FIC: Hiccup
Title: Hiccup
Pairing: Klaine
Word Count: ~2300
Includes: mpreg, zombies, redneck assholes
Summary: There’s a bit of a hiccup on the road to the checkpoint in Buffalo.
AN: About halfway through my paper… more or less. Stopped to reenergize and get the writing going again. I don't know that you'll get another part this weekend. We'll see how it goes. It's only 2pm and I feel like it's 8pm.
Hopefully it's apparent how this is leading into "Contraception." One more part before we're caught up to that point.
The road so far...
The Conception of Hope -> Human Kindness -> No Home Left to Run From -> Chasing Ghosts -> Water Break -> Unsafe -> Only Us -> Meanwhile, Back at the Shelter -> Consumerism is Dead -> Camping -> Night Terrors -> No Use for Wind Chimes in the Land of the Dead -> Meanwhile, Back at the Refugee Center
Blaine laughed and petted Kurt’s hair.
“It isn’t funny!” But there was laughter in Kurt’s voice, too.
Blaine reached over and held his hand, while Kurt stroked his belly to calm the baby a little. Blaine could see the jerk in his belly every few minutes. At first, Kurt had seemed nervous, until they realized that the baby just had the hiccups. Uncomfortable for Kurt, but probably not an issue for the baby at all. They seemed to come at some point every day, lately. If they were lucky, it wasn’t when Kurt was trying to get some much needed sleep. Being on the road constantly like this was sort of a drain.
“I don’t know what he’s trying to punish me for. I haven’t even made him wear any embarrassing outfits yet.” Kurt pushed his hair back. It was getting long again. Kurt was doing a better job of keeping Blaine’s curls under control, but Blaine thought he would have to either get out the scissors that evening or find Kurt some barrettes.
“She can’t help it. I’m sure if she knew it was uncomfortable for you, she’d try to stop.”
“I don’t know if I could give that level of sentience to a born child, let alone one in utero, but sure. We have a genius baby.”
Blaine laughed again. “We might.”
“Maybe. Oh. She quit.” Kurt sighed in relief and patted his belly as he leaned back. “Wonder how long this is going to last.”
“Probably until you try to take a nap.”
“Yeah. I bet.” Kurt smiled crookedly and looked down at his belly with that warm, fond expression that spoke so much without ever saying a word. Blaine had a front row seat to watch Kurt fall in love with their baby, and he was glad for that. So few comforts existed in their world, and Kurt had fewer and fewer. It seemed their little family was it.
There was a loud noise, almost like a gunshot, and suddenly Blaine lost control of the car. He pressed on the brakes and rapidly tried to turned the wheel in the other direction. They spun in a full circle twice before the car stopped, and Blaine tensed up, grateful that the car hadn’t flipped, but on alert for whatever had caused that.
“Sounded lik our tires,” Kurt said after a second.
Blaine looked at Kurt, who would probably know better than most what was going on with the car, and touched his face gently. “You okay?”
“Feel fine.” Kurt bent over and grabbed his crossbow. Then he froze, looking over Blaine’s shoulder.
Blaine started to reach for his weapons, but Kurt said through clenched teeth, “Don’t move!”
“Walkers?” he asked quietly.
Kurt’s lips pinched together, and he swallowed. “People.”
It wasn’t long before the two of them were being pulled out of the car, more roughly than Blaine was comfortable with anyone handling his pregnant boyfriend, and guns were shoved in their faces. The air bit cruelly into their cheeks, and Kurt shivered.
“Please,” Blaine managed.
An average sized man with a mermaid tattoo on his arm shoved his gun against Blaine’s nose. “Sorry, kid. Should’ve been smarter. It takes a lot to survive, these days.”
“Angus!” One of the others called. He was younger, a teenager with a scar stretching over his jaw and cheek, and had started going through he bags. He looked up and held up the bottle of Kurt’s prenatal vitamins. “There’s a buncha little clothes, too... other stuff...”
