This is actually kind of fluffy! Lawd Jesus help me.
For the ever lovely dapperdick, of course, who requested emotional and possessive MPREG revelation. :)
The minute he notices, he calls the doctor—who asks him to please stop talking so quickly because he can’t understand a word that Blaine is saying. He takes a deep breath and paces in front of the mirror, shirt lifted, running his fingers frantically over the faint bulge low on his belly.
The science of this is so new that they just couldn’t be sure until now. He’s been hiding it for weeks, unwilling to tell Kurt because—they’ve been on the list for so long, then had tried to conceive for so long, that he just needs to be absolutely fucking sure.
The doctor tells him to come down for a test that afternoon, and he somehow manages to get there and back before Kurt comes home from work. It’s a close thing; he’s just catching his breath and frantically reading over the rest results (prescriptions flapping all over the table as he sets it down) when the door to the apartment slides open and Kurt comes in smelling like New York City air and his cologne.
"I have a subway story, want to hear?" he asks, crossing over to the kitchen. He puts a hand on Blaine’s back and leans around to kiss his cheek. "There’s no vomit or exposure in this one, you’ll like it." He sits, grabbing a banana from the bowl in the middle of the table. "Honey?"
Blaine stares at him, and his eyes fill with tears. He’d wanted to frame the announcement in some planned, crafted way, but Kurt had come home on time, which almost never happens. He swallows thickly. The hormones they’ve been giving him have made him prone to jogs of tears, so it’s not unusual and Kurt doesn’t immediately react.
"C-come here, okay?"
Kurt, banana abandoned, slides to his knees next to Blaine. “Are you okay? Do I need to call the doctor?” He settles one hand on Blaine’s lower back and the other on his knee.
Blaine sniffles and wipes at his cheeks, laughing from the depths of his chest. “I, uh, I already went to the doctor’s today.”
Kurt’s eyes flare with panic. “Oh my god, Blaine, tell me right now.”
He reaches down and takes Kurt’s hand and brings it underneath his shirt, pressing it to the slight rounded spot on his belly. Kurt’s eyes never leave his; at the feel of that, they go wide and Kurt inhales as if he’s been punched and his eyes fill with tears.
"Oh my god. Oh my god. Oh—oh—Bl—oh my god." And he breaks down and cries like a damned newborn, twisting his fingers in Blaine’s shirt and dropping his head to Blaine’s thigh.
"Oh don’t—if you cry I’ll cry and it’ll never stop," Blaine says, gasping, and who is he kidding? He’s already crying.
And Kurt just keeps repeating the same phrase, “Oh my god” over and over as he cries against Blaine’s knee, and then his torso as he angles up between Blaine’s knees to hug him around the waist. He presses his cheek to the bulge, then hastily shoves Blaine’s shirt up to drop kisses all over it. “Oh my god.” He snuffles loudly. “Is it—why didn’t you call me? Was everything okay, was it—what did the doctor say?”
"I wanted to be sure, Kurt," Blaine breathes, threading his fingers through Kurt’s hair, wiping at the tears on his face. "The doctor said everything looks great. All the hormone levels are good and the implant is perfectly intact. He says I’m fine to come back in a month for another check-up."
Kurt is trembling. He presses his face to the bulge again. “Hi little person,” he whispers to it, rubbing his nose against it.
Blaine chokes on a sob. “Kurt. Kurt.”
"I love you," Kurt says, voice still breaking as he clutches Blaine’s waist. "I love you so much."
"Can we—lie down maybe, I’m kind of—dizzy?"
"Oh god, yes," Kurt says and bolts up like a flash, and—before Blaine can say anything he’s being picked up and carried.
"Oh my god you don’t have to do that."
"Shut up. You will be carried everywhere from now on. I am your slave."
Blaine pouts. “You weren’t already?”
Kurt deposits him on the bed. “There was room for further enslavement.”
"You are insane."
"Pillows. More pillows."
And suddenly there are pillows everywhere.
"Okay, okay, I am—good. This is good, come here?"
Kurt crawls into Blaine’s arms and squeezes around him so tightly that there’s no room for breathing. Blaine doesn’t really mind.
"I don’t know what to say," Kurt whispers, kissing along Blaine’s jaw gently. "I’m—so happy, Blaine, I just can’t even process anything more articulate than that, I just—can’t wait to be a daddy with you, do you know? Is that selfish? I just—can’t right now. You are—everything to me, and getting to do this with you, creating something new and wonderful, it’s so much. This kid is going to be so loved, Blaine, I swear—"
"Kurt," Blaine whispers, cupping his face. "Shh. Me too. I know, all of that, it’s—exactly how I feel, too. I can’t wait, baby, I just can’t wait, I never thought this would ever be possible."
Shaking, Kurt pulls Blaine against him and slides a leg between his. He gently tugs the t-shirt off of Blaine’s torso and wriggles down, kissing his way to Blaine’s belly. “My amazing husband,” he whispers, kissing the rounded curve. “Our amazing baby. D’you know what that means, Blaine, mine forever, mine to love and cherish and take care of, do you have any idea how—” He breaks off, inhaling deeply.
"I do," Blaine replies shakily, and—something about all this is making him unbearably turned on (goddamn hormones), Kurt saying these things, even Kurt’s tears falling on his skin.
"Oh god, let me—starting right now, okay, gonna take care of you, don’t even move—" He surges up and takes Blaine’s face in his hands, kissing him, and it’s full of tears and snot but Blaine isn’t going to stop him—he’s so hungry all of the sudden, to be touched, to feel the literal expression of Kurt’s feelings against his skin.
"Please," he begs, still crying a little. "Please touch me."
"Always," Kurt breathes, fingers firm and sure as they caress the curve of his belly and then find him hard and hot in his boxers. "Always, always, Blaine, mine, all mine to love for always, you know that, you have to know—"
Blaine gasps, hips twitching forward. He whimpers, pressing close, so close, not wanting an inch of space between them; their legs tangled, their chests together, his face against Kurt’s face. “Harder, please, please—need to—”
Kurt works him through a slow buildup despite his urgency, and when he finally comes between their bodies it’s as if everything he’d been holding in all afternoon comes rushing out with his orgasm. He trembles and Kurt is there every moment, cleaning him off and then holding him until they are both cried out and exhausted.
"Love you," Kurt murmurs.
"I love you, too," Blaine replies.
Kurt falls asleep in his arms and he tugs the blankets over them and lets sleep join them.
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