Disclaimer: Glee belongs to Ryan Murphy and Fox, not me.

He was lost.

That was the only explanation. He was lost. Absolutely, totally, completely lost.

Blaine took a deep breath and tried to think rationally. "I came from over there," he said, his voice sounding too loud in the quiet of the jungle. "So…if I head back that way, then maybe I…"

He froze, his voice trailing off. A leopard crouched on a low-hanging branch about ten yards away, eyeing him greedily.

He took a hesitant step back. The leopard crouched further, inching closer to him. Blaine swallowed hard. He couldn't think of a single plausible way to get himself out of this.

Here lies Blaine Anderson, he thought grimly. Mauled to death by a leopard because he was dumb enough to wander off on his own and get lost.

Suddenly the leopard lunged. Blaine braced himself, his eyes flying shut, but the blow never arrived.

Something screamed, and he opened his eyes to see the leopard in the clearing ahead of him, circling around a boy. For a second he nearly he called out, relieved to see a friend, but he did a doubletake. There was no way it could be anyone he knew.

The boy in the clearing was tall and slim, his bare chest and arms shaped with firm muscle. Faint white scar lines crisscrossed his tanned skin; his golden brown hair was unkempt and curling shaggily around his ears and forehead. He bared his white teeth in a snarl at the leopard, who snapped at him. Blaine flinched, but the fearless boy flung himself forward.

He pressed himself back against the trunk of a tree. He should run. He should get out of there. But he couldn't just leave the boy behind.

He watched the fight in slack-jawed awe, staring helplessly as the boy fought off the leopard. For a second he thought the animal would be run off, but in a split second the leopard flipped the boy onto his back and clawed at his face. The boy screamed, sounding more angry than scared.

In a split second, without realizing what he was doing, Blaine snatched up a good-sized rock and flung it at the leopard. It struck the cat square between the eyes and it stumbled back, yowling, The boy leaped up and stabbed at it, hissing. He stood over the leopard, glaring at him with his fists clenched, and then jerked his head up to stare at Blaine.

Blaine's heart clenched. The boy's eyes were a brilliant shade of blue, flecked heavily with green and gray and gold. Sunlight filtered through the leaves overhead, catching the tips of his long lashes and touching them with gold. "You saved me," he breathed.

The boy dropped his weapon and took a hesitant step towards Blaine, his bare feet making no sound. Blaine glanced down and immediately looked back up; the boy was barely covered except for a scrap of cloth around his waist and streaks of dirt and blood over his skin. "Hi," he stammered. "Hi, I'm…I'm Blaine."

He immediately felt stupid.

The boy reached out and poked Blaine's chest, then looked at him quizzically as he placed his hand on Blaine's collarbone. "Do you…do you speak English?" he asked. "You know…English?"

The boy shook his head, his fingertips warm as he stroked the soft hollow of Blaine's throat. "Do you understand me?" he asked.

The boy shrugged, still examining Blaine closely. He pressed a little nearer and toyed with the buttons on his shirt. One of them popped free of the buttonhole and he smiled widely, pleased as a child. He ran his hands over the soft cotton of Blaine's shirt, feeling the seams and the soft bumps of his ribs beneath the fabric, then busily poked at the buttons until they slipped free.

"All right, all right, enough of that," Blaine chided, catching him gently by the wrist as his shirt fell open. The boy frowned, baring his teeth in displeasure. "No, I'm not mad at you, I just think you're…moving a little fast, is all." He smiled a little at his own joke. "What's your name?"

The boy said nothing, busying himself with the cuffs of Blaine's shirt, rolling and unrolling them and smiling to himself. "Stop that," Blaine said softly. He tilted the boy's chin up gently. "Do you understand me at all? Anything?"

The boy blinked.

"Can you talk?" Blaine asked. He gestured at his mouth. "Talk?"

The boy's eyes lit up. He took Blaine's hand and pressed it to his throat, then shook his head. "Oh," Blaine said. "Oh, you can't talk. I'm sorry." He paused and tilted the boy's chin a little further. "You're bleeding."

The leopard's claws had left several long scratches along the side of the boy's cheek and neck, sluggishly dripping blood along his sun-kissed skin. The boy whined, trying to pull away, but Blaine fumbled around in his pocket for his handkerchief. "Here, here, hold still," he soothed, pressing the cloth to the boy's cheek. The slim brunet froze, staring at him with wide childlike eyes. Blaine smiled at him. "You're all right."

"Blaine? Blaine!"

The ground shook with his friends' heavy footsteps and the boy crouched, preparing to tear away. "No, no, stay with me, stay with me," he said, catching the boy around his waist. The boy wailed, biting down hard on his arm. "Ow! Stop it!"

Wes and David burst through the thick foliage. "Oh my god, where have you been, Anderson?" Wes demanded. "We've been looking for you everywhere!"

