Kurt's couch. She can't get the pillows arranged right, can't find a position that relieves the pain in her back. She gets shooting pains down her leg, bad enough to make her gasp. She shifts again, tries to concentrate on the movie she and Blaine are watching. It doesn't hold her interest. She shifts again.

“Eena, what can I do?” Blaine asks quietly. “Kurt's bringing lunch soon, but do you need anything else?”

She sighs. Tim had left this morning, bringing Grace to their friend's place upstate. Their friends were supposed to pick her up yesterday, to bring her home with them as a special treat so no one had to worry about getting her there when Tina's labour began in earnest. Grace adored her “aunt and uncle” – and the animals on their small farm. 4:00 yesterday afternoon, though, a phone call alerted them to that fact that their friend's car had been totaled in a freak barnyard accident that had left both Tina and Tim laughing.

“I mean, how do you run over a car with a tractor?” Blaine hadn't been able to stop laughing, either, when Tina told him over the phone last night.

“Well, first, you let the wrong person drive the tractor and second, technically, it wasn't run over. It was run INTO by the tractor. The hay forks went straight through both the driver's side windows. There's no way they can come get Grace, so Timmy's running up there with her in the morning. Which means he's asked me to ask you if I can come hang out with you tomorrow while he's gone. He should be back late afternoon.”

“Of course, honey, of course! Kurt has to work in the morning, but I'll be home all day. We can bake. I'm working my way through that baking cookbook Finn sent me.”

“I don't bake, Anderson. Ever. But I will be happy to sample and critique anything you'd like to feed me.”

“Cupcakes? Bread? Brioche? Cookies? Anything sound good” Tina swore that Blaine's smiles were audible.

“Whatever you want, B, whatever you want. Although the baby seems to like the idea of bread, judging by the kick I just took to the kidneys.”

“Sorry, sweetie. Did I mention I was a soccer player when I was younger?”

“Ohhhh,” Tina said drily, “NOW you tell me.”


The next day...

“What position did you play?” Tina asks.

Blaine, intent on the movie, looks at her, confused. “Position?”

“Soccer. You've been telling me for months you were a soccer player, and now your child is kicking the the hell out of my uterus, so I'm wondering if you were one of those goalies that punts the ball halfway down the field, or one of those fast kicky-kicky guys who just dribbles it around the field in little short bursts..” She arches her back, attempting to ease the strain on her lower back.

“Sorry, T.” He wrinkled one side of his face up in apology. “I was mostly a striker.”

“Striker?”

“Umm, one of the kicky kicky guys. If it helps, I was always very fast.”

“Yeah. So's your kid.” She gives up, swings her legs up into Blaine's lap, leaning back against the arm of the chair. “Rub my feet?”

“Always.” Blaine digs his thumb into Tina's arch, as she lets out a loud moan of pleasure.

Blaine starts to giggle, massaging rhythmically as Tina smirks back, then picks up the rhythm with her moans. She winks. “Gotta give your upstairs neighbor a show. They're gonna wonder what the hell you're up to.”

Blaine snorts. “They're a million years old, and you're going to give the poor old man a heart attack. I just get this creepy feeling he's listening whenever Kurt and I....” he shakes his head, squicking up his nose. “You can usually hear them walking around, moving things around, but then all the sounds from their apartment stop, like they've sat down somewhere until we're done.”

“OHHHH, OHHHHHHHHHH! BLAAAAAAINE!” She shrieks dramatically, then sighs loudly.

“That didn't last very long. They're going to think I'm not very good.”

“We'll do round two when you do my left foot. They'll be impressed at your quick turnaround time.”

Blaine can't help but laugh out loud. “Seriously, though, Eena, what else can I do?”

“Well, you can keep rubbing that spot right there for the rest of my life, because oh god that's good. ….and you can shove another pillow behind my back – apparently, I'm lying too flat.”

“Too flat?”

“If I lie on my back, the weight of the baby presses against my --- umm, what the hell is it called? – the artery that returns blood from my lower body to my heart and slows it down. And I kind of start to black out.”

“TINA! OH MY GOD! SIT UP RIGHT NOW!” Blaine is half-laughing in horror, pulling her up by her arms to shove pillows behind her.

“Blainey, chill. You must chill. It's not like an instantaneous thing. As the baby's gotten bigger, I have to be more and more propped up if I'm on my back. I start to see my pupils pulsing with my pulse and feel like I can't breathe. So, I roll over to my side, and everything's completely fine again. It's just sometimes that being on my side isn't comfortable either.”

“Eena, that's terrible! Oh god! What else is going wrong?”

“It's not wrong, Blainers. It's very common. Nothing to worry about. Really.”

Blaine looks down at her feet in his hands, ankles swollen, looking so puffy and uncomfortable. She's practically writhing in hopes that somehow she can be less in pain. He feels guilty. This is his kid – their kid – his kid that's causing this.

He can't deny that there's a part of him – a small but insinuating vocal part – that thinks it's damn cool that this baby is his. He means, of course, it's his and Kurt's and Tina's, of course it is, but, still. It's part of his body that's growing in there. Part of him caused this, and he's both exceedingly apologetic and exceedingly proud at the same time.

Kurt had brought it up first, in one of the strangest foreplay moments of their lives – and they'd had quite a few of those. Under the influence of too much wine with dinner one night, lying on the couch, pinned under Kurt's weight, tangling their legs and tongues together, Kurt had begun to tell his husband some of the things about Blaine that turned him on.