The men looked at Kurt sharply, and a taller man, with rectangular glasses and his hair pulled back in a ponytail came over to them. He raked his eyes up and down Kurt. Kurt, with his too long hair, delicate face, and the vulnerable and obvious baby bump peeking out from under his cardigan and the maternity blouse underneath.
“Should’a kept them legs closed, little girl. Especially out here. This ain’t a world to be getting all domestic in.” He looked to the young man rifling through their things. “Take everything.”
“Please. You can’t-” Blaine begged.
“This gun says I can do what I want, kid.”
“How can you leave a pregnant girl to die? Doesn’t it bother you that you’re not human anymore?” Blaine spat at them.
The tall man fixed his gun on Blaine and Kurt let out a shriek, grabbing onto him desperately. “No! No, God, no! Don’t take him from me!”
For a moment, Blaine saw the man’s eyes soften. Then, he stepped forward and looked between the two of them.
“I could take more than I have. Meat’s scarce, y’know.”
“They don’t got no meat on them.” The teenage boy approached with one of the bags. “April could use the baby clothes and junk for her kid, but the vitamins and stuff, we don’t need it.”
“One of the women back at camp might,” another guy pointed out.
“Well, none of them’s gonna fit these skinny ass maternity clothes,” the boy replied. “Even if anyone is knocked up.”
Kurt let out a soft gasp and leaned against Blaine heavily. Blaine’s eyes widened, and he turned to Kurt, holding him up for a moment, then lowering to the ground with him and rubbing his back. They had to get away from these people and find a new set of supplies as soon as possible.
The tall one, probably Angus, pointed at the boy in the chest. “Do not spare the food or water for them. And take the weapons. And the coats. Aside from that, I don’t give a fuck.”
The men lifted the hood and started pulling parts off the car, taking them away to their trucks. The boy handed them their bag, and then ran off to help the others. Blaine kissed Kurt’s forehead and looked in the bag. Like the leader had indicated, the oil and their clothes were there, and Blaine’s old stuffed bunny, but nothing else.
“Are you okay? Does it hurt?”
“I’m okay.” Kurt’s face was white, and he still clung to Blaine tightly, like Angus might come back and shoot him.
“Can you stand? I don’t want-”
“We gotta get away from these crazy people. I know.” Kurt looked off to the side of the road. “Some woods that way?”
“It’s a start. Water first? Can’t let you get dehydrated.”
***
It became apparent, as they were bolting across the grass, that running while pregnant was probably something that Kurt would want to avoid at all costs, if they weren’t trying to get away from a herd of walkers.
A herd of them. There were so many of them up north right now.
One hand trying to hold his belly still and the other clinging to Blaine who was helping him as much as he was able, Kurt’s mind drifted back to that message they’d heard a week before, and wondered if it had been real, or if it had been a trap to lure saps their way with supplies.
It was only a cold comfort that his pregnancy was obvious enough that they let them go without eating them. As far as Kurt was concerned, there was no one human left, even among the living.
“There!” Blaine pointed.
“I dunno... about a... town,” Kurt huffed.
“Houses. Closed off spaces. It could work.” Blaine pulled him, and Kurt came along, mostly because he was sore and tired and thirsty and had to pee really, really badly.
Blaine stopped for a moment by a car, and Kurt’s heart jumped into his throat when more walkers started to rise from the streets.
“Blaine!”
Blaine wrapped his sleeve around his hand and slammed his fist through a car window. He pulled out a gun (and his bleeding hand) and pulled Kurt forward again, plugging walkers when they got too close.
When Kurt spotted the tornado shelter, it looked like it was too good to be true, but he pointed it out anyway, and they ran in that direction. Blaine tossed Kurt the gun and bent over to open the shelter up.
A walker rose from inside, and Kurt blew it away. Blaine grabbed the corpse, tossed it out, and then motioned for Kurt to come with him.
Once inside, Blaine shut the hatch tightly and muttered to himself, “Can’t grip that well. Strong door... Should be... should be for a little while...”
