Blaine spent a lot of time in the warehouse, training for his fight two weeks away. Kurt often went with him, watching as he punched a body bag or trained with the speed bag. He would sit at the edge of the ring, chatting with the old man that was Blaine's trainer, Pete. He learned that Pete was the man that trained Blaine's brother, Cooper, when he used to box.

Blaine was fast. He wasn't overly muscled, but beautifully toned with lightning quick reflexes. Kurt did notice that his curls would sometimes drop into his face, temporarily blinding him in practice. After a training session one day, he offered to trim Blaine's hair.

“Really, you know how to cut hair?” Blaine asked, a smile on his face.

“Sure, I used to do my dad's,” Kurt answered as they walked back to the cabin. He felt a tiny scream in the back of his throat thinking about his dad, he missed him and worried about him constantly.

Blaine had to borrow a pair of scissors from Shannon, but that was soon remedied and they were back at the cabin and Blaine had removed his shirt. He was tight in every muscle, looking apprehensive when he glanced at the scissors in Kurt's hand.

“Just relax, I'm not going to castrate you, just trim your hair a bit so you don't miss his fist flying at you,” Kurt admonished. He ran a warm hand under Blaine's jaw to comfort him. It was just a reflex, not any sort of seduction, and Blaine grinned.

Kurt got some water in his hand, dampening Blaine's curls and ran a comb through the silky locks. He used his other hand to smooth the hair in between each stroke with the comb, and Blaine sighed. The small sound went curling down Kurt's ear and nestled in his chest for a moment before sense swept it right back out again. This was just to help Blaine, not meant to be foreplay...but in Kurt's heart of hearts - it felt like it. Kurt cut his hair and Blaine rushed over to look in the small shaving mirror over the water basin.

“Thanks, Kurt,” Blaine grinned, swishing his head back and forth to test whether the bothersome curls would stay in place. They did. Kurt smiled, thinking how beautiful his friend was, with his dark, silky curls and those golden blazing hazel eyes. He got a little lost in thinking about Blaine and had to shake his head to bring himself back to reality.

“You're welcome. Should we walk the trap line this morning?” Kurt asked, not because he had a burning desire to set snares, but because he liked being alone with Blaine so they could talk. And hold hands, he liked holding Blaine's hand.

Walking through the camp, they ran across a man trying to start a piece of machinery. It made a sound like it was wanting to start, but every time it failed. The guy driving it looked more than a little frustrated, brushing his hands through his copper red hair as he held his hardhat in his hand, stamping one foot and kicking a rock.

Looking up, he waved at Blaine, smiling as he walked over from his place by the big machine. His grimace turned into a grin as he neared the boys.

“You gonna win on Saturday night, kid?” he asked, patting Blaine on the back.

“Sure I am. Don't I always?” Blaine said, looking pleased the man noticed him. The man grinned even wider.

“Yeppers, you do. You're our very own champ, kid,” he said. “Who's this?” he asked, indicating Kurt.

“Just a new guy in camp,” Blaine said. “Kurt, meet August Waverly, he's the foreman on the west project with my brother, Cooper.”

The two shook hands.

“Are you having some problems with your, ah, truck?” Kurt asked.

“Feller buncher. It's used to gather the detached limbs on a downed tree. Yeah, she won't start. The mechanic is out at the far south end, so it will be days before he can get here to fix this. I don't have another one I can spare, so we need to readjust the schedule. The boss isn't gonna like it one bit,” August said.

“I can look at it,” Kurt offered. August and Blaine both looked at him.

“You know what you're doing, kid?” August asked.

“Yeah, I'll tell you if it's over my head,” Kurt assured him.

August led him to the machine and Kurt climbed up to look. He borrowed some tools from the camp shop and was up to his shoulders in a few minutes. He didn't take long, calling out orders to try to start it, turn a gear, rock it forward a few inches, and when he was done, the machine sputtered to life, getting stronger as the minutes ticked by. A cloud of dirty smoke belched out and the sound of the motor settled into a steady purr. August was grinning from ear to ear.

“Blaine, where'd you find this kid?” August asked.

“He fell out of the sky, I think he's an angel that lost his way.” Blaine said, and August gave him a funny, but indulgent look.

“Kurt, if you want some work, let me know. I'll hire you to be the in-camp mechanic if you want. Think about it and if you're interested, I'll be in camp Saturday night. It was good to meet you, kid,” he said, shaking Kurt's hand. He turned to Blaine.

“Cooper will be in camp Friday night. I gave him the weekend off to come see your fight,” August said, smiling when he saw how excited Blaine was. He waved goodbye, driving away on the feller buncher.

“Oh, it will be nice to meet your brother, Blaine. Is your dad coming, too?” Kurt asked.

