Blaine was pulled from his thoughts by the sound of the bathroom door creaking open. Kurt stood in the doorway, and as Blaine saw him, his mouth fell open, his breath leaving him in a gasp. The difference between the boy that Blaine had found on the dirty blankets and this new Kurt was incredible.

Kurt had taken a second to messily style his wet hair. The way the light flooded behind him made him look as though he could have been carved from marble. The clothes Blaine had given him hung loosely on his slender frame. The pants were just the right length, but the drawstring was pulled tight to keep them from falling off his hips.

Blaine was speechless. Absolutely speechless. He hadn't realized that he'd been staring until he saw Kurt begin to shrink in on himself.

Desperate to keep Kurt from retreating back inside his own mind, Blaine spoke. "D-Did you find the toothbrush I left on the counter for you?"
Kurt nodded, shifting his weight awkwardly. "Yes, sir—Blaine," Kurt corrected nervously.
"Good," Blaine said, nodding. "Are you hungry?"
Again, Kurt just nodded.

Blaine helped Kurt to the kitchen and settled him into a chair before busying himself in cupboards, looking for something, anything, to feed Kurt that would be suitable for his stomach. "I texted my parents while you were getting ready and told them you were here."
Kurt looked up at Blaine, his eyes terrified.
"Don't worry. I won't let them hurt you. You're safe."

Blaine set down a small bowl of tomato soup and half a piece of toast on a plate in front of Kurt. "Eat slowly, okay? I'm sorry that I don't have anything better, I just-"
He broke off as he saw the way Kurt was staring at the food. His eyes were wide and awed. They darted from the food to Blaine's face.

He handed Kurt a spoon. He took it with a shaky hand, his eyes locked with Blaine's. Kurt slowly dipped it into the bowl, watching as the liquid filled the spoon. Cautiously, he lifted it toward his mouth, but his shaky hand dropped the spoon, the metallic clatter echoing loudly in the silent kitchen.

All of a sudden, Kurt covered his ears and threw himself out of his chair, landing harshly on his knees, pleading, as he picked up the spoon, a constant stream of sorry pouring from his mouth. Blaine sat frozen for a second, completely in shock. A wave of sadness washed through him as he saw Kurt trembling, his hands covering his face, clearly awaiting some sort of punishment.

Blaine dropped to his knees beside Kurt, taking the spoon from his hand and setting it back on the table. "Kurt." No answer. "Kurt." Nothing. Blaine raised his voice slightly, reaching forward and gripping Kurt's shoulders. "Kurt!" He regretted the tone instantly, but it got the other boy's attention.

"I-I'm sorry. I made a mess. I didn't mean to. I'm sorry." The words came out in a sad, quiet rush, his eyes were darting and terrified.
"Kurt, calm down. It's okay," he soothed, pulling the other boy's hands away from his head and gripping them tightly in his own. "It's okay. You're okay."

Kurt looked up and met Blaine's gaze, his blue eyes brimming with tears, body still trembling. "I-I'll clean it up, Blaine. I'm sorry. You've been so good to me, and I go and do something like-"
"You didn't do anything wrong, and you're not going to clean anything up," Blaine said, standing up and helping Kurt to his feet. "What you're going to do is sit down and eat your dinner before it gets ice cold." He guided Kurt back into his chair, rubbing a hand across the top of the other boy's arm. "I'll get you a new spoon. Why don't you eat a little bit of the toast for now." Blaine gestured to the small plate.

Blaine crossed the kitchen to grab another spoon, pausing to toss the dirty one in the sink and grab a dishcloth. He set the clean spoon down on the table and ducked to clean up the small splatter of red on the floor, tossing the cloth into the sink and dropping down in a chair. "How is it?"

Kurt was chewing a bite of toast carefully, a thoughtful expression on his face. He swallowed quickly. "Very good. Thank you." The answer was too automatic. Too practiced.

"Do you like tomato soup?" Blaine asked, his expression screwing up in concern. "Kurt, if you don't like something, tell me. I'm sure I could find something else."
"No, this is fine, really," Kurt said, his voice still nervous but sounding genuine enough.
"Okay. But, Kurt, please, if there's ever anything that I give you that you don't want, you don't have to eat it. You will never go hungry here. I'll make you something else."

Kurt watched Blaine's face as he spoke, obviously looking for signs that he was trying to trick him in some way. Blaine tried not to notice Kurt's appraising eyes on him. He pressed on, asking, "Okay?" He needed Kurt to know that he had a choice. Always.