"Who the hell is that?" David said.

"I don't know," Blaine said, struggling to hold onto the boy. "He saved me from a leopard. I don't know who he is or where he came from. And he can't talk. I don't-"

"Wait," Wes said suddenly. The boy was still struggling in Blaine's grasp; he hadn't acknowledged the two of them yet. Wes eyed the boy curiously, then took a few steps back and clapped his hands once.

"What are you doing?" David asked.

Wes clapped his hands again. The boy still tried to pull away from Blaine. "I don't think he can hear," he said slowly. "I think he's deaf."

"What? Are you serious?" Blaine stammered.

Wes leaned in close and clapped right in front of the boy's face, nearly pinching his nose. The boy spat at him. "Well, what do you think?" he said.

"Where do you think he came from?" David asked, his voice hushed. "There aren't any villages around here."

"A blue-eyed white boy? I seriously doubt he's a native," Wes said. He exhaled slowly. "He's probably a victim of a shipwreck or a plane accident."

"You think?" Blaine said. The boy was shaking in his arms, terrified and furious. "Okay, look, let's get him back to the campsite. We can't just leave him out here."

"Fine," Wes said. "But he's sharing your tent. He's your responsibility now."

"Wes, he's not a puppy," David said dryly.

"We didn't come here to babysit a feral wild child, we came here to research," Wes retorted.

The boy trembled, his bare back pressed against Blaine's chest. "We can argue about this later," Blaine said. He wrapped an arm tightly around the boy's waist and guided him out of the clearing. "Let's just go, okay?"

The boy fought him every step of the way. Blaine had to hold onto him tightly and prod him through the thick trees on their way back. His arms ached from holding onto the boy, and his shins were peppered with bruises from getting kicked. "Stop fighting me!" he said as he dragged the boy into the campsite. He stopped and sighed. "I forgot. You can't hear me."

The boy whined, the sound scraping the back of his throat. "What are you going to do with him?" David asked.

"I don't…I don't really know," Blaine said, bewildered. "I just…how can we help him?"

"Get him cleaned up and fed," David suggested. He glanced over his shoulder. "I'll talk to Wes about it. He's not going to like it if you decide to keep him."

"You make him sound like he's some kind of pet," Blaine retorted.

"Blaine, we've been here for a month with absolutely nothing out of the ordinary," David said. "And now, with three days left till we leave, you find a feral boy that you want to adopt."

Blaine rolled his eyes. "Are you going to help me with him or not?" he asked.

"Nope, he's all yours," David said cheerfully. "Good luck."

The boy whined again, trying to pull away. "Come on," Blaine said. "Let's get you cleaned up." He caught the boy by the hand and squeezed tightly. "Just trust me, all right?"

The boy looked down at their clasped hands and stopped struggling. He followed Blaine obediently to the shoreline near the campsite, holding on tightly.

Blaine smiled encouragingly at him as they approached the pool. "Come on," he said, crooking his finger. The boy hesitated.

Blaine slid out of his socks and shoes, leaving them on the shoreline. They'd hadn't had access to a real shower in the past month that they'd been on the island, and they'd used the small pool for bathing since they got there. He pulled his bag of toiletries out of the small locker they kept on the shorelines and shrugged out of his shirt. "Come on, let's get in the water," he said, holding out his hand again.

The boy hesitantly took his hand again and allowed Blaine to lead him in, the clear blue water splashing around their ankles. He slipped free and slid into the water, gliding effortlessly along the surface. Blaine paused to watch him, admiring the smoothness of his back.

The boy paused, turning in the water to look at him. He tilted his head and splashed at Blaine, laughing. The sound was soft and tuneless, but it made Blaine's heart thunk against his ribs.

"Oh, so that's how you want to do this?" Blaine teased. He followed him into the water, letting it wash over his knees and hips, and splashed back at him, drenching the boy's hair. He shrieked at him. "Hey, you can't dish it out if you can't take it."

The boy swam back towards him, eyeing him hungrily. Blaine leaned back and smiled. "Why are you looking at me like that?" he asked.

The boy slipped closer to him, drops of water clinging to his lashes and the ends of his hair. He smiled at Blaine, a faint dimple popping in his cheek, and reached out to cup a hand around Blaine's ear. Blaine stayed very still as the boy's questioning fingertips moved across his face, touching his nose and his cheek and his chin. His fingers plucked lightly at Blaine's mouth, pulling his lower lip down. Blaine laughed softly.

"Haven't you ever seen another person before?" he asked. The boy shrugged, reaching up to toy with Blaine's unruly curls.

Blaine caught his hand gently and pressed it to his lips. "Blaine," he said clearly. The boy wriggled in Blaine's grip, but he held firm until the boy's blue eyes were locked on his. "My name is Blaine."