“Probably. I hope so anyway,” Blaine had a far-away look in his eyes. He shook his head, returning to Kurt and the conversation.

“I wonder if anyone has gotten word to my dad that I'm safe,” Kurt mused, but Blaine was in his own little world and didn't hear.

~*~*~*~*~*~*

Saturday arrived and with it a lot of men coming in from the outlying projects. It was payday and there was a prize fight that night, so the camp was crowded, the sounds of the men arguing the virtues of their favorite fighter floated over the camp. Blaine had been resting all morning, Kurt helping by massaging his back and arms, placing hot packs on his muscles. After which Blaine took an hour of light balance training with Pete, skipping rope and dancing around, moving his feet in lightning quick patterns. He ate just a little, and talked to Kurt as he waited for the fight time.

Kurt wondered why he hadn't yet met Cooper, but didn't want to say anything to take Blaine's concentration from the fight. He had seen his competition, a guy the same size as Blaine, but taller with longer arms. He knew enough about boxing to know that could make a difference, but Cookie had said that Blaine had a killer left jab and a more potent right cross. Plus, he was lighter on his feet than this guy.

The time finally came and he was sitting by Blaine's corner. His trainer came out with him. Pete got into the ring with him, bringing a stool for Blaine to sit on. They sat huddled, heads together as Pete gave Blaine last minute instructions. Kurt sat, nervous and chewing his fingernails, waiting for the bell to ring. Lumbermen came in and sat down, eager for the fight to start.

A man walked to the front, next to the ring and said something to Blaine, who brightened up and pointed to Kurt. As the man walked closer, Kurt's eyes were on him and he came to sit in the empty chair. He was tall with curly black hair, huge penetrating blue eyes, and dressed like the other men in blue jeans and plaid flannel shirt with a large knife in a sheath strapped to his waist. He was wearing a pea coat, gloves sticking out of the pocket, which he took off and slung over the back of the chair before sitting down. Pete looked over and nodded at the man, who winked back.

“Cooper?” Kurt asked, though it was patently obvious.

“Yeah, came to see my baby brother knock the shit out of this assclown,” Cooper said, sticking his hand out. Kurt took his hand in a warm clasp.

“Kurt,” Kurt said, smiling at the large man who looked so much like Blaine. The crowd was settling, so they sat down with the rest and turned their eyes to the ring. The announcer came to the center and the warehouse became silent.

“This is a Welterweight Match, Marquess of Queensbury rules. There will be twelve rounds, three minutes each with one minute between each round. Betting is closed. In this corner, we have at 144 pounds: Stan “Lucky” Von Stroh in the red trunks,” he waved at the blond man who had his gloves up waving at the crowd. “And in this corner at 145 pounds, Blaine Anderson in the gold trunks.” Blaine walked to the center of the ring and the crowd cheered.

Kurt couldn't hear what the referee was saying, it was loud and he had no microphone. The two fighters tapped gloves and stepped back. The bell rang.

Kurt had never actually seen a boxing match before. Although both fighters wore protective gear, it looked like each hit hurt a lot. As the two danced around each other, a gloved fist striking faster than a snake from time to time and Cooper saying things like “Upper cut” and “Right cross” so Kurt would know the names of the hits. All he could tell was that Blaine seemed to be making contact more often than Von Stroh, the other fighter, was. The bell rang and the contenders went to their corners, their trainers taking the mouthguards from them and squirting water into their open mouths, then catching it in a bucket when they spit it back out. Pete rubbed Blaine's back a little, patting him while he spoke into his ear, Blaine nodding as he spoke.

Cooper leaned towards Kurt. “How long have you known Blaine?”

“About a month, I think. He's letting me stay at his cabin – oh....he loaned me some of your clothes, I think. I hope that's okay?” Kurt asked.

Cooper laughed. “I outgrew those,” he indicated the shirt and jeans Kurt was wearing. “No problem, take whatever fits you.”

“Blaine has been really excited you were coming to see him fight,” Kurt ventured.

Coop smiled. “I never miss his fights. I always bet on him, keeps me in the money,” he grinned bigger. The warehouse was noisy and Kurt leaned forward to hear better, but could still hardly hear anything Cooper was saying.

The bell rang again and everyone's attention was back on the 24 square foot ring. The fight went on, round after round, some going to Blaine, fewer to Von Stroh. They were up to the eleventh round. Kurt and Cooper spoke a little to each other during the minutes between rounds.

Cookie leaned over to Shannon, “They look like two dogs, smelling each other's ass,” he laughed, nodding at Kurt and Cooper. Shannon giggled.

“Are you staying in camp for very long?” Kurt asked, wondering where they would all sleep in the cozy cabin. He would miss snuggling up to Blaine at night, but didn't want to be a wedge between the two brothers.

“Just a day or so,” Coop answered.

