“Cooper? This is Kurt. There’s been - it’s Blaine. There’s been a...an incident.” Kurt’s voice is shaking, scared, and Cooper’s heart drops to his shoes right then and there. It’s Blaine.

“We’re taking him to the ER. You need to come.”

Not again Cooper thinks desperately over the roaring in his ears and the pounding of his heart.

Cooper doesn’t remember the drive to the hospital. Doesn’t remember hanging up on Kurt, getting his coat and keys, and breaking every speed limit law in Lima, Ohio.

Cooper doesn’t see the group of teenagers hovering in the waiting area as he rushes through the doors of the ER to the reception desk. This isn’t the same hospital as before, but all ERs are the same, and the cloying antiseptic smell of it is a sense-memory so strong he almost stumbles to his knees with it.

“Where is my brother?” He gasps at the nurse, hands clutching at the desk to keep himself upright. “Blaine. Blaine Anderson. I was told he was brought here. I need to see him. Now.”

“Are you his legal guardian?” The nurse asks, calmly, professionally, as he’s done thousands of times. But it’s all Cooper can do not to grab the young man by his shoulders and shake him.

“I’m family. I’m his family. What does it matter?”

The nurse at least has the decency to look sympathetic. “Sir, the patient is still a minor. We need his legal guardian for the paperwork, and the insurance.”

Cooper reaches into his pocket and digs an insurance card out of his wallet. His hands are shaking so badly he’s surprised he doesn’t drop it. “He lives with me. I’m his, his guardian. Please. I need to see him. Please.”

You don’t understand. I can’t do this again.

The nurse takes his card and does something incomprehensible with a computer before pointing Cooper towards bed 6. Cooper at least remembers to say thank you before he’s pushing away from the desk and crossing the tiled floor towards Blaine.

He’s not in a private room this time, just around a curtain in the corner of the ER. Cooper can tell which bed is Blaine’s before he gets there because Burt and Carole Hudson-Hummel are standing around it. Burt has his arm firmly around Carole’s shoulders and both of them are wearing matching worried looks. They look up as he approaches. Neither of them are crying, and Cooper takes that as a good sign.

Cooper takes a deep breath as he comes fully around the curtain.

He stops dead, shocked into stillness at the sight of Blaine, his baby brother, the person he is supposed to guard and protect, once more in a hospital bed.

Blaine is sitting up this time, conscious, but his right eye is covered by a thick padding of gauze held in place by tape. His other eye is bloodshot and so swollen he can hardly keep it open. There is a wash of red spilling down his white t-shirt, a dark stain, and bile rises hot and swift to Cooper’s mouth.

That cannot be blood oh god it looks like blood.

And suddenly Cooper is right back to two years ago.

Back to Blaine’s broken body lying motionless in a hospital bed just like this one. The titanium screws in his leg. The jagged pink scar near his spine where a broken bottle dug almost too deep. His dislocated shoulder; the damaged nerves. The pale line of a scar on his scalp hidden by the sweep of his hair. The blood that was under his broken nose. The bruises that took weeks to fade, and those that never quite healed.

Cooper makes a broken, distressed noise from somewhere deep in his soul.

Not the same not the same not the same.

“Hey, Coop,” Blaine says softly, almost like he’s coaxing a skittish dog into coming inside from the rain.

“We’ve got to stop meeting like this.”

Blaine’s good eye closes briefly against the wash of emotion. Trust his brother to make a joke at a time like this.

“Cooper,” he whispers and his voice is thick with tears.

Cooper comes to the edge of the bed. This close the sickly sweet smell of whatever is on his shirt is almost nauseating. He swallows reflexively. He can hear Burt and Carole shifting behind him. He is thankful they’re here too.

Kurt is sitting on Blaine’s bedside, on his left where Blaine can see him. He’s holding Blaine’s hand tightly between his own, thumb stroking rhythmically over his knuckles, and Cooper can see just how red Kurt’s own eyes are.

“Are you ok?” Cooper asks, reaching out and placing a gentle hand on Blaine’s shoulder. His good one. Not the one that sometimes aches in the morning, sending a cold tingling down his arm to his fingertips.

