Blaine debated whether or not he should call his parents as he drove through Ohio on the city bus. Well, he knew that he should, but he didn't know if he wanted to. He realized that he had to soon – eventually, his mother's letters would be mailed back, causing her to go into a fit of panic.

Deciding on a whim, Blaine pulled out the phone he'd been given and called his brother. The phone rang a few times, and, once he heard his brother's voice, Blaine had to fight everything inside of him not to break down.

"Hello?" He said. "Who is this?"

Blaine gulped, having to force himself to talk. "Blaine," he whispered. "It's Blaine."

Cooper, on the end of the line, was silent for a few minutes. Blaine briefly imagined him dropping the phone in shock, his brother's eyes widening as he stared at his phone on the floor before rushing to pick it up.

"Blaine?" Cooper asked, his voice soft. "Is that really you?"

Blaine nodded, even though Cooper couldn't see him. "Yeah," he said, his voice cracking a little. "It's me."

"You're back?" Cooper went on, his tone almost disbelieving.

Blaine instantly felt guilty. He hadn't taken any of his leaves, with hopes that they would let him return home earlier because of it. That, however, resulted in him ultimately missing his brother's wedding.

"Yeah," Blaine said again. "They don't want you in the army when you've been shot in the shoulder."

Blaine really should have anticipated Cooper's reaction, but he hadn't.

"You were – YOU WERE SHOT?" Cooper yelled into the phone, and Blaine could hear his voice cracking. "God, Blaine, you could have died and you – have you called Mom and Dad?"

"No," Blaine responded. "You're the first person I've called."

Cooper rattled off his address then. "Come over," he said. "Now. Vanessa will be home in a few hours. We'll make you dinner, and call Mom and Dad and just celebrate you coming home."

"Okay," Blaine agreed. But then he remembered the piece of paper in his hand. He opened it and stared at the address for a moment before giving his attention back to his brother. "Actually," he said. "I need to make a stop first."

Cooper, if he was curious, didn't let on. "Okay," he said. "I'll call Mom and Dad and have them come over. Just stop by when you can."

Blaine agreed, chatting with his brother for a few more minutes.

"Blaine?" Cooper said as their conversation neared an end.

"Yeah?"

"I'm glad you're okay."

Blaine took a deep breath, closing his eyes for a moment. "Me too, Coop," he whispered. "I'm glad I'm okay, too."

They said their goodbyes then, Blaine's bus nearing where he knew he was getting off.

The bus driver nodded in respect at Blaine – who realized that he really needed to get out of his uniform – as he got off of the bus.

He wandered down the streets of the subdivision, searching for the house with the address Finn had given him.

He knew where he was. He'd performed at McKinley High School with his show choir when he was a teenager, the school having hosted Regionals a few times.

Things really were different while he was in high school, attending the Dalton Academy School for boys. Everything was different.

Blaine stopped abruptly as the now familiar address appeared on a house. God, was he really doing this? He was really about to walk up to a complete stranger's house and introduce himself. It was insane. Nobody ever did things like this.

But he promised Finn. He'd promised Finn he'd look after his brother, and when a soldier made a promise to another soldier, the promise was always kept.

Removing his hat and shoving it into his pants pocket, Blaine took a deep breath and walked up to the front door, hesitating before ringing the doorbell.

There was no backing out now.

Blaine waited a few moments before the door started to open. He held his breath, not really knowing what to expect. He didn't know how Kurt would react, what he would say, what he would do. The ball was up in the air, and there was nothing Blaine could do to control the situation. It was all up to Kurt.

And then the door was all the way open, a slender boy with bright blue eyes staring at Blaine. His hair was perfectly coiffed, his figure flawless and his skinny jeans accentuating his form in all the right places.

Blaine gulped and met his bright blue eyes. He looked around the same age as Blaine, maybe a little older, but signs of stress were present in his face.

But he was giving Blaine a quizzical look, one perfect eyebrow raised in curiosity at him.