“Is your dad here to see Blaine, too?” Kurt asked, looking over his shoulder to see if he saw a man that had the Anderson silky curls.

Cooper just looked at Kurt, his eyes a bit wide. He shook his head and thought about what to say, but the bell rang for the eleventh round. Von Stroh came out of his corner and by this time both men were tired. They danced around each other, Blaine much lighter on his feet, but Von Stroh was the one with the heavier punch. He was trying to get a punch in but with Blaine's defense still strong he was having a lot of trouble landing anything. Blaine was much more tired than he had appeared and blinked his eyes once too often. Von Stroh landed a roundhouse on Blaine's face and blood flew everywhere. The referee watched for a brief moment and when it became clear that the blood running down Blaine's eye was obscuring his vision, he stopped the fight and sent both contenders to their respective corners.

Pete was ready, wiping the cut several times and applying styptic to stop the bleeding as Blaine closed his eyes in pain. He pasted a plaster over the cut and Blaine was ready to get back in the ring moments later. Coop looked concerned, but not upset and he glanced over at Kurt, who had tears in his eyes. That startled Coop and he surreptitiously took Kurt's hand and squeezed it for a second before letting it go. Kurt looked at him and he whispered, “He's fine, Kurt. Face cuts just bleed a lot.”

“Okay,” Kurt mumbled and drew closer to the large man's side, as if to shield himself behind Cooper's protection.

Blaine and Von Stroh were back in the center of the ring and the bell rang. They both danced by each other, bobbing and weaving to see what advantage they could take of the other. Blaine landed a few body shots, avoiding any strikes by the man in the red trunks. The bell rang for the end of that round and they went to their corners. Blaine looked so tired, Kurt was worried, but looking across at Von Stroh, he looked just as tired. It was good there was only one more round. Blaine turned his head after listening to Pete and took a swallow of water, spitting it into the bucket. Pete looked at the cut once more, removing the soaked plaster and adding another one.

Kurt and Cooper were watching Blaine as Coop leaned closer to Kurt. “He's up on points with the judges, seven rounds to four. He's got it unless Stan can knock him out in the final round.”

Kurt glanced at Coop, not sure what to ask, but Cooper seemed to know anyway. “Blaine has never been knocked out. It doesn't mean there isn't a first time, Stan is good. But I know my baby brother, and Pete is the best trainer around. Watch Blaine wipe the floor with the kid. I hope you bet on him?”

“Ah, no. I don't have any money to bet, I'm just here for moral support,” Kurt said.

The bell rang and the fighters were back, ready to get it on. They only circled, clinched together for a moment before the referee broke them apart. As Von Stroh stepped back, Blaine pulled back his arm and landed a right upper cut on his opponent's jaw and Stan's eyes rolled up and he hit the mat with a resounding crash. The ref put his arm out to stop Blaine and started the count. Blaine danced in place until the final slap to the canvas, the warehouse silent. With the final slap came a roar of the crowd and Von Stroh's coach was on the floor, picking his fighter up and washing his face with a cold cloth. He blinked awake and looked groggily around himself.

They went to their corners to await the judges. Blaine sat on the stool, drinking some of the water and moving his arms around. He tapped his feet and turned his face to Kurt and Coop, smiling. The ref was back, motioning the fighters into the center of the ring. He took each man by their wrist.

“The winner of this bout by knockout is Blaine Anderson!” and he raised Blaine's arm into the air. Blaine's face split into a grin and he pumped his fist into the air. He went directly to Von Stroh and held out his arms, gathering him into a hug and telling him it was a good fight, Stan saying the same thing. They touched gloves one last time and left to the dressing rooms at the back of the warehouse.

“Let's go, Kurt,” Cooper said, holding his hand out to guide Kurt out of the seats and into the dressing rooms. By the time they got there, Blaine was in the shower and Pete was grinning, hugging Cooper when he saw him enter the room.

“He's got it, Coop. He could go far with this, he's just like your dad used to be,” he grinned.

Used to be? Kurt wondered what he meant by that.

Blaine, now dressed in clean clothes and his wet hair freezing as they make their way across the camp to the mess hall, sits in the middle of a crowd of well-wishers. Kurt sat close to him as Cooper and the men around them buy him drink after drink. Blaine didn't drink all of them, just a sip or two of most and the bar tender is diluting them as well, knowing Blaine doesn't like to drink.

Cooper fields the crowd, making sure Blaine is protected from the angry men that lost because they bet on Von Stroh. After a long night of it, Coop slides Blaine out the back door, Kurt going along with the brothers.

