They make it through to their own five-month anniversary, almost to Kurt's one-year anniversary with the FBI, until it happens.

Things have been going well, surprisingly well. They have solved numerous cases, and even if Tina says that the persistent rumors are still lingering around the White Collar Division, Blaine's team seems to have accepted Kurt as one of their own. Even Blaine's superiors have complimented his team for its solidarity and efficiency. The probies or agents who didn't like working with an ex-con-man have quietly changed divisions or teams, but most of their colleagues have stayed and altered their attitudes. Sure, sometimes one of the younger agents may go a bit far in their teasing remarks about Kurt's areas of expertise, but Kurt can put them swiftly back in their place.

It's still rough leading a double life – having to act professional around the office and then going home together at the end of the day; waking up with tangled limbs and sleepy morning breath kisses and then covering it all up with crisp shirt collars and friendly pats on the back. Sometimes late at night or early in the morning Blaine wakes up to the feeling of cold plastic pressed against his skin where Kurt's left ankle is nudging his own, the monitoring anklet a stark reminder of the reality, of how bad things could be if a wrong person found out about them. Whenever it happens Blaine has to lie awake for a moment, staring at the shadows on the ceiling, listening to Kurt's soft breathing and Perry's snoring, and remind himself that things are good.

That right now, things are good.

Even the relationship between Kurt and Rachel seems better these days. Rachel called only a few days after the show, just like Blaine had a hunch she would, and Kurt went to have lunch with her the next day, his hands shaking with nerves when Blaine wished him good luck as he was leaving. But then Kurt came back with overwhelmed tears in his eyes and told Blaine how both he and Rachel immediately apologized to each other and how, after a few awkward moments and uncomfortable silences, it had been just like old times.

"She said that she had missed me so much," Kurt gasped out, his watery smile making Blaine's heart thud with joy, "and that she was happy for me, for getting out of prison and for... seeming so satisfied with my current life."

Blaine has met Rachel himself, and it's easy to see how she and Kurt became friends in the first place. The few times Blaine has been invited to join them for lunch he has mostly just sat back and watched them talk, a small smile playing on his lips as they argue about Broadway or fashion or anything else. He has noticed that there are some things they don't talk about, just as Kurt doesn't talk about certain things with Blaine, and everything that has happened in nine years can't obviously be settled in only a few meetings, but it's still... nice. Rachel is enthusiastic and passionate; she asks Kurt about his undercover assignments with all the seriousness of an actress and teases him about Blaine, and it's nice to see Kurt getting back something from his past, something that makes him happy.

For Kurt and Blaine's five-month anniversary they all went out for dinner to the restaurant where Santana works – Kurt, Blaine, Sam, Tina, Rachel and Santana, all of them drinking wine and laughing even if most of them met for the first time that night. They are all careful to keep Kurt and Blaine's relationship a secret, so during the dinner they skirted the topic, but it was still a relief to know that they were among friends, among people who know about them and accept them and who won't let them down.

Besides, Kurt and Blaine had their own private celebration later that night, so really, it wasn't that bad.

It's almost as if the things that have always been missing from Blaine's life are finally clicking into place. He has always had his job, has had the comfort of his own apartment, the occasional phone calls from his parents and Perry's silent company – but now he has close friends for the first time in his life since childhood, he has his own team and the most impressive conviction rate in the New York office... and he has Kurt.

He has Kurt in the mornings, with sleepy eyes and mussed hair; he has Kurt during the day, in impeccable suits and giving clever comments about the cases they're working on; and he has Kurt in the evenings, when they curl up on the sofa and watch TV together, or make dinner in Blaine's kitchen, laughing at the way Perry tries to dodge their movements and is obviously wishing for something delicious to fall on the floor. (Blaine always ends up giving her treats, which Kurt doesn't approve of.)

He has Kurt during the night, or at least during most nights; sleeping next to him and hogging the blanket, his face unguarded and his arms wrapped around Blaine's body as he snuffles into the pillow and shifts in his sleep.

So yes, things are good. Kurt still has a little over three years left of his deal, and Blaine thinks that maybe, maybe they can do this – maybe they can keep living the double life for three more years, keep their relationship secret from the FBI and get through all those long days at work, and then Kurt is a free man and they can finally have it all. If no one slips up, they can definitely do this.

Except Blaine himself is the one who slips up.

