Hey guys! Here is my new story. I wanted to write something more serious than I usually do.

I started a new job and am looking into doing a massage course, so I have been busy lately. But when Im not, Im the laziest person I know, I didnt even get changed out of my PJ's today.

I recieved a message today asking about when Mother Dearest will be updated. Soon! Im trying but those chapters are really long!

Anyway please enjoy

Love Squiggle

They stood there, holding each other so tightly in their arms, silent tears cascading down their cheeks with the knowledge that they won't get to experience this feeling for another six months. Blaine was leaving for Afghanistan, to work as a part of a bomb disposal squadron while Kurt would be left behind in New York, waiting anxiously for his husband to return home safely. The countertenor had been dreading the day Blaine had to leave and now it was here. They had been embracing each other in the airport for the last five minutes, knowing they didn't have long until the soldier had to board. Of course they had spent many days saying out loud how much they would miss each other and how they couldn't wait to see each other again. But now, there was no need for words, just the closeness they shared was enough.

"Anderson!" Blaine was being summoned to board the plan. Kurt hugged him tighter before leaning back and kissing him one last time.

"Go save the world ok," Kurt told quietly as tear streamed down his face. Blaine smiled sadly, kissing his forehead before hoisting his duffle bag on his shoulder and walking to his commanding officer and following him on to the plane.

The countertenor sat near the window wall and watched planes depart for an hour. He knew that his husband was long gone but he couldn't leave the airport just yet, no if he left that would make it real, that he wouldn't see Blaine for six months and he just wasn't ready for that.

It had been a month since Blaine was gone. He missed his husband but not for the obvious reasons such as intimacy. He missed coming home from work and lounging around until the other man returned, cooking dinner together or just giving up and ordering take out. But something he couldn't get used to was how quiet the apartment was. Where was the ever present noise of Blaine talking or singing, the drumming of wooden spoons on pots as he cooked dinner or when he suddenly had an idea and would shake Kurt awake in the middle of the night and tell him, everything. The countertenor settled on the couch and turned on the TV for some background noise to make him not feel so alone. Maybe he should get a dog or something?

Kurt was having a pretty good day, he and Rachel had spent the day together shopping and eating; mainly to keep the countertenor's mind preoccupied. It had been three months since Blaine had been gone and he was still finding it hard. It was difficult but he was managing, just. The soldier would ring twice a week if he could, with the occasional letter in the mail. He knew he was busy with his platoon, but his job was high risk and not knowing if he was ok or… alive was unnerving.

Kurt opened the door to his apartment, bumping it closed with his hip as he entered, unceremoniously dropping his shopping bags on the floor as he went. It was only a few shirts and he was sure that his new biker boots would certainly last if they were dropped, if not he would just buy another pair. The countertenor turned the TV on, force of habit before heading to the kitchen for a glass of water. He heard the news anchor reporting on some recent celebrity gossip as he made a snack. Afterwards he exited the kitchen making his way to the couch when he saw the 'Breaking News' banner flash on the screen.

"This just in," the reporter started "it had just been confirmed that soldier Blaine Anderson has been confirmed dead." Kurt started choking on the food he was currently eating, stared animatedly at the TV and moved closer to the screen.

"Earlier today, six American soldiers were on a routine patrol when their Humvee was ambushed by members of the Taliban who were threatening to attack." The countertenor didn't know he was crying by this point, his mind was too focused on the information he was hearing.

"Other soldiers sustained non-life threatening injuries whilst Major General Anderson was violently pushed onto an undetected homemade bomb, dying on impact. More information on this story at six o'clock," then the screen changed to a commercial before a picture of his husband flashed on the screen. He was so beautiful, adorned in his uniform with his ever present grin on his face. Kurt started hitting the television, screaming and shouting for them to show the image again before he broke down and cried. He feared this would happen but he let him go because it was his dream and there was no way he was going to stand in his way and tell him what he could and couldn't do.

Eventually he rang his dad, hoping that he could gain some comfort. As his phone rang he couldn't find out why the military hadn't rung or visited him to tell him, it was protocol after all. He took a deep breath to try and compose himself for the conversation.

"Hummel Tyre and Lube; Burt speaking."

"Daddy… h-he's he's," Kurt couldn't breathe; he couldn't say the words out loud.

"Kurt? Is that you? What's wrong?" Kurt heard his father telling one of his employees that he was going to his office. "Kiddo you need to take a deep breath, I can't understand a word you are saying."

"Blaine," he whined.

"What about Blaine?" Burt asked. Kurt spent the next twenty minutes trying to explain to his father that his husband had been killed. It would have taken less time he hadn't started hyperventilating and crying and just being s broken wreck of human being.

