A/N: I'm sorry that this first part is painful, but it is reality for far too many young people. If you have the resources, please support shelters for homeless youth in your community, so they don't have to turn to illegal and dangerous methods to support themselves.

Ch 1

Blaine sat in a squat with his arms around his knees with his back against the building, trying not to let his ass touch the damp ground and get his pants wet on top of everything else. He was tired from shivering all day, the bone deep damp having penetrated through his clothes after hours in the cold drizzle, even though he was trying to stay dry under the shelter of the eaves of the building. He didn't have any idea of the name of the anonymous restaurant. God knows, all the dumpsters in this alley had the same rank smell. He wondered tiredly where the hell he was going to sleep tonight. He couldn't risk his guitar getting wet while the sky kept leaking tears the way it was.

That guitar was his only hope of getting some money for tomorrow's dinner and the day it got ruined or the strings gave up the ghost he was screwed, since there were no shelters for homeless youth in this hell hole of a town. For the last four days he had been sleeping in the park under the picnic shelter, which was drafty and chilly, but at least it wasn't on the damp ground. So far, he'd had no luck scavenging a meal from one of the restaurants in the commercial area of town. Normally he would have set up his guitar case in front of him on the sidewalk and sung some tunes, hoping for a few coins or even a bill or two, but the wind and rain were keeping people indoors tonight.

It was getting dark already, the lowering clouds making it seem much later. The spring days were getting longer and warmer but occasionally, like tonight, there was still a nip in the air to remind you it was barely June.

The restaurant door crashed open, startling Blaine and making him duck down in the gloom, hoping whoever it was wouldn't notice him and chase him away. He needn't have worried. The elderly oriental man struggling with his heavy load of cardboard wasn't paying any attention to the dim alleyway. He made his way to the dumpster and with a visible pause while he gathered the pile to his lap, then with a mighty heave, flung it into the bin. He wiped his hands together, mentally congratulating himself and returned into the building. This must be Wong's Chow then, Blaine decided, the Chinese place.

An idea struck Blaine, making him warily approach the dumpster after a glance around to make sure nobody was around. Luckily, the boxes had been folded into a tidy pile instead of being cut into pieces, which meant they would still be functional. None of them were big enough on their own, but there were three that could be stuck one inside the other in a row to provide some shelter from the damp and cold.

He took hold of them firmly, the stack heavier than he thought they would be, as he hefted them onto his shoulder, but at least that meant they were sturdy. He glanced back to the wall and saw his guitar case and sighed. How the hell was he going to carry everything? He went back to the wall and, propped the cardboard pile against the dry bricks, pulled out the shoelaces from his soggy runners and fashioned a makeshift shoulder strap to sling the guitar across his shoulder. Then he awkwardly lifted the heavy pile onto his shoulder, and began his long trek to the park.

The wind kept trying to make a sail out of his pile and it was a constant struggle to keep them from wrenching his arms and cutting into his neck but eventually he made it…home. He built his fort inside the collection of shrubs planted in a decorative clump behind a plaque commemorating some damn thing he hadn't bothered to read about to avoid anyone finding him. It wasn't easy getting it all in there, but his stubborn streak came in handy sometimes.

He took a moment to straighten his tired back and unclench his cramped fingers, then he took another minute to rub his shoulder to relieve the ache the narrow laces had cut into it. He re-inventoried his cache of personal items. There were three discarded plastic water bottles, refilled at the park's drinking fountain, a box with four remaining of the dozen donuts it had once contained, left behind by the man who had bought them for his kids, and an abandoned mauve towel. He'd stuffed the towel into the duffel bag that contained his dirty laundry to keep it as clean and dry as he could.

A sudden burst of wind made a scatter of icy rain drops land on his neck, making Blaine shiver in reaction. He wanted to get into some shelter before the weather made the long night ahead even ahead more miserable. He quickly folded the flaps of the boxes to make a shelter big enough to contain him, but small enough to keep him warm. He scarfed down a couple of the donuts to hold him over till tomorrow, grateful that at least the damp was keeping them from getting hard as stones and then washed them down with some water.

He used some more of the bottled water to try to clean up a bit before he went to sleep, but a few dribbles of water did little more than clean up his hands a bit. He couldn't do much about his curly hair that got just frigging ridiculous in this damp or his face, now scruffy with stubble after five days without shaving. So far, it still looked kind of pirate rakish but within a few more days he knew he was going to look damn scary, and nobody was going to give him a chance at a job then. He would have to buy some disposable razors as soon as he got enough cash and try to shave in the park's public washrooms.

He carefully tucked himself into the boxes, placed his guitar case at his feet, and then tucked the duffel beside him before he blocked out the light of the street lamp over near the fountain.. He rolled up the towel for a pillow and felt the quiet wrap around him, his faintly grumbling belly and gross unbrushed teeth not bothering him as much tonight. He sighed gratefully and let himself sink into sleep, feeling safer than he had in days.

The day after he'd made his cardboard fort, Blaine was positioned at the fountain again, warily keeping an eye out for the cops. They wouldn't hesitate to tell him to pack up and move along if they caught him busking again. He was playing his guitar and singing some Katy Perry to a crowd of kids and adults when he saw a well-used pickup truck stop in the nearby parking area and two young guys get out of it, a collection of take-out bags and drinks in their hands. One was tall and gangly and the other…oh wow! There were a ton of attractive boys at Dalton, but there was something about this one that made Blaine stare at him in fascination.

