A/N: This is a short chapter, because I'm working on something else right now. It cuts off a bit abruptly but don't worry, I'll make up for it in my next chapter. ;) Thanks for everyone that subscribed - I didn't think anyone would and I'm amazed at how many people did! So the pressure is on to keep writing now!

I hope you enjoy it!

It's nights like these Kurt thinks about his family, his friends … all the people he left behind when he was called up to assist the army. As he sits outside his tent, staring up at the murky black sky, fogged up with smoke and the result of gun fire in the east, he's – once again – wondering about the point of this.

This war, the meaningless deaths, the pain and loss … It's all for nothing. It's pointless and –

"Hey."

Kurt looks up, expecting another nurse or – worse – a general. The general's seem to get mad at his very existence, but in the one or two cases that they've found Kurt out of bed, they don't hold back in the punishment. Instead, Kurt squints through the darkness and is shocked to see the blonde hair of the soldier from earlier. Sam Evans.

Kurt jumps to his feet, not feeling the slightest bit drowsy despite the time of night … He doesn't sleep much, these days. It's the constant noise of the night. It gets to him. He's afraid of his peers and bosses. Fear is the poison of sleep, it drains away all hopes of escaping this war and the devastation that comes with it.

"You're meant to be resting!" Kurt splutters, letting his eyes trail over the beaten soldier. He's wearing a tight, white, tank top - the army supplies hundreds of them - and, oh god, he wears it well. Kurt can't help but stare, just for a second, at the subtle definition of muscles in Sam's forearm, he has to suppress his impulse of trailing his fingers along the tanned, hard, skin.

Sam just shrugs, reaching into the pocket of his cargo pants and pulling out a pack of cigarettes. "Do you smoke?" He asks, placing a smoke between those full lips.

Kurt shakes his head, watching intently as Sam sucks the cigarette, huffing smoke out of his nose. "You really should be in bed," he comments. Even in the darkness, Kurt can see the bags under Sam's eyes, the cut in his swollen cheek looks like it may be infected and only in the reflection of the moonlight can Kurt see a faded scar on the curve of Sam's neck. It looks like the ever-lasting reminder of battle and Sam is the kind of man to wear his scars with pride, Kurt can tell. It's funny, because Kurt has a scar similar to that on his own neck, of course his scar is the result of a broken mirror, and a curious albeit clumsy child - he has no pride over how he received it, nothing like Sam.

"I feel fine, nurse." Sam smirks. "Besides, I saw you leaving the sleeping cabins and couldn't resist following you out."

Kurt looks down, suppressing the blush that is flaming across his cheeks. Stop being an idiot, he tells himself firmly, you have a job to do - that's all it is. A job. He wants nothing more than to talk with Sam, find out everything about the attractive soldier - pick his brains - but, as Kurt has found in the past, soldiers like Sam rarely want anything to do with him.

"Well, don't let anyone see you talking to me," Kurt says quietly.

Sam raises an eyebrow, letting the smoke filter through his lips and scratching at some of his messy blonde hair wincing slightly as he raises his arm. "Why wouldn't I want to be seen with you?" He grins at Kurt through the darkness. "You're cute."

Oh. Oh. He's never had anyone call him cute before - let alone a smouldering hot, injured, soldier. Kurt's blush deepens further and he looks away, under how to react to the blonde man's compliments. Sam steps closer, careful not to blow smoke in Kurt's face. Kurt can't stand the heat dancing between their bodies, almost moulding them together in the cool spring night.

"T-thank you," he stammers.

Sam steps forward again, the cigarette hanging between his lips, his green eyes settling on Kurt. He continues stepping forward until their bodies are painfully close – already Kurt is aching to be touched, aching to break the unbearable heat of the tension between them. His eyes are trained on Sam's lips, on the trail of smoke erupting from them – it's hypnotising and so goddamn attractive.