"Kurt I'm not going to say that everything will be ok because it won't be and people who say it will be don't know and are full of shit," Kurt couldn't help but laugh, his dad never swore and it sounded funny coming from him. "I've been through this before, so if you need to cry then cry. Deal with it in your own way and don't feel pressured to move on if you aren't ready." The countertenor was about to reply when he heard the beeping of an incoming call.

"Dad I have to take this ok, it might be from the Military. I love you."

"I love you too kiddo." He quickly ended the phone call answered the other line. He heard static when he answered.

"Hello?"

"Hey babe," Blaine spoke cheerfully. Kurt's jaw dropped and glared at the phone like it had offended him.

"Whoever you are this is not funny! I don't know what kind of sick joke this is-"

"Woah, woah Kurt calm down. What is going on?"

"You're dead!" Kurt accused. "I saw it on the news, you were killed by the Taliban and now someone has recorded your voice and is playing some sick joke on me." Blaine was quiet then he heard his husband shuffling around. There was soon shouting and cursing, a few minutes the soldier returned to the phone.

"Kurt honey I'm so sorry but I have to go and figure this out ok, just know I love you so much and I'm not dead. Very much alive even," Blaine tried to joke but it was lost on Kurt.

"I thought you were dead, that I would only get so see you again in a coffin. I'm not ready to lose you yet, not ever," Kurt declared.

"I love you too, so much. I will call you later when this is sorted."

It was two days before Kurt heard from his husband again. There had been a miscommunication between the military and the news reporters, apparently Blaine hadn't even been on the patrol; he was stationed at another camp all together. A man named Ben Adamson who was tragically murdered, Kurt was planning on attending the funeral regardless of the situation.

The military had been outraged at the situation; Kurt sued them for the harm that they had caused him and his family. After three months of a cruelling court case, the countertenor had earned quite a large pay out that he could probably not work for five years and still live comfortably.

Now two weeks before Blaine was due to arrive home, he received a phone call that he was not expecting.

Kurt waited proudly at the arrival gate in the airport, standing with a plethora of other families as they too were waiting for their soldiers to return to them. He had arrived an hour before the plane was due to arrive; he didn't want to miss his arrival. The countertenor was constantly watching for any sign of the unmistakable army green. He had decided against making a sign and holding it up in an obnoxious manner, deciding that he would wait until his husband was settled and comfortable before embarrassing him.

Ten minutes later, several soldiers emerged but he couldn't see his soldier. He watched fondly as tough and menacing men break down and be reduced to tears as them embraced their loved ones. Then he saw him, his hair was shorter than it usually was, he looked exhausted and the suspicious bandage on his neck didn't bode well with him. When Blaine saw him, his eyes lit up and ran to Kurt like some cliché movie scene which the countertenor secretly loved. He was lifted off the ground and spun around, Kurt squealing with delight and slight fear. Blaine placed him back on the ground and kissed him passionately, something he had missed for the entire six months. They reluctantly leant out of the kiss and rested their foreheads together, yes they hadn't seen each other for what felt like years, yes they were in New York but they wanted to be respectful to other people around them. they smiled at each with a stupid blissful grin but neither cared.

"Your face is scratchy," Kurt mumbled fondly, stroking his husband's cheek to which he laughed.

"That's the first thing you say to me," he said fondly.

"I missed you so much."

"That's better," Blaine whispered and kissed the other man again. Next to them, a couple walked off an noticed that they had left their baby stroller behind. When he tried to tell them, the countertenor smiled at him. He leant in and cradled a small child in his arms; it couldn't have been more than two months old.

"Blaine this is Marc, our son," Kurt informed to which he received a look of disbelief. The soldier silently asked if he was serious, the countertenor nodded before handing over the tiny boy. Blaine was used to dealing with delicate items, he disarmed bombs for a living, but this was different. Gently he held the baby, carefully that he didn't drop him.

"I got a phone call about a month ago," he explained, not sure if his husband was listening as he was enraptured by his son. "they said that they had a child for us if we wanted him, of course I said yes. He was a month old when they gave him to me, it was difficult doing it on my own but we managed. I wanted to keep it a surprise for you- Blaine are you crying?"

"I just, never thought that this would ever happen. Come on; let's go home, I haven't eaten a decent meal in months."

The three of them collected Blaine's belongings and left the airport, immensely glad that the soldier was safe and home; ready to start a new chapter in their life with their son.

So hopefully you enjoyed it. Tell me what you think! I always reply.

If someone knows a someone who can edit my stories let me know.

If you know any good stories too let me know