"How'd your dad take it?" Kurt asked hesitantly as he walked hand in hand with his boyfriend down the halls of McKinley high school.

"He took it pretty well, actually," Blaine said, rubbing one hand absentmindedly across his stomach, "Turns out carrying runs in our family. One of my uncles delivered his own baby through in vitro. Dad was a little freaked out at first, but he didn't kick me out or anything. He says we'll figure something out."

"Will we figure something out?" Kurt asked hopefully. Ever since he'd heard that Blaine was pregnant, he'd been waiting for his boyfriend to figure things out. He wanted to be good for Blaine, supportive, letting him make his own decisions. But at the same time, it was so hard, not knowing whether this baby would really be his.

Blaine stopped in the middle of the hallway and turned to him, taking his hands, "Of course we will. I love you, and I love this baby. We'll find some way to be a family, Kurt. I promise." Blaine gave Kurt a quick peck on the cheek, and headed off to calculus, Kurt staring after him.

"He shouldn't leave you like that. Isn't he worried that someone will steal the baby?"

"What was that, Boo?" Kurt asked absentmindedly, still watching as his boyfriend disappeared down the halls. He didn't know a pregnancy glow could be so beautiful.

"I made you a shirt," Brittany said.

"What was that?" Blaine finally disappeared, pushing Kurt back into the real world. He looked at Brittany, who was proudly holding a plain white t-shirt that said "Likes to Bake" across the chest in black lettering.

"Likes to Bake?" Kurt read, shooting Brittany a confused look.

"Yeah," Brittany shrugged, "Because you have a bun in the oven. Everyone in Glee club was talking about it."

"Glee Club knows?" Kurt winced. He wasn't sure Blaine was ready for everyone to know about this.

"Yeah, totally," Brittany beamed, handing him the shirt, "But it's cool. A lot of gay kids like to bake, right? I made you this shirt because I didn't want you to be embarrassed. Also, Lord Tubbington kept eating the letters from last time."

Kurt looked over the shirt, touched. He could tell that Santana had helped because the words were spelled correctly, "Thanks, Britt," He said, before frowning. The t-shirt was a small; there was no way it would cover his boyfriend's shoulders now, much less when he started showing. "Brittany, wait, this isn't the right size-" But when he looked up, Brittany was gone.