"Err," Blaine started, not sure of what he should say. "Um…"

The boy laughed – a beautiful, melodious sound that Blaine thought just about stopped his heart.

"Finn sent you, didn't he?" The boy asked.

And, if Blaine wasn't already in a state of shock, that voice sent him over the edge. His voice was clear and pristine and so very, very unique.

Blaine nodded, still not sure how Kurt was going to take this.

"I should have known he would do something like that," Kurt said, sighing and shaking his head a little. "Find a discharged soldier to look after me."

"I'm sorry," Blaine said abruptly. "I – I shouldn't have come. I apologize, and I can just go –"

"No," Kurt interrupted him, stepping aside. "Come in. From the looks of it, you just got off of a plane from wherever it was you were stationed. You probably haven't eaten a real meal in a few years."

"If you're sure," Blaine said. "I – I don't want to impose."

"Just come in," Kurt said. "What's your name, anyway?"

"Blaine," he replied as he walked into Kurt's house. "Blaine Anderson."

Blaine looked around as Kurt closed the door behind him. The house was clearly lived in – and it looked like it had been for years.

He took in the pictures on the mantel – some of what he assumed was Kurt as a child with a young, blonde haired woman.

And that's when it hit Blaine.

This was Kurt's house. This was where he had grown up.

Blaine gulped, not wanting to bring up the fact that he already knew about Kurt's family situation and that Finn had told him pretty much everything.

"Well, Blaine," Kurt said as he walked into the kitchen. "What can I make you? Anything you want?"

Blaine's mouth began to water at the thought of having something – anything – besides the dull, grey food he'd eaten for the past three years. "Something greasy and warm sounds amazing," he says after a moment.

Kurt laughed and strolled back into the living room, a phone in hand. "How about we order a pizza?" He said.

Blaine's eyes widened and he nodded eagerly. Kurt laughed again and dialed a number, quickly placing the order before pocketing his phone.

"Before you get too comfortable," Kurt said slowly, perching himself on the edge of the armchair. "I should probably tell you that I'm gay." He paused, gauging Blaine's reaction. "And this is Ohio. So if you're not comfortable with that, I'm going to have to ask you to leave, because I've dealt with enough of that kind of hate to last me a lifetime."

"I know," Blaine said, flopping down onto the couch and toeing off his boots. "And it doesn't bother me."

"It doesn't?" Kurt asked, his voice laced with confusion.

"Nope," Blaine responded, a small smile playing on his lips. "Might be because I myself am gay. Can't really judge you for it, can I?"

Kurt's mouth dropped open, his blue eyes shining a little.

Blaine laughed and shifted his shoulder uncomfortably. "Don't sound so surprised," he said. "Just because I'm wearing a military uniform doesn't mean I don't fit the stereotype."

Kurt chuckled before settling himself in the chair he was previously perched on. "Do you want a change of clothes?" He asked. "I'm sure Finn has something around here that should fit you."

"Sure," Blaine nodded. Kurt ambled off for a moment, leaving Blaine alone in the living room.

He wondered why Kurt was so accepting of a total stranger just showing up at his house. It didn't make sense, but, as he glanced around, Blaine put the little pieces of Kurt's life together.

And he realized that, true to Finn's word, Kurt truly had no one. There were only pictures of what Blaine assumed was Kurt's father, others of either the young blonde woman or an older, short haired woman.

No pictures of friends – at least not in this room.

Kurt lived in this house meant for a family, completely alone.

And, god, if Blaine were ever to be completely alone like that, he would accept random strangers into his house, too.

Kurt came back with a change of clothes, handing them over to Blaine. "The shirt might be a little big," he said. "And the pants a little long, but they're the smallest I could find."

Blaine nodded and accepted the clothes with his good arm, glancing down at his arm in the sling awkwardly.

How exactly was he supposed to get a shirt on with only one good arm?

"Umm," he said after a moment of just staring at the clothes pile in his hands. "I – I might need a little help."

Kurt glanced down at his sling before understanding. "Oh," he said. "Um…come to the bathroom."