Then he kicked a row of boxes and let out an uncharacteristic string of profanity. Kurt set the gun down and slowly lowered himself onto a cot. The sides of his belly ached, as did his back, and his head, and his feet, and he rubbed his belly and his temple, trying to let his mind catch up to their situation now and what they could do.
Blaine continued to rage. He was... He was not Blaine in that moment. Kurt had never seen him so angry at anyone as he was at those assholes who had stolen their things and left them by the road. Kurt tried to rise so he could comfort Blaine, but it hurt, so he thought better of it, and stayed as still as he could.
***
When Blaine had spent his temper, he stood by the hatch with his fists closed for a good five minutes. He didn’t know what to do, or where to go next. Every time they created a little security for themselves, no matter how meager, someone or something came to take it away. He heard a soft, tired sigh, and then he was back to himself. His brows tented, and he looked over to where Kurt was sitting quietly.
“Oh, Kurt. Honey. I’m sorry.”
“Come here,” Kurt ordered in a gentle voice.
“There’s no supplies here,” Blaine muttered. “We need water. And food especially, and-”
“Come here,” Kurt said again, reaching out his hand.
Blaine obeyed and sat by Kurt, who was still very pale, and now frowning a little, his jaw stiff. “Are you hurt? Is it too cold?”
Kurt said nothing, but put his arms around Blaine and pulled him closer until he gave in and put his head against Kurt’s shoulder. He touched Kurt’s belly with both hands and sobbed.
“I can’t protect you.”
“We’re alive and safe for now. You are protecting us. We just have to roll with it, baby. We don’t have any choices. We haven’t, not since the first day this happened. No room for mistakes, because then we’d be dead.” Kurt’s lips moved tenderly over Blaine’s temple and forehead. “I love you. This wasn’t your fault.”
“Well. This.” Blaine rubbed his thumbs up and down the curve of Kurt’s belly. “Maybe a little.”
“Takes two to tango on a salad box.” Kurt rested his head against Blaine’s and sighed heavily.
“I think you don’t feel so good.”
“Maybe I need to lie down,” Kurt admitted. “And I have to pee again. There’s no little boy’s room in here.”
Blaine straightened up and pushed Kurt’s hair back over his ear, looking him in the eyes. There were shadows forming under them, a weariness that Blaine had no power to ease, but God, Kurt still looked so beautiful that it hurt.
Taking his hand, Blaine first kissed Kurt, then helped him onto his side in the cot and stroked his hair. Kurt bowed his head, laughing softly.
“What is it?”
“She has the hiccups. See? The moment I lay down.”
Blaine felt the rest of his rage draining from his body, and he walked over to the piles of boxes, looked through them a moment, then brought an empty jar over so that Kurt could relieve himself. When he’d set the jar in the corner, Blaine sat on the floor next to Kurt, letting his fingertips move over his belly.
“Rest. They’ll wander off by morning, and we can start looking for supplies again.”
Kurt nodded. He closed his eyes and a tear trickled down his cheek. Blaine kissed it away and put his arms around Kurt’s shoulders, returning the comfort he’d just been given and trying to share some warmth.
“We just have to stick together.” He shook his head. “I’m starting to understand. When you told Carol and the douchebags that you could handle walkers better than people. I’m starting to feel that way, too.”
“I wish you didn’t have to. It was easier when one of us could be the anti-social hardass, and the other one could be the generous-hearted tie to humanity.”
“We would never do something like they did,” Blaine said. “We never would. Not even if it meant we went without.”
“You wouldn’t kill someone right now to get supplies for me and the baby?”
“I would.” Blaine’s words only surprised him a little. “If I had to. But I wouldn’t leave them helpless. They took our weapons. And our coats. That’s inexcusable. It’s cold out there, and getting colder!”
“I don’t disagree.” Kurt nuzzled into Blaine’s arms.
Blaine kissed his head and started to sing, quietly. There were walkers out there and more than ever, he just wanted to tear into every one of them, blowing them to pieces with the shotgun, smashing in their rotting skulls. But in here, he had his family, and he needed to care for them, more than he needed to go out there and sate his anger on the dead.