The other boy nodded, turning his attention back to his food, his expression still thoughtful as he dunked the toast in his soup and took a bite. Blaine felt awkward sitting and watching someone else eat, so he decided to try to get Kurt talking again. "Can you tell me about yourself?"

Kurt looked up at Blaine, confused. "About me?" He asked, surprised. He looked as though no one had ever asked him about himself before. Oh, Blaine realized quickly. No one probably ever had asked about himself before. Not in this way at least.
"Yeah, tell me about yourself. I don't even know your last name." Blaine laughed, a short, quiet sound as he realized the truth of his words.
"Hummel," Kurt said quietly. "Kurt Hummel."

Blaine realized that he wanted to do this right. This wasn't the way people introduced themselves. "Okay, let's try it this way," Blaine said, affixing a smile to his face. He stuck his arm out toward Kurt. "Hi, I'm Blaine Anderson."
The other boy eyed the hand apprehensively for a second before reaching out to take it, a small smile touching his face. "Kurt Hummel," he said, his voice a little louder than Blaine had heard it.
"Well, Kurt Hummel, it's nice to meet you," Blaine answered, voice cheerful in an over-dramatic way as he shook the other boy's hand.

Kurt's free hand suddenly flashed to his mouth to stifle a quick fit of giggles. If Blaine had thought that Kurt's voice sounded like music, it was nothing but a discordant cacophony compared to the sound of his laugh. The sound warmed Blaine all the way down to the tips of his toes. A light blush colored the other boy's cheeks.

"Your laugh..." Blaine blurted out in an awed breath, shaking his head lightly. He had no idea what the end of that thought was.

Kurt quickly worked to school his expression into something more serious, and Blaine kicked himself for calling attention to it. He made a mental note for later.
"I'm sorry," Kurt apologized, his voice tinged with sadness.
"No. No, Kurt. Don't apologize. I meant that I like your laugh," Blaine said quickly. "It sounds like bells."
Kurt's face flushed again, the color reaching the tips of his ears.

Blaine suddenly realized that Kurt's hand was still held inside his own, so he brought his thumb to slide along the top of Kurt's hand. "I just—I like that I made you laugh. You should laugh more." Blaine cast his eyes toward the table, his voice taking on a sad reality. "I know you haven't had much reason to laugh lately, but...I'd like you to be happy here."

Kurt's eyes fell to where Blaine held his hand. Even in the silence of the room, if Blaine hadn't been listening closely, he wouldn't have heard Kurt speak, his voice brimming with sadness. "Why are you doing this?"
Blaine's eyes flashed toward Kurt's face. "Why am I doing what?"
"Why are you being so nice to me? It's not like you have to. I just can't figure out why you're doing this," Kurt answered in a sad sigh.

Blaine's heart broke as he heard Kurt's voice crack around the words. Kurt was trying to figure out Blaine's angle. He could feel the tears welling up in his own eyes, and he squeezed Kurt's hand.

"I know you don't believe me right now, Kurt, but I'm doing this because you deserve it. You deserve to have someone treat you with kindness and basic human dignity, because goddamn it, Kurt,you are a human being and you matter just as much as anyone else. Everyone deserves to be able to take a hot bath and eat three meals a day. I hate that everyone has made you doubt that, Kurt." Blaine's voice turned disgusted. "I hate that I can't offer you food without you thinking I'm trying to trick you."

Kurt sat frozen, his wide eyes locked on Blaine's face. Blaine had one of Kurt's hands held between both of his own as he stared meaningfully into Kurt's startlingly blue eyes, willing the other boy to believe his words. "Kurt, I just need you to know that, no matter what anyone else has done to you, I am not trying to trick you. I will never hurt you. I know this may be hard for you, but I just need you to trust me, okay?"
Kurt swallowed thickly and nodded.

"Do you trust me?" Blaine asked softly, his voice threatening to break.

He watched Kurt's eyes appraise his face with a thoughtful expression, watched the corner of Kurt's mouth twitch downward as he thought. Finally, slowly, Kurt nodded and answered in a soft voice. "Yes. I trust you."

They were silent as Kurt finished the last of his small portion of soup. Blaine took the bowl to the sink and came back with a glass of water, handing it to Kurt. "Thank you," Kurt said gratefully, tipping the glass to his lips. He started coughing again before he could even take a drink. Blaine quickly took the glass from Kurt's hand, before it could spill, and set it on the table.