"Why are you talking to me?" The words fall from Kurt's mouth before he can stop them. He doesn't want to be nervous and awkward, but the question is out in the air before he has time to pull it back.

Sam hesitates, lifting a hand and pushing back Kurt's hair, letting his fingertips dance along the curve of Kurt's cheek. "You're interesting, Mr. Hummel."

And with that he stomps out his cigarette and walks away.

The heel of Kurt's palm is rubbing against the bulge in his pants and the breath escapes his mouth in fast, gasping pants. He pushes harder, his hips arching against his hand as he aches for the friction he needs to get himself off.

He's thinking about Sam and those full lips. Those arms, covered in scars of battle - proud scars that Kurt wants to run his tongue over. Although, that's not the only part of Sam's body that Kurt wishes he could run his tongue over. He's infatuated by the soldier and he can't blame himself. He's never had someone so handsome show the slightest interest in him - this is a completely new experience. He's imagining those very lips wrapped around his cock in a deliciously seductive way. He grinds against his palm harder, hoping to relieve the throbbing between his legs. He's biting his lip now, trying not to moan as hips move faster against his palm and the images of soldier Sam Evans become more and more prominent in his mind. Lips sucking, hands fucking …

"Oh. Oh god - "

"Hummel? Is that you?"

Kurt has just seconds to jump to his feet and try to disguise his bulging erection before Sam is striding into his sleeping quarters. Oh god, this man knows where he sleeps. How is that even possible? Kurt is caught between that agonizing limbo of falling into his delicious orgasm, he is teetering on the edge and the result is exceedingly painful as his body stiffens in response to the voice. He's on his feet, trying not to double over and trying desperately to suppress his arousal.

Sam stops short, the grin dancing wide across his lips as Kurt attempts to regain control of his breathing. "Am I interrupting something, nurse Hummel?" Sam's eyes are wide and the smile on his lips is appreciative.

Kurt flushes, adjusting his shirt. "No, no, I was just … getting dressed. What are you doing here, anyway? It's early."

Sam lets out a shuddery breath, stepping closer to the flustered nurse and puffing his cheeks out as his eyes rake over Kurt's tense body. "Doesn't look that way, Hummel," he winks. "I'm here because I told you, that they won't let me go back fighting. It's my first day as a medical assistants aid and you are an assistant – a very sexy one, might I add – and you look like you could use some … ah, aid, Kurt."

Kurt almost groans at the way Sam purrs his name. His cock is throbbing, he can already feel the heat building in his stomach from his little moment earlier. The orgasm is fighting it's way through his body, his cock twitching in a constant mixture of pleasure and pain. Sam's eyes flicker to Kurt's crotch and Kurt is sure that Sam knows exactly what is going on.

"I … I don't need any help," Kurt's breath hitches when Sam steps even closer – impossibly close – and slips a finger inside the loop of Kurt's belt, pulling the blushing nurse even closer to him.

This intimacy feels odd after almost a year of being abstinent and Kurt wants to cry with the heat. It's something he's craved for so long ... something he's try so hard not to feel. But now it's here and Sam is standing so close and oh god, those lips are taunting him.

"I think you definitely could use my help, Kurt," Sam breathes, his full lips moving against Kurt's ear lobe. Hot breath dances across Kurt's face as Sam presses his body hard against the smaller man and, yep, Kurt is sure that Sam can feel his straining erection. There's no getting around it now. He's caught. Sam's lips are brushing just softly against the soft skin of Kurt's cheek, and Sam relishes the feeling of Kurt's body shuddering against his own – sending electric shocks crackling up his spine.

"In all honesty, Mr. Hummel," Sam breathes, chasing the rise and fall of Kurt's toned chest with his fingertips, lingering on the sensitive spot of his hip bone before slipping his hand under Kurt's shirt and stroking the exposed skin. Kurt is frozen, his eyes locked on Sam, small breaths fluttering from his lips every few seconds. "I think you would very much appreciate my help."