                                        ************

Kurt, already naked, was simultaneously trying to lie on his husband while rolling just slightly enough to get his hands down said husband's trousers. While Blaine had been busy choosing a DVD and getting That second bottle of wine – a lovely '86 Cotes du Rhone – had loosened his thoughts, loosened his tongue, loosened everything it seemed, except his husband's pants.

“And you're just so muscular, Blaine,” Kurt gasped into Blaine's mouth, struggling to keep his balance on the couch, hands working below. “So muscular and hairy and...it's just really fucking hot, Blaine.”

“Being hairy is hot?” Blaine had one arm wrapped around Kurt's waist, keeping him on the couch, one hand pressed down between them, rocking against Kurt, trying not to get in his husband's way as he struggled with the buttons on his fly.

“Right now, yes,” Kurt's heavily-lidded eyes raked his face. “I know, most of the time, I pitch a fit about grooming, but this little bit of scruff you've got right now? It's really fucking hot.”

“Really fucking hot?” Blaine chuckled. He wasn't sure if he'd had more or less wine than Kurt, but he finds Kurt's so funny when he's been drinking and he gets repetitive. Kurt is always wonderful, always, but this loose and goofy Kurt makes a different part of his heart happy.

“Soooo fucking hot. Oh, fuck it. I'm going to tear it if I keep trying like this,” Kurt gave up on the buttons, and settled for just straddling Blaine, rolling their hips together, making them both gasp at the contact.

Kurt's hands, now free to roam, pulled roughly at the hem of Blaine's shirt, pulling it up, ghosting his palms up, following the dark hair up the center of his stomach to spread them out over his chest. His fingers dug sharply into Blaine's chest muscles, and Blaine sucked in a sharp breath. He rocked Kurt forward towards his stomach so he could lift his hips to shimmy out of his pants.

“Just so.....so virile.”

“Kurt,” Blaine ceased his mouthing at Kurt's neck to chuckle “did you just say 'virile'?”

“I did. You're virile.” He was gripping fiercely at Blaine's arms, rocking faster. “And I'm might be horrified I said this tomorrow, but I'm going to say it anyway because I've been drinking. I think it's really fucking hot that you got Tina pregnant.”

Blaine threw his head back and barked a laugh. “OH MY GOD, KURT! Tell me you're not getting off on the thought of my best friend's pregnancy – our SURROGATE's pregnancy. The pregnancy that will result in our future child.”

“No, of course not! But, the fact YOU got Tina –

“Kurt! I DID NOT get Tina pregnant. The bio-technicians at the fertility clinic got Tina pregnant. I just provided the sperm.”

“Ohhhh, baby” Kurt moaned and circled his hips. “Tell me more about it."

“Oh, my god, stop it! You are sooo drunk!” Blaine burst into giggles.

“And you are sooo fucking hot!” Kurt giggled back.
Blaine took over circling his hips, gripping Kurt's hips tightly, holding him firmly down against his own, earning a gasp from Kurt. “And no, I will not tell you more about it AGAIN, because, again, it was probably the single-most un-sexy thing I've ever had to do, so, no. Maybe later, but certainly not now.”

“It's just so.....primal. I know that ---oh christ – most theories on biological imperatives are – JESUS! Oh just like that – can be heteronormative, at best, and I certainly don't think that everyone just wants to procreate or that we're even – hey now, not so rough there – even supposed to be but – oh don't stop don't stop – right now I just find it –"

Blaine released Kurt's neck where he'd been sucking to supply “So fucking hot?”

“Yes, so fucking hot that – oh god, baby – there's tangible evidence of your virility.”

“Virility? Really, Kurt?”

“Yes, virility. The act of being virile.” Kurt ducked his head to kiss Blaine's lips. “It's potent. It's primal. It's masculine. I just really love the fact you're a man. Because I like men. And -- oh ohhhhhhh -- And sometimes I love just the caveman aspect of you. With the hair and the scruff and the --- It's just really fucking hot.”

“Yes, we've established it's so fucking hot.” Blaine paused in his motions, looking thoughtful. “So, you're aroused, not by our pregnant surrogate, but by the fact that you're seeing tangible proof – however tenuous the connection between the actual me and the whole “getting her pregnant” thing – and by the way, I somehow feel there might be something offensive somewhere in this whole theory – but what gets you hard is seeing the tangible proof of my...what was it? Primal masculinity?”

“Yes.”

“All right, then,” He wrapped one arm around Kurt's shoulders and the other around his hips, and rolled them off the couch. He pinned Kurt's wrists to the floor, crouching over him. Licking and biting his way up Kurt's chest deliberately, his movements became sinuous and pantherlike. Kurt swore his eyes actually began to glow like a panther.


“You want primal masculinity?" Blaine fastened his teeth lightly on the side of Kurt's jaw and growled in his ear “On your knees, Hummel. I'll give you proof.”

Kurt's blue eyes were searing. He licked his lips, gave a quick full-body shimmy before flipping over, drawing his knees and hands underneath him, pushing himself against Blaine's body poised above him. As Blaine's teeth fastened on the back of his neck, he shuddered with pleasure, slanting his eyes back over his shoulder at Blaine. “Soooo fucking hot.”