They walked slowly across the camp, towards the cabin, stopping to look up at the stars or listen to a bird in the trees. Inside the tiny cabin, Coop draws the three chairs up to the edge of the fireplace and begins setting the fire to a roaring force so they can stay warm. Nights are getting colder and colder. Kurt goes over to the stove and gets the stew pot from the back of the stove where it has been simmering gently all day and stirs it, smelling the chunks of rich venison with the vegetables and potatoes. Cooper's mouth is watering as Kurt dishes out three helpings and they sit in front of the fire to talk over the fight.

'I thought you had him in the seventh round, Squirt!” Cooper enthuses, but Blaine shakes his head.

“No, I hit him but from where you were sitting, you couldn't see – he backed up enough that it was just a graze. Much as I hate to admit it, I wasn't even close. It was when he got me in the eleventh that I thought I was gone – he can dish out a lot of punishment if he's sober. I don't think he was drunk, or even close to it, but he's had one or two and it slowed his reaction time down,” Blaine explained. He looked over at Kurt, but Kurt wasn't saying anything. He hated the fights, hated boxing, and he was upset that Blaine had been hurt.

“Let me see that cut on your brow, Blaine. Do I need to make a poultice?” he asked, thinking of the poultices Blaine had made for him in the first days.

“I can get that going. Give me two shakes of a lamb's tail and I'll have it ready, baby brother,” Coop smiled. “I just need to run over to Shannon's and get a few things. Be right back..” he grinned at his brother and got his coat on, then was gone.

Kurt walked over to Blaine, looking closely at his head to determine how much damage has been done. Blaine moves his head away.

“No, Kurt. Let Coop take care of it. Just come here, okay?” he asked. Kurt came close and Blaine pulled him down to sit next to him on the chair. Kurt automatically put his arms around Blaine's shoulders and laid his head on the top of Blaine's head.

“I'm glad you're okay. I know you're good at what you do, that you are fast and accurate and strong. But I was worried about you today. Is that okay?”

“Yeah, Kurt. It's okay. It's good to know someone cares – someone who hasn't bet on me and therefore only cares if I win that is,” he laughed, but it wasn't funny. Kurt felt more like crying.

“Why doesn't Cooper fight any more?” he asked.

“He got hit too hard one night. It gave him an aneurysm. A very small one, but I begged him not to fight any more because one blow could blow that aneurysm and he would die. Plus, he doesn't need to fight any more, he makes good money as a lumberjack,” Blaine smiled. “Before he quit, there wasn't anyone in the whole company that could beat Cooper Anderson. He was a champion of the first order,” Blaine smiled, obviously proud of his big brother.

“Is that why you fight? For the money? Because you aren't a lumberjack? Blaine, you could go somewhere else, you know. You could go to school or do anything, you don't need to endanger your life by being here, by fighting,” Kurt grasped at straws, not liking the fact that Blaine put himself in such danger.

“What? Move to a city in Ohio where I can't even fish for trout for supper or keep my goats? No thank you. I don't want to live in a place where I can't take a lungful of air without coughing, where I can't shout up at the stars without somebody telling me to be quiet, without a way to get away from people whenever I want some privacy. I like it here just fine, Kurt.” Blaine patted Kurt's knee to calm him. He leaned forward and kissed Kurt's cheek, stroking his thumb across and smiling at Kurt. Kurt smiled back.

Cooper came back, not saying anything as he saw Kurt and Blaine sitting so closely on one chair, hands entwined. He set about boiling water to steep the herbs and placing straw in the little pan as he steeped the herbs for a while. He got a bottle of water from the cupboard and drank it down, got another and sat in the chair closest to the fireplace.

They sat in companionable silence, Blaine and Kurt had moved to the settee with a quilt wrapped around them. Sleep was beginning to take Blaine and he was finally lying down with his head in Kurt's lap – Kurt carding his fingers idly through the mop of curls. They talked about nothing really, just thoughts about life and how things might play out in the future. Coop said he thought Blaine probably made around $8,000 for the fight for his part of the tickets and the betting percentage. Blaine didn't get as much as some fighters because he stayed in his own camp. To make the big money you had to travel to other camps so the owners could promote you, but Blaine wouldn't do that. He said he didn't need that much money, and he liked to stay home. He fell asleep on Kurt's lap, the gentle stroking made him far too comfortable and his eyes closed and he was asleep. He snored a little, a snuffly noise like a small animal.

“So, I never did get an answer, Cooper, was your dad here tonight?” Kurt asked as directly as he could. He was tired of having people look at him in such a funny way when he mentioned Blaine's father.

“Is he here, looking over Blaine? Probably. I'd like to think so. But will he show up at the door and eat supper with us? No. He's dead,” Cooper said simply, looking right into Kurt's eyes as if he were challenging Kurt to argue.

Kurt's eyes got wide. “But...Blaine said...” he stopped, trying to think about exactly what Blaine had said about his father. Not much. “I must have misunderstood, I was under the impression that he was still in camp and Blaine saw him once a month or so. I'm deeply sorry for your loss, Cooper, and thankful for your understanding.”