“I’m fine, Coop. I am. It’s...it’s going to be fine.”

Cooper searches Blaine’s face. In the set of Blaine’s jaw, the twitch of his mouth, the deep furrow of his brow, Cooper can see the pain. He can see the hurt and the worry. Blaine is trying to hide it, to be brave for the both of them, but his brother is scared.

Blaine remembers too.

Cooper nods. They will talk about this later. When Blaine isn’t putting on a brave, stoic front for Burt and Carole. Maybe even for Kurt. Cooper gives Blaine’s shoulder another gentle squeeze before he looks over to Kurt.

He has his eyes cast down to where he’s holding Blaine’s hand tightly in his own. He seems to be watching the rhythmic sweep of his thumb across Blaine’s knuckles. Cooper would be surprised if he’s actually seeing anything at all.

“Are you ok?” Cooper suddenly asks Kurt, and the other boy jerks a little in surprise.

“Me? Oh god, I’m fine. Nothing happened to me,” Kurt pulls Blaine’s hand to his chest and presses it there. He doesn’t seem to do it consciously. “He, Blaine he pushed me out of the way.”

“No, Kurt, I mean are you ok?”

Kurt looks from Cooper back to Blaine. “I’m...I will be.” His eyes are red, but dry.

Blaine smiles, a little sadly, and leans in to press a soft, chaste kiss to the corner of Kurt’s mouth.

“So,” Cooper puts his hands on his hips. “Which one of you is going to tell me just whose ass I’m going to be kicking?”

“Don’t,” Blaine starts to say, but Kurt interrupts.

“It was Sebastian,” Kurt says, and his voice is harder, colder than Cooper has ever heard it before. It’s a little scary, and Cooper likes it. “He did this.”

“What did he do?”

“It was a slushie,” Blaine says, and Cooper nearly does a double take in surprise. He’s heard all about McKinley High’s propensity for slushie bullying, both from Blaine and from Kurt, but neither of them has ever suggested that this kind of damage happened.

“I don’t understand. A slushie did this? How is that possible? No one else has ever ended up in the ER. Have they?”

“That’s because it wasn’t just a slushie,” comes another voice.

There’s a doctor standing behind them - a short woman with brown hair and intelligent eyes. Cooper can’t explain it, but the mere sight of her comforts him.

“You must be his family,” she says, flipping through Blaine’s chart with practiced ease.

“I am.”

“All right, let me tell you what’s going on here.”

Cooper listens as the doctor tells him about Blaine’s eye and what damage the rock salt caused. He’ll need surgery, but it has to wait for some of the swelling to go down.

At the mention of surgery, Blaine’s face loses what color it had left and he turns his head towards Kurt, tipping his forehead against his boyfriend’s and resting it there for a long minute.

“But he can come home tonight?” Cooper asks, pulling his eyes away from where Blaine and Kurt are lost in each other, taking and giving what comfort they can. Cooper is, as always, incredibly thankful for Kurt.

“He can,” the doctor nods. “But the gauze stays on. We don’t want to risk any further damage before we can get in there and fix it.”

“We’ll get you an eye patch Blainers, how does that sound?”

Blaine rolls his good eye at him and Kurt just grins at the both of them.

“I’ll send you home with a prescription for pain medication,” the doctor continues, flipping her clipboard shut. “I recommend that he just rests for the next couple of days while the swelling goes down. He’s not going to feel great anyway. Be sure to bring him back in immediately if he develops a fever or a sudden increase in pain or swelling.”

Cooper nods and the shakes the doctor’s hand. Her fingers are surprisingly warm against Cooper’s ice-cold skin. And then she’s gone, off to the next patient.

Cooper turns back to the hospital bed. Kurt is still holding Blaine’s hand, and Blaine is staring at where their fingers are intertwined. There’s no way Cooper is going to separate them tonight.

“Kurt, you should stay with us tonight. I mean,” Cooper turns to Burt and Carole. “If that’s ok with you.”

Burt fixes him with hard look. Cooper forgets, sometimes, that some kids have parents who love and adore and cherish them. No matter what.