The boy mimicked the movements of his mouth without making any sound. He slipped a little in the water and Blaine caught him around his waist. "It's okay," he said. "I'm going to help you get cleaned up, okay?" He cupped a little water in his hand and drizzled it over the boy's hair; he whimpered and tried to pull away.

"No, it's okay," Blaine soothed. He soaked the boy's thick greasy hair and leaned over to pick up the bottle of shampoo on the shoreline. The boy grabbed at the bottle and scowled. "No, no, it's nice. Here, smell it."

He clicked the bottle open and nudged it towards the boy's nose. The boy sniffed at it, then looked up and smiled. "Yeah, it's nice, right?" Blaine said. He pried the bottle from his hands and squirted a little bit into his palm, then rubbed his hands together till it lathered up. "Here, just hold still, all right?"

To his surprise, the boy submitted easily to Blaine's gentle ministrations. He washed his hair and rinsed it clean, then soaped up a washcloth and scrubbed his skin clean. Under the layer of blood and grime his skin was surprisingly fair, sun-blushed and faintly scarred in spots.

"How did you end up here, hm?" Blaine murmured, rinsing the soap from the boy's arm. "What happened to you?"

The boy laughed again as Blaine rinsed the back of his neck, high and musical but still unsettlingly off, and Blaine helped him out of the water and onto the shore. Kurt shivered a little, water dribbling off his lithe body, and Blaine picked up his towel to drape around him. He looked like a child, hiding in the depths of the towel. His inquisitive fingers smoothed along the edge of the terrycloth.

"Hey, he's looking better," David commented as he walked by.

"He's cleaner, at least," Blaine said, toweling the boy's hair. "Do you have any scissors? He needs a haircut."

"Yeah, I'll get it," David said. "Wes is putting dinner together. He isn't happy about this, but I've talked him into letting us keep your little friend."

"He's not a pet, David," Blaine said. "He's a human being. And we need to take him back to the States. He might have family looking for him."

David sighed. "You take care of him, I'll see if I can talk Wes into it," he said.

The boy dropped the towel in the dirt and started to walk away. "No, no, no," Blaine scolded, catching him around his waist. "Let's get you dressed, all right?"

The boy howled; Blaine gritted his teeth and walked him over to his tent. "I don't know what you're used to, but your junk is sort of…just hanging out there," he said. He zipped the flap shut and rummaged around in his duffel bag for some clean clothes.

"Here," he said, handing him a pair of boxers. "I know, sharing underwear, it's kind of weird, but I figure you need it."

The boy took the boxers and stared at them blankly, then looked up at Blaine, arching an eyebrow. Blaine laughed awkwardly. "Yeah…I guess you don't know how to put them on, do you?" he said. He sidled a little closer. "Here, let me help."

He reached over tentatively and plucked lightly at the strings on the boy's slender hips. The meager covering slid off; the boy regarded him coolly, clearly unashamed. Blaine averted his gaze as he helped him into the boxers. They were at least a size too big, but they would do.

"Here, um…try this," Blaine said, handing him a pair of shorts. The boy took them gingerly and looked at Blaine skeptically. "It's like the boxers, but it goes over…here. Just let me help."

He knelt down and helped him into the shorts. The boy rested a hand lightly on his shoulder and watched in fascination as Blaine pulled the waistband up around his hips and fastened them. His slim fingers plucked at the zipper and button.

"Hey, hey, hey, leave those on," Blaine said. He picked up a mostly-clean button up shirt. "Here. Put your arms out."

The boy frowned. Blaine guided his arms into the sleeves and drew the shirt around his shoulders. "That'll work," he said, pleased. He reached up and touched the boy's damp silky hair. "Now we need to give you a haircut."

He led the boy out of the tent. Wes was waiting outside, fuming. "David says you want to keep it," he said.

"Him," Blaine corrected. "He's not an animal."

"He might as well be!" Wes retorted. "He's feral, Blaine. Who knows how long he's been out here? We're not equipped to take care of him, and cleaning him up and putting him in clothes isn't going to fix anything."

The boy scowled at Wes, leaning towards him. Blaine squeezed his hand lightly in an attempt to calm him down. "He's been separated from his family," he said. "We need to find out how he got lost, and see if we can take him home."

Wes sighed and rubbed his forehead. "Can't we just leave him here and send someone back for him?" he asked.

"No," Blaine said firmly. "I'm not leaving without him. I won't."

Author's Notes:

This was inspired by a drawing that Plumey drew and I LOVED it. And I posted it on Tumbled. And then other people loved it! So ergo, all the feral!deaf!jungle!Kurt (oh lordy, that's a tag) drabbles will go here! They won't be in order, but hopefully you'll like them!

(Also, please don't leave me reviews saying "OMG you've posted this already, assbutt." Because I knooooow.)

Also can I just say that I love this version of Kurt? Because I do. I love him.