Kurt wrapped his arms around his chest as though he was trying to hold himself together, his face screwed up in pain as the coughs wracked his weak body. Blaine leaned forward and rubbed a hand across the other boy's back, feeling the coughs rattling painfully in Kurt's lungs. "It's going to be okay. I'm going to call the doctor first thing Monday morning and we'll get you in as soon as possible."

Blaine carded his fingers through Kurt's hair in an attempt to comfort him. He knew it wasn't actually making him feel better, but he had to be doing something. He felt helpless. He was afraid for a moment that Kurt was coughing so hard that, if it continued for much longer, he would throw up the contents of his stomach. Thankfully, however, the coughing slowly subsided. Kurt was left gasping. Blaine leaned forward and brought his hand to Kurt's upper arm, rubbing it across his bicep, handing him the glass of water and watching as he quickly drank down a few gulps. Blaine took the glass before he could drink too much, still worried about the effect too much water would have on his system. "Would you feel better if you were lying down?"

Kurt nodded weakly and Blaine helped him to his feet, unsettled by the way Kurt wobbled when he stood. "Can I carry you? We've got to go upstairs and I don't think you'd do too well on your own." Kurt slowly reached in front of himself and wrapped his arms around Blaine's neck in silent permission. "Thank you, Kurt." Blaine reached down and scooped Kurt up in what was becoming a practiced motion.

He felt Kurt's head resting against the crook of his neck and realized that the other boy had been a lot more tired than he'd let on. He carried Kurt quietly into his bedroom and set him down gently on the bed. "We don't really have a guest room. My parents turned Cooper's room into storage after he moved out, so you're going to have to share my room for now. I'll get the guest room all cleaned out so that you can move in there, but this is sorta the best I can do right now. I'm sorry."

Kurt's eyes surveyed the room in silent awe. Blaine continued to ramble. "So...um...why don't you go ahead and make yourself comfortable while I go get the cot for you." The other boy nodded and Blaine walked to the storage room to find Kurt's bed. He had to fight with it for a while to try and dislodge it from where it was trapped between four boxes of Christmas decorations. Finally, he got it loose and pushed it toward his bedroom.

As soon as he crossed the threshold, he saw that Kurt had in fact made himself comfortable. He had fallen asleep lying on the big bed, his head resting on a pillow and his knees pulled up tight. Blaine smiled to himself and quietly pushed the cot the rest of the way inside. He took a blanket that was draped over the back of his computer chair and spread it out over Kurt's sleeping body.

He took advantage of the lull in activity to work on some homework, doing his best not to think about what his parent's reaction was going to be to seeing that he'd brought home a reject. Blaine bristled at the word.

He'd sent a message to his parents saying that he'd bought a slave and that he was taking him home. They'd been overjoyed that he'd come around to seeing the value in buying someone to do housework and other things.

His father had told him the story many times before about his first slave, a teenaged girl named Anna. Over their father-son bonding moments (such as they were), he'd regaled Blaine with stories about how she had a "talented mouth" and "mile long legs". Blaine had tried to repress his disgust and just let his father brag about how, by the time he'd gotten done with her, they couldn't sell her to anyone else because she was all worn out.

Blaine heard the tip snap off his pencil and realized just how hard he'd been pressing it into the paper. He let it drop into his open math book and leaned back in his chair, dragging his hands through his curls with a sigh.

He remembered what his father had once said when Cooper was fifteen and wanted to help a slave he'd found by the side of the road. "Son, we're Andersons. And, as Andersons, we've got a name to protect. We can't have people thinking we'll let just any old trash into our home. He's a reject, Cooper. Just leave him. He's useless. The department will take care of him. We can't have something like that tarnishing our name."

Blaine glanced at Kurt's sleeping form, watching his chest rise and fall with each breath, his face finally relaxed with sleep, and couldn't imagine ever thinking that he was useless. Could a human being ever be worthless? According to the law in the state of Ohio, if a slave can no longer perform their tasks to satisfaction, they are considered useless and therefore obsolete. Useless slaves are put to death to prevent them from becoming a burden on society.

His eyes flickered back to Kurt and his stomach dropped as he realized that, had he not bought him, Kurt would be dead right now. If he hadn't noticed the subtle movement on the bundle of blankets, the boy sleeping peacefully in his bed wouldn't exist anymore. The thought moved Blaine to tears. He covered his mouth in an attempt to muffle the sob that slipped out. It was too much. He needed some sort of reassurance, so he stood up and crossed the room to sit on the edge of his bed.