Kurt has stayed the night at Cooper’s place before, and Cooper always tells Burt that he’s got an extra bedroom for Kurt to stay in, even if it’s not entirely true. Cooper’s never sure if Burt believes him for not. But he’s never said anything about it, and Kurt is still allowed to sleep over.

“It’s fine,” Burt says gruffly. “I’d like to see you try and pry them apart tonight anyway.”

Both Kurt and Blaine flush bright red.

“You’re still going to school tomorrow,” Burt says firmly.

“But,”

Cooper smiles softly at Kurt. He would let Kurt skip, but he’s not the boy’s father. “It’s ok - I’m calling in tomorrow. They can get a sub to cover. I’ll be with Blaine, though I’m sure he’d prefer you.” Cooper throws a wink at Kurt, and it feels good to see the both of them blush again.

“Come on, let’s get you out of here.”

***

Cooper drives while Kurt and Blaine sit together in the backseat. He feels a bit like a chauffeur, but he’s ok with that. Blaine sits with his head on Kurt’s shoulder and Kurt still hasn’t let go of his hand.

Together they get Blaine into the house and up the stairs to his bedroom. The pain medication from the ER has made Blaine sleepy and unsteady on his feet and they’re certainly not going to risk Blaine falling.

When they get him to his bedroom, Blaine sinks heavily down onto his bed, sighing from the very depth of his being.

Cooper grabs his brother’s pajamas from the drawer and hands them to Kurt, who looks at him questioningly.

“I think you’ve got this,” Cooper says, with a sly little grin and Kurt flushes a dark red. Blaine makes an annoyed sound from the bed.

“I, we...”

“It’s ok, Kurt,” Cooper places a hand on Kurt’s shoulder, as he does so very often to Blaine. “I’m glad you’re here for him.”

Kurt swallows and nods, unable to say anything in that moment.

“I’ll be downstairs. I’ve got some phone calls to make. You two try and get some sleep. Do you need anything? Something to sleep in? Clothes for tomorrow?”

“I uh, I think I’ve got something here that I left,” Kurt says, and his eyes flicker to Blaine’s closet. Cooper grins. Like he hasn’t noticed bits and pieces of Kurt moving into his home: the extra toothbrush in Blaine’s bathroom; the healthful food in the refrigerator; the pair of boots by the door.

“Ok. Good.” Cooper gives Kurt’s shoulder another squeeze before he turns to Blaine.

“Hey,” Cooper says. He steps to the edge of the bed and holds his arms out. Blaine leans forward into him and Cooper wraps him up in a hug. With Blaine sitting, the unhurt side of his face pressed to Cooper’s sternum, it feels like hugging the little boy his brother once was. Cooper drops a kiss to Blaine’s hair and tastes cherry slushie. He has to close his eyes against the sudden tears.

“I love you, Blaine. And I am so, so sorry this happened again.”

“I love you, too.” There is so much more they need to say about this night, but it can wait.

Cooper pulls back and pressed another kiss to Blaine’s forehead. “Ok, I’ll leave you two alone. Get some sleep OK? But wake me up if you need anything, anything at all.”

Cooper closes the door behind him as he leaves. He stand in the dimly lit hallway for a long moment, taking deep, slow breaths, trying to still the shaking of his hands.

He wants to do so many things. He wants to scream. He wants to hit something. He wants to fall to his knees and cry. He wants to walk right into Dalton and yell at those idiot boys. What happened to Once a Warbler, Always a Warbler? He wants to punch this Sebastian in the face.

He settles for pouring himself a very large drink and staring blankly at the TV for an hour.

***

“This shirt is forever ruined.” Kurt says, placing Blaine’s pajamas next to him on the bed. He reaches out and touches his fingers to Blaine’s chest, where the slushie has dried stiff and tacky.

Blaine shrugs. “I’ve got another.” It’s just a white t-shirt. He’ll throw it out; he can’t imagine ever wanting to wear it again, even if the stain washed clean.

“We should get you cleaned up and into bed,” Kurt brushes his knuckles down Blaine’s cheekbone and Blaine’s good eye closes at the gentle, familiar touch. “You look exhausted.”