Blaine watched the boy take a blanket from behind the seat, laughing and talking to the other boy who was clearly fond of him, since he turned and grinned at him, then came to help him with his packages. The smaller one was a little flamboyant, but he looked strong and agile, and oh man, his ass looked awesome in those skinnys. He was rocking a totally awesome formfitting outfit that set off his gorgeous build as Blaine watched them climb the hill, wishing he was the jock with the gorgeous boyfriend. You didn't see many gay couples in Ohio blatantly walking around together like those two were. It gave him hope that someday he might find somebody of his own to care about, like the incredibly lucky big guy had.

Blaine smiled and sincerely thanked the Mom who gave each of her two little blond kids a quarter to drop into his guitar case, and then started another song. He grinned even more gratefully when a man with a toddler dropped a five. Hallelujah! Lunch! He played 'Under the Sea' for the kids, some of whom sang along, and then went into a Disney medley, which the adults seemed to enjoy too, some singing along joyfully with their kids.

He watched hopefully out of the corner of one eye as another vehicle pulled up in the parking lot, beside the pickup. An older man, with a baseball cap got out. Rats! Middle aged people usually only got into classic rock stuff and that wouldn't fly with the audience he was playing to now. His disappointment faded, since the man didn't come this way anyway, heading up the hill to join the two boys sitting on the blanket. Blaine watched to see if he was going up there to hassle the boys or something.

He nearly blanked on all the words in the song he was playing, when the guy flopped down beside them, rooted around in the bag and pulled out a sandwich, casually chatting with the two boys while he ate, sitting awkwardly beside them on the ground. Awesome! An adult who didn't mind hanging out with two gay guys having a picnic lunch together!

Blaine's audience drifted away a few minutes later except for two little black kids absolutely mesmerized by his music. As long as they wanted to listen, Blaine was going to play for them, so he asked what they wanted to hear and played some Rihanna for them. He wondered where their parents were, until he saw their Grandma, sitting nearby in the shade tapping her toe to the music. After three more songs, the Grandmother dropped a ten in his case and collected the kids, thanking him kindly for his music. Blaine nearly hugged her with gratitude.

It was well after one now by the library clock and the park usually got quiet in the afternoons, while the little kids napped and adults went back to work, so Blaine put his guitar away in the case. He thought about what he should eat...definitely not donuts! The last two had landed like bricks in his stomach this morning. He could spend seven bucks and get a take out burger and fries or he could buy a package of rolls and some deli meat and eat for two days for five. Rolls, it was.

He had brought his duffle bag with him in case he got enough money to stop in at the health club and ask if he could use their showers Now, he could offer them some money for a one day membership, if they were reluctant to let him in. God he needed a shower and a shave desperately because he could tell he was beginning to stink! Smelling gross wouldn't help him at all in his quest for gainful employment.

He noticed the three men on the hill gather their blanket, dump their garbage in a bin and approach him just as he was about to leave. The big guy said "Awesome tunes, dude! Thanks. I really enjoyed your music." Blaine grinned at him and said a soft thank you, though he was reconsidering his first impression, deciding the big guy was straight when he only looked at Blaine's face. It always felt good when somebody took the time to thank him, especially someone around his own age. The gorgeous boy stayed in the background, his eyes flicking over Blaine quickly, without being obvious. Blaine knew the technique. Straight guys got pissed off if they thought you were checking them out.

Blaine wanted to connect with these two, but didn't want to alienate the older man. Maybe they all worked together or something. Now that they were closer Blaine could see that the tall one and the older man both had coveralls on, with their names imprinted on them. "I'm glad you liked it. Same time, same channel tomorrow, if you want to come back." He smiled at the shy boy in the back and got a smile in return that nearly paralyzed him. Geeze, he was so freaking cute!

"Should you be busking in the park? I thought there was a law against that." The older man interrupted, with a tone that didn't want to offend but seemed curious about why he was here.

"I…Um. Sorry… I didn't know. I just wanted to entertain the kids. I wasn't expecting anybody to tip me." Blaine improvised quickly, followed with an ingratiating smile.

Burt had seen several people dropping money in his case and the kid looked too grubby around the edges to be doing anything but busking for cash. Was he trying to earn money to eat? On an impulse, he decided to see what happened if he offered him a job.

"Sure thing, buddy. Say, if you have some spare time, I could use a hand at the shop today. We got a load of tires that need to be put in the stock room and my regular guys are kind of busy. If you wanted to help me out I could pay you ten bucks an hour." Burt made the offer nonchalantly, his hands stuck casually into his pockets and his hat tipped back, all but chewing a straw to look as non-threatening as possible.

Finn's forehead wrinkled up in confusion. Wasn't that his job this afternoon? "Burt, I don't need…"

"I have another job for you Finn." Burt interrupted. Finn shrugged agreeably. Fine... whatever.

Kurt was watching his father, having some idea of what he was doing. The boy in the park playing his guitar looked like he was going through a rough patch. There was some grass sticking out of his wildly curly hair and his red sweater looked rather grubby around the sleeves. The jeans hid any dirt, since they were dark wash but his shoes looked damp and a faint odor of unwashed body drifted on the light breeze.

"I…yes, please! I would love to help out at your shop. Yes, thank you." The kid couldn't get out his agreement fast enough, an eager hopefulness transforming his face.

Burt nodded. "Okay, great. You can ride back with me. And you two" Burt turned to skewer them with a gimlet stare. "are late already. See you back at the shop." Kurt and Finn glanced at each other and silently went back to Finn's truck. Burt led the way to his truck, not looking back to see if the boy followed him. Why did he feel like he had just rescued a stray puppy?