Next part: The Fight to Remain
Pairing: Klaine
Word Count: ~2300
Includes: mpreg, zombies, redneck assholes
Summary: There’s a bit of a hiccup on the road to the checkpoint in Buffalo.
AN: About halfway through my paper… more or less. Stopped to reenergize and get the writing going again. I don't know that you'll get another part this weekend. We'll see how it goes. It's only 2pm and I feel like it's 8pm.
Hopefully it's apparent how this is leading into "Contraception." One more part before we're caught up to that point.
The road so far...
The Conception of Hope -> Human Kindness -> No Home Left to Run From -> Chasing Ghosts -> Water Break -> Unsafe -> Only Us -> Meanwhile, Back at the Shelter -> Consumerism is Dead -> Camping -> Night Terrors -> No Use for Wind Chimes in the Land of the Dead -> Meanwhile, Back at the Refugee Center
Blaine laughed and petted Kurt’s hair.
“It isn’t funny!” But there was laughter in Kurt’s voice, too.
Blaine reached over and held his hand, while Kurt stroked his belly to calm the baby a little. Blaine could see the jerk in his belly every few minutes. At first, Kurt had seemed nervous, until they realized that the baby just had the hiccups. Uncomfortable for Kurt, but probably not an issue for the baby at all. They seemed to come at some point every day, lately. If they were lucky, it wasn’t when Kurt was trying to get some much needed sleep. Being on the road constantly like this was sort of a drain.
“I don’t know what he’s trying to punish me for. I haven’t even made him wear any embarrassing outfits yet.” Kurt pushed his hair back. It was getting long again. Kurt was doing a better job of keeping Blaine’s curls under control, but Blaine thought he would have to either get out the scissors that evening or find Kurt some barrettes.
“She can’t help it. I’m sure if she knew it was uncomfortable for you, she’d try to stop.”
“I don’t know if I could give that level of sentience to a born child, let alone one in utero, but sure. We have a genius baby.”
Blaine laughed again. “We might.”
“Maybe. Oh. She quit.” Kurt sighed in relief and patted his belly as he leaned back. “Wonder how long this is going to last.”
“Probably until you try to take a nap.”
“Yeah. I bet.” Kurt smiled crookedly and looked down at his belly with that warm, fond expression that spoke so much without ever saying a word. Blaine had a front row seat to watch Kurt fall in love with their baby, and he was glad for that. So few comforts existed in their world, and Kurt had fewer and fewer. It seemed their little family was it.
There was a loud noise, almost like a gunshot, and suddenly Blaine lost control of the car. He pressed on the brakes and rapidly tried to turned the wheel in the other direction. They spun in a full circle twice before the car stopped, and Blaine tensed up, grateful that the car hadn’t flipped, but on alert for whatever had caused that.
“Sounded lik our tires,” Kurt said after a second.
Blaine looked at Kurt, who would probably know better than most what was going on with the car, and touched his face gently. “You okay?”
“Feel fine.” Kurt bent over and grabbed his crossbow. Then he froze, looking over Blaine’s shoulder.
Blaine started to reach for his weapons, but Kurt said through clenched teeth, “Don’t move!”
“Walkers?” he asked quietly.
Kurt’s lips pinched together, and he swallowed. “People.”
It wasn’t long before the two of them were being pulled out of the car, more roughly than Blaine was comfortable with anyone handling his pregnant boyfriend, and guns were shoved in their faces. The air bit cruelly into their cheeks, and Kurt shivered.
“Please,” Blaine managed.
An average sized man with a mermaid tattoo on his arm shoved his gun against Blaine’s nose. “Sorry, kid. Should’ve been smarter. It takes a lot to survive, these days.”
“Angus!” One of the others called. He was younger, a teenager with a scar stretching over his jaw and cheek, and had started going through he bags. He looked up and held up the bottle of Kurt’s prenatal vitamins. “There’s a buncha little clothes, too... other stuff...”