Blaine nods. He reaches down and unclasps his watch, pulling it from his pocket. He cradles it gently in his hands, rubbing his thumb over the familiar etching of the faceplate. Tucked into its usual place in his pocket the watch was protected from any slushie, but he can’t tell if it got scratched or dented or broken.

“Can you check it for me? I landed on it pretty hard when I fell,” he hands the watch to Kurt, who takes it with careful, reverent fingers. “I’m having a uh, hard time seeing it.” Blaine laughs self-consciously and goes to rub at his eye. Kurt catches wrist.

“Don’t do that,” he says softly, and pulls Blaine’s hand to his mouth, brushing his lips across his knuckles.

“I’m sorry,” Kurt whispers against Blaine’s skin, sitting down next to him on the bed. “That was for me and you took it. You pushed me out of the way and look what happened.”

“I would do it again in a heartbeat,” Blaine says, low and fervent. “This was about me. Hurting me. He doesn’t get to use you to hurt me.”

Kurt uses his hold on Blaine’s wrist to pull his arm around his own shoulders, snuggling in close to Blaine’s side. “I don’t know what his problem is.”

“Can we talk about it tomorrow? When you get home from school?”

Home Kurt thinks and there’s warm ache in his chest.

“Of course.”

Kurt helps Blaine get undressed, so careful not to bump his eye as they get his shirt off, before wadding the t-shirt up and throwing it right into the trash. He gets Blaine into the shower and doesn’t hesitate when Blaine tugs his hand with a small smile, pulling him into it too.

Another time he would savor the slide of Blaine’s clothes from his body, and the flush of his skin under the hot water. Another time he’d revel in the feeling of Blaine’s curls around his fingers as he washes his hair for him, the shampoo pulling gel and slushie from it and sending it down the drain. Kurt uses his hands to cup water and carefully rinses Blaine’s hair, making sure to keep the gauze over his damaged eye dry.

Any other day he’d delight in being able to rub a soft towel, slow and careful, over Blaine’s damp, warmed skin - feeling muscle and bones shift beneath his touch, before helping him into his ridiculous pajamas. To crawl into his neatly made bed and rest his head on Blaine’s pillow, so close he can taste Blaine’s breath. To be pressed in close to the heat of him, with the smell of him thick and clean all around him.

Tonight though, he contents himself with a slow kiss to Blaine’s mouth, just a light, almost chaste press of his lips. He can feel Blaine’s sleepy smile and know he’ll be asleep in moments.

“I love you,” he whispers in the dark.

***

There’s a knock on the front door the next morning, after Kurt has left for school. Blaine is nestled on the sofa - his eye feels better if he can rest his head back against something - and Cooper is cleaning up the remnants of their breakfast. Kurt had wanted to help, but Cooper had kicked him out of the kitchen with a playful shove to his shoulder and a teasing:

“Go kiss your boyfriend goodbye. I’ve got this.”

Cooper dries his hands on a towel before making his way to the door. He can’t imagine who would be at his house this early.

When he opens the door, all the air leaves him in a rush. He grips the doorknob so tightly he’s sure it groans in protest.

His parents are standing on the stoop, and they are many some of the last people Cooper expected to see.

Mr. Anderson is fully dressed in a suit, despite the still early hour. It looks expensive, and it very likely is, with a long trench coat accentuating his broad frame. Mrs. Anderson is small and delicate next to him in a pale dress and peacoat.

“What are you doing here?” Cooper demands. It’s taking all the restraint he possesses not to slam the door in their faces.

“We heard about Blaine,” his mother says.

“How?” Cooper certainly didn’t call them.

“We received a call from a Mr. Hummel,” Mr. Anderson says, almost through clenched teeth. “He said he was the father of Blaine’s...friend, who was present during the incident.”

Cooper clenches his jaw. Blaine’s friend. All this time and he still can’t say it.

“What do you want?”

“We’d like to see him. He is our son.”

Cooper can’t stop the snort that escapes him and his father’s eyes flash a warning at him. “No, he’s not. You kicked him out. You sent him away. You didn’t want him.”

But I did. I took him. I cared for him. I loved him.