“It's okay, Kurt. I know how Blaine talks about dad like he's still here. I don't know how much he told you – that our mother died giving birth to him, so Dad brought him here and we brought him up, just the two of us. I was twelve when he was born. Just about everyone here thinks about Blaine as his son or little brother. Dad died four years ago, and Blaine had a hard time getting over it. One of the shacks caught fire and the owner's daughter, Lenore, was in the shack. Dad went in and saved her, but a beam had caught fire and burned through. It fell and hit Dad as it fell, pinning him to the ground and broke his back. He burned to death before anyone could get him out from under the beam. Blaine still thinks he's coming home one day, even though he saw the body at the funeral. I guess we all just indulge him too much, but he was so devastated nobody knew what to do,” Cooper said, trying not to let the tears come again, trying to be strong so he wouldn't wake Blaine up to hear it again.

Kurt was blinking back tears of his own. He loved his father so much, and being kept from him was devastating, he couldn't imagine how hard it would be if his father was dead and there was no hope of ever seeing him again. He leaned forward a bit and took Cooper's hand, giving it a squeeze before returning to petting Blaine's curls. Coop cleared his throat and continued:

“I have to be gone about eighty percent of the time, and while Cookie and Shannon take care of him as well as they can, neither one is any spring chicken and they have their own jobs to do. That's why I was so happy to hear you were staying with him,” Coop said.

Kurt rubbed his hand slowly down Blaine's back, making small patterns. He was trying to process what was going on, feeling a little overwhelmed at this new information.

So, that's why the owner lets him stay – out of obligation to your father? He lets Blaine have the cabin. It doesn't seem like enough,” Kurt said.

“He gave us each a trust fund, but neither of us has touched it. I think Blaine blames him somehow. Maybe for not having all the safety things installed, like a fire extinguisher. That shack was old and should have been torn down, I'm still not sure why Lenore was in it that day. But Blaine stays here to be close to me, and because he doesn't know how else to live. This has been his whole life, Kurt. He'd die in a city, or at the very least, his soul would die. So, until I leave, Blaine will stay here. We try to look out for him, Cookie and Shannon make sure he has food, a lot of the men hunt and share with him, things like that. He seems happy, if a bit lonely,” Cooper lamented. “Until I heard you were here.”

“How did you know I was here?” he decided to ask.

“You can't keep anything private here. It was all over the far camps the day the company men threw you off the empty. Then the day Chase thought you were me, that was pretty clever of Blaine to tell him that. I don't know a lot about you, only that you had been thrown on the train in Ohio and woke up here in Oregon, and that my brother had taken you in. August did say as you were a good mechanic and he'd offered you a job. If you're as important to Blaine as it looks like you are...” Coop raised an eyebrow, stopping to allow Kurt to speak if he wanted to, to confirm or deny it. Kurt moved his head in a negative shake to indicate he didn't have anything to say and Coop went on, “I'm fine with you staying.”

“Thanks, Cooper,” Kurt told him. This wasn't an area he and Blaine had entered yet, and they were going to have to speak about it.

“We better wake sleeping beauty there and get into bed. Tomorrow's going to be a big day, and I need to take Blaine to get his fight money. It won't hurt to have more than one person along in case things get..ah...sticky,” Coop said, standing and starting to remove his clothes. Apparently it's an Anderson thing, just standing and removing all your clothes for bed, no matter who might be there. Kurt took off all of his and was washing at the basin in a few minutes. He got his pajamas on and came over to the settee where Blaine was draped across the seat and arms. He gently shook Blaine a few times, “Blaine, honey, need to wake up and get ready for bed, okay?” Kurt asked him. Coop rolled his eyes, not used to seeing anyone cater to his brother in this way.

Blaine opened his tired eyes and Kurt helped him to undress and wash before his brother came to look at the cut above his eyes. He washed it with warm water, then fixed the poultice over it, nudging Kurt to hold it on as Blaine began to doze off. Kurt held it there as long as possible, but the two of them were so tired, they kept blinking their eyes and yawning.

Coop helped Kurt get Blaine's layers of pajamas on and cranked the rope bed, then they got Blaine into the middle of the large bed for the night. Kurt, after worrying all day about it, just jumped in and curled around Blaine. He was almost asleep when Cooper climbed in the other side and they all fell asleep as soon as their heads hit the pillows.

Blaine started out being quiet, just lying peacefully, but the fight was still in his brain because he got more jittery and jumpy as the night progressed. He was sleeping peacefully one minute and twitching and wriggling the next. The unpleasant accident took place around two in the morning. Blaine was once more quite restless and Kurt had pulled him closer to calm him in his sleep just as Coop did the same thing, resulting in a tug-of-war – Blaine being the prize. Being startled, Blaine struck out, clocking Kurt right in the cheek.

