Written for Klaine Hiatus Madness week! Link: drblaine*tumblr*com/post/53261995281/klaine-hiatus -madness-week-june-24th-to-june

Day three- 'Life's a Beach'. I did something kinda different with this one, hope you like it! It's army!Blaine, as prompted a few days ago. (And yesterday as well, but I saw it only after writing this. Huh)

I hope I did enough research (especially on terminology- English not being my first language sucks sometimes) for this one. If I still got anything wrong, please let me know. Keep in mind that the terms used are common in the US navy, and maybe not all around the world.

Going Home at Sunset

Blaine reached the end of the dock and stepped off it, dangling his legs down into his submarine. Just before he dropped himself completely in it, he caught a glance of the beautiful, vibrant-colored sunset.

The memories it brought were a punch to his gut- memories of him and Kurt on their honeymoon, lying on a beach just like the one he left a moment ago, cuddling together against the strong winds, drinking wine and laughing like they had all the time in the world. Because they did.

He landed in the sub with practiced grace, walking to his seat with his shoulders bowed and sinking into it heavily. When he sat, he palmed the thick piece of paper- piece of Kurt- in the chest pocket of his military uniform. It held a promise of home, of Kurt waiting him there. It held words of love and devotion and god, he missed Kurt.

Just that noon, the water, through the wide glass walls of his prison and home (his sub), were precisely the color of Kurt's eyes. None of the soldiers in his section blamed him for crumbling, busting in tears.

Soon, so soon he could feel in his bones.

Deep down, although he couldn't find it in himself to tell Sergeant Wilson yet, he knew this was it. He served his country for long enough- it was time he served his own needs, which primarily included Kurt. Home.

God, he wanted to be home.

He looked around at his brothers (and two sisters) in arms. They were all tired as himself, the women's hair matted and the men growing beards. Just like him, some of them were clutching letters or pictures of husbands and wives and children and parents.

He sighed, staring into the darkening water without seeing, when they departed and began sailing home.

Home…