The men looked at Kurt sharply, and a taller man, with rectangular glasses and his hair pulled back in a ponytail came over to them. He raked his eyes up and down Kurt. Kurt, with his too long hair, delicate face, and the vulnerable and obvious baby bump peeking out from under his cardigan and the maternity blouse underneath.
“Should’a kept them legs closed, little girl. Especially out here. This ain’t a world to be getting all domestic in.” He looked to the young man rifling through their things. “Take everything.”
“Please. You can’t-” Blaine begged.
“This gun says I can do what I want, kid.”
“How can you leave a pregnant girl to die? Doesn’t it bother you that you’re not human anymore?” Blaine spat at them.
The tall man fixed his gun on Blaine and Kurt let out a shriek, grabbing onto him desperately. “No! No, God, no! Don’t take him from me!”
For a moment, Blaine saw the man’s eyes soften. Then, he stepped forward and looked between the two of them.
“I could take more than I have. Meat’s scarce, y’know.”
“They don’t got no meat on them.” The teenage boy approached with one of the bags. “April could use the baby clothes and junk for her kid, but the vitamins and stuff, we don’t need it.”
“One of the women back at camp might,” another guy pointed out.
“Well, none of them’s gonna fit these skinny ass maternity clothes,” the boy replied. “Even if anyone is knocked up.”
Kurt let out a soft gasp and leaned against Blaine heavily. Blaine’s eyes widened, and he turned to Kurt, holding him up for a moment, then lowering to the ground with him and rubbing his back. They had to get away from these people and find a new set of supplies as soon as possible.
The tall one, probably Angus, pointed at the boy in the chest. “Do not spare the food or water for them. And take the weapons. And the coats. Aside from that, I don’t give a fuck.”
The men lifted the hood and started pulling parts off the car, taking them away to their trucks. The boy handed them their bag, and then ran off to help the others. Blaine kissed Kurt’s forehead and looked in the bag. Like the leader had indicated, the oil and their clothes were there, and Blaine’s old stuffed bunny, but nothing else.
“Are you okay? Does it hurt?”
“I’m okay.” Kurt’s face was white, and he still clung to Blaine tightly, like Angus might come back and shoot him.
“Can you stand? I don’t want-”
“We gotta get away from these crazy people. I know.” Kurt looked off to the side of the road. “Some woods that way?”
“It’s a start. Water first? Can’t let you get dehydrated.”
***
It became apparent, as they were bolting across the grass, that running while pregnant was probably something that Kurt would want to avoid at all costs, if they weren’t trying to get away from a herd of walkers.
A herd of them. There were so many of them up north right now.
One hand trying to hold his belly still and the other clinging to Blaine who was helping him as much as he was able, Kurt’s mind drifted back to that message they’d heard a week before, and wondered if it had been real, or if it had been a trap to lure saps their way with supplies.
It was only a cold comfort that his pregnancy was obvious enough that they let them go without eating them. As far as Kurt was concerned, there was no one human left, even among the living.
“There!” Blaine pointed.
“I dunno... about a... town,” Kurt huffed.
“Houses. Closed off spaces. It could work.” Blaine pulled him, and Kurt came along, mostly because he was sore and tired and thirsty and had to pee really, really badly.
Blaine stopped for a moment by a car, and Kurt’s heart jumped into his throat when more walkers started to rise from the streets.
“Blaine!”
Blaine wrapped his sleeve around his hand and slammed his fist through a car window. He pulled out a gun (and his bleeding hand) and pulled Kurt forward again, plugging walkers when they got too close.
When Kurt spotted the tornado shelter, it looked like it was too good to be true, but he pointed it out anyway, and they ran in that direction. Blaine tossed Kurt the gun and bent over to open the shelter up.
A walker rose from inside, and Kurt blew it away. Blaine grabbed the corpse, tossed it out, and then motioned for Kurt to come with him.
Once inside, Blaine shut the hatch tightly and muttered to himself, “Can’t grip that well. Strong door... Should be... should be for a little while...”
