Chapter Text
PROMPT I: McHart AU, Diane is pregnant
PART I, CHAPTER I: SLEEPLESS
“Kurt,” she says as she curls her hand around his bare bicep, gently shaking his body in an attempt to rouse him. “Kurt,” she says again, this time a little louder.
He let’s out a groan of a sigh as he rolls from his stomach to his back, rubbing a hand over his eyes. He had just begun to enter into sleep, a great feat with her endless tossing and turning by his side. “What is it?” he asks, voice hazy.
“I-” she begins to tell him, but her voice catches like his hands on her silk stockings. She swallows hard before trying again, this time successfully. “I’m late.”
His eyes are immediately drawn to his alarm clock glowing dimly in the dark room and he opens and closes them, adjusting his vision until he’s able to make out that the short hand is pointed just past the twelve. What on earth could she be late for at this hour? “Diane,” he begins with a slight edge. “What are you-”
“My period, Kurt,” she clarifies before he has the chance to finish his question. “My period is late.” He hears a certain rawness in her words, and once he sits up, switches on his lamp, and turns to his wife, he sees it reflected plainly in her features, too—her brow creased, her eyes a little darker.
He knows that now is not the time to maintain his stoic silence, that she is searching for reassurance. But before he can gather his thoughts and form his words, she slips into a rant.
She usually gets it on Sunday mornings, she explains, and so when she hadn’t gotten it earlier in the day day, alarm bells went off… and when she then thought about it further, it occurred to her that, as a matter of fact, it should have been the Sunday prior. “I can’t imagine it’s anything but a false alarm—I wasn’t even going to tell you until I took a test, but…” She trails off, lips parted as she watches her husband throw back the heavy covers and rise from their bed, crossing the room. “What are you doing?”
Diane blinks, caught off guard by the high-pitched panic she hears in her own voice and by the sudden tightness in her chest and the lump in her throat as she watches the physical distance between them grow at this moment.
He seems to hear it too as, after pulling a t-shirt and a pair of jeans out of his dresser, he turns back to her, makes eye contact as he assures, “Just getting dressed so I can go out and get a test.”
“Oh,” she says, releasing a deep breath, breathing a little easier but still far from being at ease. One concern settled, another building… while yet another continues to linger heavily. “You want to do that tonight?”
Kurt inclines his head as he pulls on his worn jeans and begins to fasten them. “You think either of us will get any sleep if we don’t?”
She remains silent. His point is valid, but there was a reason she hadn’t taken one earlier today: she wasn’t ready.
They had talked about starting a family, of course, and while they hadn’t decided to actively pursue it, they had decidedly kept their options open. Before marrying, he had offered to see to things himself, on his end, had she not wished to. But she had, and, along with it, had tacitly agreed to carry their child—provided it was safe to do so—should she ever become pregnant. Six months into their reconciliation with their marriage stronger than ever, the timing was admittedly ideal. Still, there was an enormous step between keeping a door open to a possibility and walking through that door, entering into a new life.
While he does not understand all that is going through her mind at this time, he must see something in her eyes—the uncertainty, in particular. Once his t-shirt is on he rounds the bed and sits beside her, facing toward her though avoiding her gaze.
“Do you…” A beat as he steels himself for her potential answer. “not want this, Diane?”
She clears her throat and his breathing grows heavier, though his face remains impassive. “It’s not that,” she tells him, reaching for his hand and pulling it to her lap over the duvet to hold between both palms, taking her time to gather her words because she wants to get this right. “It’s not,” she repeats, adamantly, as she fights to keep her emotions in check despite the overwhelming feeling that continues to build within. “But this would change our life, Kurt, completely and entirely—our life that I truly love.” It is not perfect, it is not the life that she once envisioned for herself as a small child playing with her dolls, nor is it the life her parents had imagined for her—but it is a good and fulfilling life. Her work gives her purpose, her husband both fills and envelopes her with love, and she is happy.
“Of course,” she concedes, “that’s not to say that I couldn’t—that I wouldn’t—love another life, too, because if there’s anyone I’ve ever wanted to change my life with, to create and raise a human being with, it’s you.” He finally meets her eyes then and gives her a gentle smile—the feeling is mutual.
Neither had ever truly considered the possibility of becoming a parent before they became a unit, before finding the person that made them a better person and complemented them perfectly, that they knew could makeup for any of their shortfalls in childrearing and in life.
“But we would be giving up a great deal… and gaining a great deal too, I know, but that doesn’t mean that the momentous change in our life wouldn't be challenging to cope with all the same.”
Kurt nods, reaching up to wipe away the tears that have collected in the corner of her left eye. “I understand that, I do,” he tells her gently, and it’s the truth—he feels it, too… though, admittedly, perhaps not to the same extent. “But waiting isn’t going to change the result.”
“I know,” she says in a light sob, half laughing, half crying.
“And right now you’ve got…” He pulls a face. “Schrodinger’s baby.”
At that, Diane more laughs than cries.
“You may not be pregnant, but you’re not not pregnant, either. …Or, you are both pregnant and not pregnant?” He shakes his head, chestnut locks falling across his forehead as he pulls out of the analogy that’s getting too far off track. “The point is, wouldn’t it be better to know, either way? And if you are pregnant, we have time to talk, to plan, to make this transition as easy as possible.” He truly believes that finding out now is their best option, that it will bring them both some form of peace either way. But he also appreciates that her experience is and will be different than his own, that he is not, will not, cannot be as invested nor immersed as she, and he will leave this decision in her hands. “Look, if you really want to or need to wait, we will—”
“No,” she cuts him off, looking more sure of herself than she has since she woke him, “you’re right. Let’s take a test—let’s know.”