“Yeeeooooouuuuuwww!” Kurt shrieked. He had been struck before, a lot of times by the bullies in his school, but being hit by a welter weight champ square on the cheekbone hurt. A lot. Cooper jumped to the rescue, grabbing Blaine's arms and holding him in a wrestling hold to keep him from following up with a right cross.

“Blaine!” Coop yelled, shaking his brother. Blaine woke up with a start and saw what he'd done to Kurt.

“Oh, my stars, Kurt!” he shrieked, gathering his friend close and trying to look a the damage. “Are you okay?”

Cooper, wide awake by this time, got out of bed to get the lamp and bring it closer.

“He jabbed you a good one, pal, it's a good thing he wasn't awake, it might have been worse,” Coop said, inspecting Kurt's cheekbone to see if it was broken. “Nope, not broken, you're lucky.”

“Hmmmm...I sure don't feel lucky,” Kurt said and Blaine cringed.

“I'm sorry, Kurt. I was having a dream – reliving the fight. I tend to do that the night after. I should have insisted that I sleep alone, this is all my fault,” he said, leaning over to place a gentle kiss on Kurt's other cheek. “Do you forgive me?” he asked, fluttering his eyes to keep from letting the tears come. He really felt terrible about it.

“Of course, I do. It wasn't your fault,” Kurt said, patting Blaine's arm to console him. Cooper took the kerosene lamp and opened the door to the cabin. He stepped out for a moment and was back in, carrying something. He sat on the edge of the bed, and held what was in his hand up to Kurt's cheek. Kurt jumped.

“You're holding a rock to my battered cheek, Coop? Why?”

“It's cold. There isn't any snow, so the rock is smooth and cold – to keep the swelling down. If you don't, it'll swell so much by morning you won't be able to open your eye.”

“Okay, I get it. Thanks, Coop,” Kurt said, holding the smooth rock to his cheek. It still stung, but wasn't all that bad. “Let's get back to sleep, I'm tired.”

“I agree, but I think I better sleep in the middle, Blaine is still twitchy from the fight and I can get out of his way I think,” Cooper said, moving to trade places with Blaine. They all fell asleep in a few minutes, Kurt's cheek resting on the cold rock.

Morning found Kurt wrapped up in a tangle of legs, but they weren't Blaine's. He started to move, but the legs were heavier and he felt trapped for a moment. Blinking awake, he saw it was the other brother, Cooper, playing octopus. Not only were his legs tangled with Cooper's, but Blaine had moved to his other side and was holding him from the back, his arms wrapped tightly around his chest. There was no way he was moving an inch with these Anderson's holding him down.

“Ahemmm...” Kurt cleared his throat. “Hey, guys, good morning?”

Blaine opened his eyes, taking a look around him to assess what was going on.

“Cooper! Hey, Coop. Let go of my boyfriend. Hey, wake up,” Blaine yelled, trying to reach his brother to shake him awake.

Kurt snapped his head around, but Blaine wasn't looking at him. Boyfriend?

“What?” a very sleepy Coop said, sitting up a bit. “What's wrong?”

“Coop, can you please untangle yourself from me so I can get up?” Kurt asked politely. This was getting embarrassing. “We look like a litter of hound pups. Let me loose, okay?” and he pushed at Coop's leg that was between his knees.

“Oh, yeah....sorry, it's something genetic, I think. All the Anderson men sleep like this,” Coop smiled, moving away and swinging his legs off the bed to sit up.

Blaine took advantage of his brother's movement to snuggle closer to Kurt. He turned Kurt's face towards himself to look at the cheekbone he'd hit during the night. It was bright purple, but not too swollen. The same could not be said for his eyebrow where Stan Von Stroh connected with a left jab during the fight yesterday. Kurt shivered at the sight of it, the hugely swollen bruise taking over his whole face, looking so sore where the old blood had pooled under his eye, giving him a terrible shiner.

Kurt was a little sick to his stomach looking at it. He was used to seeing bruises on his own body from the beatings he had taken at school, but this was far and away the worst he'd seen. He started to get out of bed reluctantly, although truth be told, he'd rather lie in Blaine's arms for a few more hours. He sighed and got out of bed.

The three of them went to the outhouse and back, dancing in the cold air. Cooper cooked a breakfast of sausages, homemade by Shannon, along with eggs, toast, and milk. It was on the table in short order and the boys sat down to eat as soon as they got in from milking Betsy and Bossy and feeding the animals.

After breakfast, everyone was ready to go and they walked across the camp to the dining hall where most of the lumberjacks had gathered. It was Sunday morning and the camp preacher had finished the church service, so the men were standing around eating doughnuts and drinking coffee. At the approach of Blaine, a cheer went up and many of the men came over to congratulate him. A lot of them pressed money into his hand, small thank yous from the men who had bet big and won. Von Stroh had been a champ for a while, so the odds were heavily against Blaine when the fight had been set up. Because Blaine didn't fight in other camps, he wasn't as well known and the betting was against him.