Blaine nodded and followed Kurt into the bathroom. Kurt set the clothes down on the closed toilet before turning to Blaine, slowly taking his sling off.

"Just – don't jostle your arm too much, alright?"

Blaine nodded, the feeling of his arm practically limp next to him frightening him a little. At least when it was in the sling, it was just like he had a broken arm or something. But when it wasn't, the fact that he could barely move it plastered itself in Blaine's mind.

Kurt slowly unfolded the t-shirt he had grabbed Blaine, setting it down before reaching out tentatively and unbuttoning his jacket, slowly sliding it off. He then grabbed the hem of Blaine's shirt, hesitantly pausing and looking up at Blaine. "Is this okay?" He asked.

Blaine nodded, so Kurt slowly began raising it up. Blaine looped his good arm out of the hole, Kurt gently tugging it over his head and then slowly sliding it down his good arm, careful not to jostle it too much. Kurt picked up the discarded shirt and jacket, carefully folding them and placing them in a separate pile. He picked up the t-shirt and then turned back to Blaine, his eyes roaming his broadly defined chest a little. Blaine smirked, noting the small blush on Kurt's cheeks as he took in his broad shoulders, the large muscles that extended from his biceps, the –

"Oh my god," Kurt whispered, his eyes widening.

Blaine followed his gaze, leading directly to the wound from where the bullet had impaled him.

"You – you were shot," Kurt whispered, his eyes wide and panicked.

"It's war, Kurt," Blaine said. "Stuff like that happens."

Kurt gulped, but his eyes remained fixed on the small hole in Blaine's shoulder. "It – is it okay?"

Blaine nodded, knowing that the wound looked worse than it actually was. "I should probably get to the doctor's for it, just to make sure it isn't infected," he said. "But the only lasting damage is that my arm is now partially immobile."

"Is that why you were discharged?" Kurt asked softly.

Blaine nodded slowly. "You can't quite hold a gun with one arm."

Kurt slowly regained his composure, but his eyes still wandered to Blaine's wound every now and then. He slowly lifted the shirt over Blaine's head, Blaine pulling his one arm through as Kurt gently lifted his injured one into the hole.

"Why isn't it wrapped or anything?" Kurt whispered once the shirt was on.

"Once they get the bleeding to stop, there's really no reason for them to continue wrapping it gauze," Blaine said. "Especially after I got my discharge. They could have cared less if my arm fell off."

"That's awful," Kurt said softly.

"It's not all butterflies and daisies over there, Kurt," Blaine said softly, his eyes never leaving the frightened boy's face.

Kurt looked up to Blaine's expression, his eyes wide and panicked.

And then Blaine remembered that his brother had just been deployed, and he realized that he really shouldn't have been saying all of these things.

"Kurt," Blaine rushed out. "I'm sorry – I – Finn'll be fine. He'll be okay."

"You can't know that," Kurt whispered. "He – He could get shot. But – But he might not be as lucky as you."

"He still has a few months of training before he even goes into combat," Blaine said, trying to calm the boy down. "And, if he takes his leaves, he'll be back before then, too."

"If he takes his leaves?"

Blaine gulped, slowly taking his pants off in order to replace them with the baggy sweatpants Kurt had given him. "I didn't," Blaine whispered, gently replacing his sling and walking out of the bathroom, settling back onto Kurt's couch.

"Why not?"

"I had nothing to come back for."

Kurt fell silent after that, and Blaine could feel his eyes on him. If someone would have told him that he would be sitting in a stranger's living room, pouring his soul out to them, he would have laughed and suggested they visit a mental asylum.

"What does Finn have to come back to?"

Blaine looked up at Kurt, whose eyes were worried. "You," he said simply. "If he didn't care about you, he wouldn't have asked me to look out for you."

The doorbell rang then, Kurt grabbing a wad of cash and quickly paying for the pizza.

The smell wafted throughout the room, Blaine briefly considering stealing one of the boxes out of Kurt's hand and just devouring the whole thing.

"Come and eat," Kurt said from the kitchen. "I can hear you drooling from in here."