Kurt was alive. Kurt was warm and breathing. Blaine brought his fingers to card through the sleeping boy's hair. He took a deep breath to steady himself before standing up and going back to his desk, dropping down heavily in his chair. He took a deep breath. Life had to go on. Kurt was safe now. He was going to get better. Blaine reminded himself to breathe, because no matter how his parents reacted, no matter what happened, Kurt was alive.

He put his head down on the desk in the cradle of his arms, shut his eyes tightly, and willed his headache to go away.

-xXxXx-

He must have fallen asleep, because he was suddenly jarred into reality by the sound of a terrified scream. He shoved his chair back and stood up, momentarily confused. It slowly started to come back to him. He was in his room. Kurt was asleep in his bed.

He quickly went to the side of the bed where Kurt was thrashing weakly under the blanket, murmuring scared little sounds as his hands covered his face defensively. Blaine sat down next to him and rubbed a hand across his arm. Kurt's whole body was trembling. Blaine had never seen anyone look so restless while sleeping.

Kurt screamed again. "Stop!!" The cry was shrill and broken. It pierced through Blaine's body like a knife. He was sure he couldn't begin to imagine the dream Kurt was having or the memory he was reliving. Kurt whimpered quietly and curled further in on himself. "Please, don't..." The words where choked and quiet. Blaine couldn't take anymore.

"Hey," he said softly, rubbing Kurt's arm again. "Kurt, wake up."

The other boy's eyes flew open and he tried to sit up immediately, wincing as the movement caused him pain. He flinched away and suddenly dissolved into tears. Blaine leaned forward and wrapped his arms around the scared boy, sliding his hand across Kurt's back, whispering soothing nonsense in his ear.

"You're okay, Kurt. I've got you. You're okay."
"I defied your order," Kurt sobbed. "You've been so good to me and I didn't even listen-"
"Kurt, what are you talking about?" Blaine asked, confused.
"I fell asleep on your bed." He said the words bitterly, obviously angry at himself. "I've never even had an owner who gave me my own bed before and I go and do something like this."

Blaine shook his head profusely, rubbing Kurt's arm in a desperate attempt to calm him."You didn't do anything wrong, Kurt. It's okay. I promise. Don't worry about it." Blaine squeezed Kurt a little tighter, mindful of where his bruises were. He felt Kurt's head rest against his shoulder.

"Do you want to tell me what you were dreaming about?" Blaine asked, even though he didn't think he really wanted to know.

The other boy took a deep, shaky breath before answering.

"My first owner," he said sadly. "He...he wasn't good like you are. He was very bad." Kurt shook his head as he pulled away, casting his eyes to his lap.
"Why did you get sent to him. I mean...what put you in circulation?" Blaine asked, taking Kurt's hand.

Kurt's voice was sad and quiet when he finally answered Blaine.

"My mother died when I was nine, so I was raised by my dad. I was in class one day and the school councilor came and pulled me into her office. A man from the Department of Worker's Affairs was waiting. They told me that my father had a heart attack and that I was now property of the Department. They took me out of school and I went straight to my first owner."

"Just like that?" Blaine asked, stunned.
"Just like that," Kurt affirmed flatly.

"God, I can't imagine just having your life uprooted like that," Blaine's voice was distant and thoughtful.
"I think the worst part about being put into circulation was that I had no idea what to expect. My dad was like you. We never owned a worker. So, I didn't know what was going to happen," Kurt said quietly, his eyes still cast to the blanket.
Before he could stop himself, Blaine blurted out, "Were you scared?"

Kurt looked up to meet his eyes. His voice was low and sad. "I'm always scared."
Blaine dropped his gaze to where he held Kurt's hand on the blanket. "Are you scared now?"

Kurt worried his lip between his teeth, thinking, before shaking his head lightly. "No."

Blaine lifted his gaze back to Kurt's eyes. "Good, because you don't have to be. I want you to be happy here, Kurt. I'm going to do everything I can to make sure you get better." He leaned forward and wrapped his arms around Kurt's shoulders again, squeezing with new found purpose. "You don't have to be scared anymore."

The sound of the front door being slammed closed made both boys jump. His mother's voice called from the foot of the stairs. "Blaine!"
"I'm upstairs, mom. I'll be down in a second," Blaine called back.

He pulled out of the hug. "Why don't you lie back down and try and go back to sleep?"
"I-In your bed?" Kurt asked, his voice awed.
"Well, you seemed so comfortable before." Blaine gave him a quick smile and patted his hand. "Just rest. You need all the sleep you can get if you want to get better." He squeezed Kurt's hand lightly and stood up. "Goodnight, Kurt."
A small smile touched Kurt's face. "Goodnight, Blaine."