*
As Kurt steps out the front door of their townhouse, a gust of late September wind catches him, his body bracing itself on its own accord. He looks down the street to his left to see his truck, and though the shelter of the cab is enticing, so is the opportunity to move, to breathe in the invigorating brisk air, to be a part of the calm that comes over this part of the city at this time of night while his mind is anything but. The nearest drug store is less than a half mile away, and with parking it would take just about as long to drive as it would to walk. And so he descends the four front steps and turns right, making his way down the dimly lit sidewalk.
It is both his first and last chance to process this before all is altered… or isn’t, as the case may be. A baby, he thinks, the thought so strong that the words can be heard under his breath. And he, a father. There’s a thrill bubbling within him that he cannot quite master, his eyes crinkling and his lips curling as a result. He’s never felt the need to be a parent, but perhaps a want… a want that has only grown in recent years as he has built a life with his wife, as he has grown to love her more and more. He’s even been so bold, in quiet little moments, to let himself imagine what a life as a family of three might be, conjuring images of tossing the football with his son or daughter out back in the golden-lit field, of gathering around the dinner table, of days at the lake.
But he has always been a practical man, and as he walks along as he makes a conscious effort to not get caught up in the prospect of it all—certainly not yet. She may not be pregnant at all, and if she is, his wife is right—it would be a lot, would indeed permanently change the course of their life. A life that he, too, quite loves.
As he continues on towards his destination, he can’t help but consider other factors, as well. Could having less time and energy to commit to each other put a strain on their newly restored marriage? Could he grow to resent the lack of ability to come and go as he pleases? He physically tenses as he thinks of how the world they’d be bringing this child into is so dark and unkind today.
“You’re brooding,” he can practically hear his wife say. He stops, takes a deep breath of chilled air, exhales. Somehow they always manage to ground one another, even when the other is not there. That’s promising, he supposes. He hears his own earlier advise to his wife, too, that came from a clearer mind, from a place of reason—wait until they know—advice he knows he should heed.
Feeling more centered again, if not at ease, he pulls his jacket just a little tighter around him and proceeds towards the drug store, taking his steps just a little bit quicker.
*
The moment she hears the door latch, she regrets not going with him. The air is cold outside, but she swears she feels colder in here, sitting in bed, back against the headboard and knees pulled to her chest, left alone with her thoughts—her thoughts that continue to spiral as she considers, in greater detail, all that either must or will change should they receive a positive result in less than a half hour’s time, the sacrifices that will have to be made, all the ways in which she may screw this up… and God, she doesn’t want to screw this up.
She meant what she said—it’s not that she does not wish to have a child with this man that she loves with her whole heart. She has certainly given the possibility thought in the past, has kept this option open for a reason. In fact, she has given it enough thought to know that, should they have a child, should she become a mother, she wants to do it right. She wants to give herself to them entirely, to love them fully, to support them and to fulfill their every need. She wants that.
But how can she be that mother with her current life? And how can she say goodbye to this life without losing herself? …That’s the real fear.
Of course, if she has learned anything in recent years, it is the value of moderation. Perhaps… perhaps the sacrifices she anticipates could be modifications instead. Working nearly as many hours, but some from home. Keep their plans to travel, but simply with their child in tow. And he will help her with this, she knows, help her to find balance—he’s always been better at that than she.
It may not be possible to have her cake and eat it too, but perhaps she does not have to sacrifice all that is her life now—does not have to sacrifice who she is—either. And perhaps even the things she must sacrifice…
She closes her eyes and imagines holding a newborn in her arms in this very spot with husband by her side and feels a warmth spread within her.
…would still be worth it in the end.
*
“Two minutes,” she says tersely, brandishing her ticking time bomb of a phone as she exits their ensuite bathroom. She joins him on the bench seat at the foot of their bed and both are silent for the next 37 seconds—she knows because she watches her phone screen closely as the seconds pass, one millisecond at a time.
“Diane,” he finally says, his voice low, “if it’s positive—”
She takes a deep breath and turns to him before placing a hand to his cheek, effectively silencing him. “Then we’ll figure it out,” she finishes for him. And she’s almost beginning to believe it herself. Husband and wife share a gentle smile and she brings her forehead to rest against his cheekbone, taking solace in his tangible warmth, reverently embracing this potential last moment of a simpler time.
Any worries that he himself had spun during his walk seem to subside too, all suddenly seeming manageable with her by his side. He wraps his arm around his wife’s waist and turns his head just enough to place a kiss at her temple. “Love you,” he mumbles into her hair.
“I love you, too.”
*
The alarm sounds and she retrieves the stick from the bathroom, and when she reemerges, he’s standing at attention. She comes to stand before him and after one final nod of assurance, she lifts her hand from her side and reveals the results in the space between them.
Diane’s breath get’s caught for just a moment as she exhales. Kurt clears his throat.
Negative. Not pregnant.
“Well,” she says quietly after a long moment of silence has passed. “I suppose that settles that.” She looks up to her husband and her lips quirk in some form of a smile, but it is momentary and does not reach her eyes. Kurt gives her a singular nod in response.
*
Earlier, Kurt had suggested that neither would get any sleep that night if they were left without answers. He was probably right, too. But their answer doesn’t bring them sleep, either. Instead, they lie awake in each other’s arms into the wee hours of the morning.