“Hey, Michael,” Blaine greeted a man as he approached the group that was standing around Blaine, Cooper, and Kurt.

Michael walked up, holding his hand out and Blaine shook it. Michael had been a close friend of Blaine's dad and had known him since he was a baby.

“You did Sterling proud, son, I know he's watching over you. He was a good man, your dad was,” Michael said, speaking of Blaine and Cooper's father. “I have your money for you, if you want it now. I'd get it into the camp bank soon, though, with everyone from the outlying projects in camp today.” He looked over at Cooper, who nodded.

“I will. Thank you, Michael.”

“How much did he earn, Michael? I was figuring about $8,000?” Coop said.

“Nope. It was closer to $12,000. Good job, Blaine. Plus the prize money, which is $5,000. How's your brow?”

“A bit on the tender side, but doing fine. Stan really caught me. I was lucky he was so tired, he could have really clocked me,” Blaine grinned.

Michael turned to Kurt. “Hi, my name is Michael, I've heard you were in camp. A friend of Blaine's?”

“Yes, sir,” Kurt answered.

“Looks like you've been fighting, too? Are you a boxer?” Michael asked, indicating the bruised cheek.

“Oh, no sir. Just a sparring partner,” he smiled, patting Blaine on the shoulder and his friend blushed. He'd already apologized several times and now Kurt was kidding him about it.

“Better get Pete to teach you to duck a bit better, kid,” Michael said, “you'll live longer.”

Michael handed an envelope to Cooper, who put it in his shirt. They said goodbye and the boys and Coop left the dining hall to stroll over to the camp offices. Blaine put the money in his account, got his receipt and they headed back to the cabin for lunch.

“How long before you have to get back?” Kurt asked, hoping Coop might stay a while. He was beginning to like Blaine's brother.

“Not sure, soon, though. August is giving me a ride so I won't have to walk.”

“Yeah, I worked at my dad's shop since I could lift a carburetor. He was having some trouble with that lifter thing...” he looked at Blaine.

“Feller buncher,” Blaine supplied.

“Yeah, the feller buncher. I may not know what all the big equipment is used for, but an engine is an engine and I can repair them,” Kurt smiled. He may not know how to tie a fly or set a snare, but he did know machinery.

“August is a fair man, he's a good one to have on your side, Kurt. If you're going to stay for a while, you'll need friends. A logging camp isn't a safe place if you don't know how to navigate the trouble areas. We're far from any kind of police involvement, so it's kind of like the old west – you need to be able to handle certain situations. But Blainers here can show you the ropes. He's been doing it all his life.”

Kurt just smiled at him. He was beginning to understand how it worked, but he was smart enough to also understand that he had no clue about most of the politics involved.

~*~*~*~

It was almost supper time and Kurt and the Anderson boys had just gotten back from a very successful fishing trip, a stringer filled with seven large rainbows and two brookies was swinging behind them as they entered the cabin. Not two minutes later there was a knock on the door.

“August!” Blaine grinned at his brother's foreman.

“Blaine. Good fight, I won a roll, buddy. You're turning out to be every bit the champ your brother was,” August grinned back.

“How'd you like to stay for supper? We caught a mess of trout and it's all ready for the pan if you're hungry,” Cooper asked, patting his brother on the back.

“A fresh trout wouldn't go amiss, for a guy as hungry as I am. Thanks, I'd love to,” August accepted. Blaine and Kurt walked towards the kitchen in the corner of the large room. August sat at the table with Cooper and got out a deck of cards, Coop brought over the cribbage board.

A few minutes later, Blaine was mixing up the batter for corn dodgers and Kurt was dressing the trout for the frying pan.

“Fifteen two, fifteen four, fifteen six and a pair is eight,” Cooper counted his points and August rubbed his face with his free hand. He was holding his cards so tight he was almost bending them.

“Go, damn it.”

Cooper laughed.

“Oh, you haven't won yet, Coop. Don't get too big for your britches, my man. Do you recall last week when I skunked you??”

“Just deal, too much talking, not enough card playing,” Cooper grouched.

“Skunked him?” Kurt asked Blaine in a whisper.

“It's when you beat your opponent by so many points that you are more than a street ahead,” Blaine grinned at the thought of August skunking Cooper. He must have giggled too loudly because he looked up to see Cooper glaring at him. He turned around in a hurry to finish peeling the sweet potatoes for supper, grinning to himself. He looked over at Kurt to see the same grin and they dissolved in giggles.