Then he kicked a row of boxes and let out an uncharacteristic string of profanity. Kurt set the gun down and slowly lowered himself onto a cot. The sides of his belly ached, as did his back, and his head, and his feet, and he rubbed his belly and his temple, trying to let his mind catch up to their situation now and what they could do.
Blaine continued to rage. He was... He was not Blaine in that moment. Kurt had never seen him so angry at anyone as he was at those assholes who had stolen their things and left them by the road. Kurt tried to rise so he could comfort Blaine, but it hurt, so he thought better of it, and stayed as still as he could.
***
When Blaine had spent his temper, he stood by the hatch with his fists closed for a good five minutes. He didn’t know what to do, or where to go next. Every time they created a little security for themselves, no matter how meager, someone or something came to take it away. He heard a soft, tired sigh, and then he was back to himself. His brows tented, and he looked over to where Kurt was sitting quietly.
“Oh, Kurt. Honey. I’m sorry.”
“Come here,” Kurt ordered in a gentle voice.
“There’s no supplies here,” Blaine muttered. “We need water. And food especially, and-”
“Come here,” Kurt said again, reaching out his hand.
Blaine obeyed and sat by Kurt, who was still very pale, and now frowning a little, his jaw stiff. “Are you hurt? Is it too cold?”
Kurt said nothing, but put his arms around Blaine and pulled him closer until he gave in and put his head against Kurt’s shoulder. He touched Kurt’s belly with both hands and sobbed.
“I can’t protect you.”
“We’re alive and safe for now. You are protecting us. We just have to roll with it, baby. We don’t have any choices. We haven’t, not since the first day this happened. No room for mistakes, because then we’d be dead.” Kurt’s lips moved tenderly over Blaine’s temple and forehead. “I love you. This wasn’t your fault.”
“Well. This.” Blaine rubbed his thumbs up and down the curve of Kurt’s belly. “Maybe a little.”
“Takes two to tango on a salad box.” Kurt rested his head against Blaine’s and sighed heavily.
“I think you don’t feel so good.”
“Maybe I need to lie down,” Kurt admitted. “And I have to pee again. There’s no little boy’s room in here.”
Blaine straightened up and pushed Kurt’s hair back over his ear, looking him in the eyes. There were shadows forming under them, a weariness that Blaine had no power to ease, but God, Kurt still looked so beautiful that it hurt.
Taking his hand, Blaine first kissed Kurt, then helped him onto his side in the cot and stroked his hair. Kurt bowed his head, laughing softly.
“What is it?”
“She has the hiccups. See? The moment I lay down.”
Blaine felt the rest of his rage draining from his body, and he walked over to the piles of boxes, looked through them a moment, then brought an empty jar over so that Kurt could relieve himself. When he’d set the jar in the corner, Blaine sat on the floor next to Kurt, letting his fingertips move over his belly.
“Rest. They’ll wander off by morning, and we can start looking for supplies again.”
Kurt nodded. He closed his eyes and a tear trickled down his cheek. Blaine kissed it away and put his arms around Kurt’s shoulders, returning the comfort he’d just been given and trying to share some warmth.
“We just have to stick together.” He shook his head. “I’m starting to understand. When you told Carol and the douchebags that you could handle walkers better than people. I’m starting to feel that way, too.”
“I wish you didn’t have to. It was easier when one of us could be the anti-social hardass, and the other one could be the generous-hearted tie to humanity.”
“We would never do something like they did,” Blaine said. “We never would. Not even if it meant we went without.”
“You wouldn’t kill someone right now to get supplies for me and the baby?”
“I would.” Blaine’s words only surprised him a little. “If I had to. But I wouldn’t leave them helpless. They took our weapons. And our coats. That’s inexcusable. It’s cold out there, and getting colder!”
“I don’t disagree.” Kurt nuzzled into Blaine’s arms.
Blaine kissed his head and started to sing, quietly. There were walkers out there and more than ever, he just wanted to tear into every one of them, blowing them to pieces with the shotgun, smashing in their rotting skulls. But in here, he had his family, and he needed to care for them, more than he needed to go out there and sate his anger on the dead.
Next part: The Fight to Remain