They are working on a big case that has Peterson making trips to Blaine's office more often than usual just to ask him if they've made any progress. A known antiques smuggler called Joseph Caine is in town, and all the higher-ups are hoping that Blaine's team will be the one to catch him after years and years of narrow escapes and failed arrest plans. Caine is a big player, someone who has smuggled antiques out of practically every major country and has arrest warrants waiting for him in at least four of them, and it has been made very clear that the New York office should do their damn best to catch him with a lot of incriminating evidence while he's in town.

At first the case seems almost too easy – they learn that Caine is looking for a new front-man for himself, someone who can handle his public business while he takes care of things behind the curtains. They send Kurt undercover as a possible candidate, and Blaine gives him a longer pep-talk than usually, reminding him that Caine is known for his temper and high-risk decisions.

Kurt only shrugs and says, "In case you haven't noticed, Blaine, everything I do has its risks," and Blaine knows he isn't just talking about the case.

Kurt walks into the meeting with a smirk on his face, immediately charms Caine with his wittiness and with the way he handles unexpected situations. He gets hired on the spot, and the FBI gets its evidence.

And then the problems start.

First they find out from Kurt's assignments that antiques aren't the only thing Caine has been smuggling in and out of the country. He has a few side businesses that can smuggle almost anything to almost anywhere with the right price, from drugs and money to stolen artworks and forged bonds, which of course means that he has stepped on someone else's turf. According to the Organized Crime Unit, New York's own resident smugglers aren't exactly happy about it.

Caine starts giving Kurt more and more public assignments, basically making him do all his talking and communicating with potential clients and partners, and the change is so sudden and unexpected that there must be a reason for it. Blaine's team goes through all the evidence they have over and over again, and Kurt comes home from his assignments looking more and more tired, the lines around his eyes deepening. He often needs his space on those days, politely asking to be left alone for a moment, until an hour or two later he walks up to Blaine, wraps his arms around him and just inhales as deeply as he can, as if he has been exhaling the whole day – sweet-talking and playing a role he doesn't enjoy – and now he finally gets to bring himself back.

"Can we pull him out? Or at least move in already, just to play it safe?" Blaine asks Peterson tiredly one afternoon when his boss is leaning against his doorway once again.

"I'm sorry, but we need to get all we can on Caine," Peterson says, and he sounds genuinely sorry. "He's clearly planning something huge, parading his new front-man around the city like that."

Blaine's head snaps up, his mind finally – finally – making the last connection when he remembers Kurt complaining about Caine practically asking for more trouble with his antics.

"He's not parading him around," he breathes out, already standing up from his chair, "he's making it seem like Kurt is behind everything so he can skip town with his savings and use Kurt as a scapegoat."

Peterson opens his mouth to say something, but Blaine is already running past him, yelling orders to Tina and Sam and dialing Organized Crime at the same time so he can ask them if the local criminals have been planning anything bigger recently.

And that's how they end up here, half of Blaine's team standing outside a battered warehouse with their guns drawn as they wait for SWAT to get through the surprisingly sturdy door. The other half of his team is on their way to catch Caine before he leaves the country, Sam as their leader.

Blaine was the one who requested for a SWAT team to be present, but as the door stays closed he's starting to regret it. They know there are several armed and dangerous mobsters inside the warehouse, all of them holding a grudge against Caine and therefore against Kurt as well, and if Kurt was here, he would've probably picked the door's lock already.

But Kurt is not here. He's inside the warehouse with all those mobsters.

Blaine's palms are sweating on the handle of his gun, his heart hammering against his chest as if it's going to burst out any time, and he feels like yelling at the SWAT team to work faster. God knows what's happening inside the warehouse right now, whether Kurt is alive or hurt or... No, he's not going to go there, he won't, he has to focus, even if the person he really wants to yell at is himself, because how could he not figure this out earlier? How could he not realize it from the start, and maybe then they wouldn't be here and Kurt wouldn't be there, surrounded by angry mobsters who think he's behind everything Caine has done, and these mobsters aren't like Kurt, they don't have any issues with guns or violence, and god, if Blaine had just –

If anything ever happened to Kurt, Blaine doesn't think he could live with it.

The door finally opens, and the SWAT team swarms in, Blaine's team on its heels. Blaine can hear shouting and orders, some of them probably coming out of his mouth as well, but he doesn't really register them – because as soon as they round a corner, he sees Kurt.