“Cooper, please.” His mother at least looks wounded by his statement; her eyes are downcast and she’s frowning. Cooper hopes she hurts even a fraction of how much Blaine hurt that warm late summer evening. His father remains impassive.

“If you say anything to him to upset him,” Cooper warns, stepping aside and letting his parents into his house for the first time.

He leads them straight to the living room, where Blaine is stretched out on the sofa idly flipping through the channels on the TV.

Blaine jumps to his feet on instinct when he sees his parents walk into the room, but he’s a little woozy from his pain medication and the room swims. Cooper sees his brother sway on his feet and rushes to him, grabbing his elbow to help steady him.

Blaine gapes at the still figures in front of him. He hasn’t seen his parents in almost six months - not since they kicked him out - and the air grows thick and heavy all around him at the sight of them.

“What,” he starts, but his mouth is suddenly so dry his tongue sticks on his words. “What are you doing here?”

“We heard about what happened, from Kurt’s father.” At least their mother can say his name. “That you were in the hospital again.” Mrs. Anderson’s dark-eyed gaze flicks to Blaine’s eye patch.

“Are you OK?” She asks with such genuine concern that Blaine has to swallow against the rise of emotion. Despite it all, she is still his mother. She gave birth to him, raised him, cared for him - loved him. He can’t, he won’t, deny her that, but can’t forget what she allowed to happen. And he’s not ready to forgive.

“I’m fine. You could have called,” Blaine tugs nervously at the cuffs of his pajamas. “You didn’t have to come all the way out here.”

“Blaine,” Mr. Anderson begins, and both Cooper and Blaine feel themselves straightening up, standing just a bit taller at the authority of his father’s voice. Old habits are terribly hard to break.

“Your mother and I came here to tell you something.”

“We’d like for you to come home now,” his mother says, and she is clutching her purse so tightly her knuckles are white.

Blaine’s jaw drops and the room swims a little again. He hears Cooper swear softly under his breath. In front of them his parents are staring at them expectantly. His father does not look happy, but his mother is so hopeful. But he can’t. He can’t. They are his parents and he loves them despite himself, but he doesn’t need them.

Blaine takes a shuffling little step closer to Cooper, who is radiating tension. He reaches out and takes Cooper’s hand, clutching tightly to it like he used to when he was little and needed his brother’s unflagging reassurance.

“I am home.”

Cooper squeezes his hand even tighter.

Mrs. Anderson makes a small sound in her throat, but nods ever so slightly. His father clenches his jaw so tightly Blaine’s sure he can hear the man’s teeth grinding.

“This is your decision?” Mr. Anderson asks and it’s the same voice as before. And the answer is the same.

“It is.”

“Then that’s that. Let’s go.” Mr. Anderson turns on his heel and begins to head for the hallway.

Mrs. Anderson casts a long, aching look at her sons before she too turns. Cooper is squeezing Blaine’s hand so tightly it hurts.

“Mom,” Blaine suddenly calls out, and she turns back. “I – I’ll call you. I will.”

She smiles, then, just a slight curve of her lips, but it makes Blaine think that maybe, one day, they will be ok.

And then they’re gone. Blaine hears the front door close, a dull thwump echoing through the house, and he turns into his brother’s body, pressing close as Cooper wraps his arms around him.

Blaine’s not crying, but he stands there for a long minute, face pressed to Cooper’s collarbone, just breathing, as Cooper rubs his back in long, soothing passes. He hums a little into his hair, a tuneless little song.

“Do you want to call Kurt or something?” Cooper asks finally.

Blaine shakes his head. “He’s in class. I’ll send him a text. He doesn’t – I don’t want to worry him when he can’t, when he’s still at school.”

“Do you want to watch Singing in the Rain?”

“Please.”

Cooper spends the afternoon curled on the couch with Blaine, watching old movies and making a dent in junk food stash that they’ve had to start hiding from Kurt, lest he throws it all away.

Blaine falls asleep at some point, face smushed into one of the pillows, and Cooper leaves him be, covered with a old, soft blanket, until Kurt comes back from school.

It doesn't quite feel like resolution, but it's getting closer.