Everyone was sitting at the table, eating the fresh trout, cornbread and candied sweet potatoes. Good natured kidding gave way to a serious discussion about the machinery that needed tending to when August asked Kurt if he could be over at the mechanics shed on Wednesday morning to start some maintenance on the equipment.

After supper, Coop and August left. They were back soon with some supplies from the cook house: ice, salt, and a few other things. Blaine's face lit up and they brought in the ice cream crank freezer. Coop got busy with Blaine making the ice cream to be frozen: goat milk, honey, vanilla, blackberries, and a few other ingredients. It was placed in the freezer, the paddles set in place and the ice and salt added to the wooden freezer outside the metal container. All of them took turns cranking and it took quite a while before it was too hard to crank. Blaine took out the paddles and they set it to cure for an hour, still wrapped in the ice and salt, a large burlap sack covering it all.

Waiting for the ice cream, Blaine took out his harmonica and started to blow a tune, the others taking it up to sing along. Cooper's voice was very similar to Blaine's, but not quite as rich to Kurt's ears. August was a deep baritone while Kurt's countertenor put the cherry on top. They sang old songs, some hymns or spirituals, some folk songs that had come down in their families for generations. During a break in the songs, Kurt went to sit close to Blaine and sang very quietly:

“You are my sunshine,

My only sunshine.

You make me happy

When skies are gray,

You'll never know, dear,

How much I love you,

Please don't take

My sunshine away.”

Blaine smiled at Kurt, glancing over to see his brother and August were talking and didn't notice Kurt's singing. He leaned over and kissed Kurt's cheek.

“Thank you, Kurt,” Blaine whispered and kissed him again.

They ate the blackberry ice cream and talked a while longer before August picked up his hat and coat, wrapping up for the cold walk back to the bunk house.

“I'm going back with Auggie, we're leaving early in the morning to go back to the project and I can leave from there and not disturb you guys. I'll be back on Wednesday, I'm driving the knuckle-boom loader in, he wants you to look at the pin joint. Then you'll need to go back with me to look a the chain-flail delimber. Later we are going to check out the clam-bunk skidder and the grapple skidder,” Cooper told Kurt, who looked at him with an open mouth. Coop and August laughed. “That is..if you want the job, kid. What do you say?”

“Yes, sir, I'd love to work for you,” Kurt said, hoping his gratefulness showed through the simple acceptance. August smiled back at him.

“Don't worry, kid, you're going to learn all their names. It is just basic equipment and only needs the stuff you'd do for your chevy at home. These just have fancier names attached. So, I'll see you Wednesday. Bye, Blaine, thank you for supper, guys, it was great,” August said.

Cooper hugged his brother close to his chest, planted a kiss on his forehead and said goodbye. “I love you, Blaine.”

“I love you, too, Cooper. Hurry back,” he said, letting go of his brother's neck. He looked sad and Kurt took his hand to calm him.

“Bye for now, Kurt. It was great meeting you, I hope we'll be friends for a long time. Take care of my brother, okay?” Cooper asked.

“I will, Cooper. I promise,” Kurt returned.

Later that night, after they bathed and got everything ready, they climbed into bed. Kurt was tired, but wanted to ask Blaine something. He was nervous, but it was important.

“Blaine?”

“Yeah, Kurt?”

“What's going on with getting word to my dad? It's been about six weeks now and I'm really worried. He must be going through hell not knowing what happened to me. Can't we do anything else? Maybe August can help?”

“I guess it's worth a try. I'll ask him for you on Wednesday, okay?” Blaine offered. It was very dark and Kurt couldn't see the panic on Blaine's face.

“Thank you, Blaine, You're a good friend, I'm so lucky to have you,” Kurt sighed.

Tears came to Blaine's eyes, the guilt eating at him. He turned away, not convinced he could keep up the lies he had told Kurt. He felt terrible about it, but didn't know what else to do. He thought about the paper in his pocket that the guy in the camp office had handed to him. Kurt's dad wiring back, wanting to know how he could come get his son. Blaine had wired him that Kurt was okay, but didn't give much information, just a place to wire back. He wasn't so cold hearted that he would leave a man not knowing if his son was dead or alive, but he didn't want Kurt to leave him. He was falling in love with the boy.

A little while later, Kurt scooted closer. He wanted to kiss Blaine so badly, but was far too shy to do it. He wished Blaine would kiss him, but he didn't know how to ask. He settled for wrapping his arms around Blaine and snuggling his nose into Blaine's neck when his friend turned over to go to sleep. Taking Kurt's cheek in his hand, he closed his hazel eyes and put his soft lips on Kurt's and gave him a tender kiss.

“I'm lucky to have you, too, Kurt,” Blaine whispered in Kurt's ear, making shivers run down his arms. As Blaine kissed him one more long, sweet kiss, they hugged like koala bears and fell asleep.