Kurt is pressed against the farthest wall, his clothes rumpled and in disarray, his hands raised in a placating gesture. There's a burly man standing in front of him with his hand pushed against Kurt's lower neck and his gun pointing at Kurt's head.

The only thing Blaine can focus on is the gun so close to Kurt's forehead, to the same place Blaine kissed this morning when they woke up in the same bed. The sight of it makes his whole body turn cold, and he ignores everything else, trusting that the others will take care of it as he rushes over and points his own gun at the man threatening Kurt.

"Let him go," he snarls, emphasizing every word in a voice that doesn't sound like his own, "and drop your gun."

Kurt looks from the man to Blaine, his eyes scared but at least a little bit relieved when they meet Blaine's. When he turns his head Blaine can see that he has some blood in the corner of his mouth, and Blaine's stomach lurches.

The man looks at Blaine, clearly debating his options.

"I'd do what he says," Tina's voice suddenly says next to Blaine, her gun trained on the man's head.

It takes a moment, but then the man lets go of Kurt and steps away, lifting his hands slowly before he bends down to place his gun on the floor. Tina's gaze flicks to Blaine, and Blaine nods, keeping his eyes on the man as Tina picks up his gun and secures it.

"Cuff him and take him with the others," Blaine tells her. He holsters his own gun only when he hears the satisfying click of the handcuffs, and then Tina is leading the man away, leaving Kurt and Blaine alone by the scuffed wall. Blaine looks at Kurt, his heart still beating painfully fast and his hands starting to shake. A few seconds late, and perhaps the man had already pulled the trigger, Blaine wouldn't have been there to stop him, and then –

Kurt dabs at the blood on his face and gives Blaine a shaky smile. "You were right on time. I managed to distract them for a while, but I don't think they would've appreciated my sweet-talking much longer."

Blaine lets out a sob as everything that has been keeping him together for the last hours suddenly breaks off. Kurt's eyebrows furrow in concern, and then Blaine crosses the distance between them, pulling Kurt into his arms and squeezing him against himself until the only thing he can feel is Kurt, bruised and dishevelled and quivering a little, but still breathing and solid and alive. The need to touch Kurt, to feel him against him, to know what he's here, is stronger than it has ever been, and Blaine buries his face against Kurt's shoulder, clenching his eyes shut and breathing in, feeling how his own body starts to tremble.

"Kurt," he gasps, almost hyperventilating, his hands scrabbling against Kurt's back.

Kurt takes a shuddering breath of his own, his fingers grabbing Blaine's back just as tightly. "Hey, I'm okay, Blaine. I'm okay," he whispers.

"I was so scared that –" Blaine starts, trying to calm his breathing, but Kurt interrupts him.

"I know, I know, but I'm okay, Blaine, I promise that I'm okay," he repeats into Blaine's ear. "I've been through worse during my own cons, okay? They just pushed me around and then he punched me, but I think even Rachel could throw a better punch than him."

Blaine gives out a watery, relieved laugh, his shoulders shaking with both his sobs and laughter. He burrows his nose deeper into the fabric of Kurt's jacket stretched over his shoulder, probably ruining it beyond repair, but he can feel the way Kurt's mouth turns into a smile against his neck anyway.

"Maybe I should just stop sending you on undercover missions," he murmurs after a moment, his breathing finally somewhat calmed down but still hitching every time he thinks of what could have happened.

Kurt leans back but keeps his arms around Blaine, the weight of them anchoring him and keeping him steady. "You don't mean that," Kurt says softly. "Your bosses would never approve of it."

"I do mean it, if it means we don't have to go through something like this ever again," Blaine says with vehemence. "Screw what my bosses think."

Kurt laughs this time, quiet and choked-off, and Blaine can't help it – he was so scared, so terrified that he was going to lose Kurt, but he didn't – so he leans in and kisses Kurt, slow and tender, as if he's thanking him for being alright and at the same time reassuring himself that Kurt really is alright. He completely forgets where they are and what's happening around them, and just loses himself in the kiss for a moment, waiting for his heartbeat to slow back to normal.

Someone coughs next to them.

Kurt freezes against Blaine, and the real world rushes back, the quiet muttering around them and behind it the deafening silence of the warehouse. Someone from the SWAT team is barking orders outside the house, the words sounding muffled through the walls, and Blaine's eyes snap open. He breaks the kiss and steps quickly away from Kurt even though he doesn't want to, even though it hurts, but he sees Kurt do the same until there are several feet between them.

When Blaine looks up, he sees half of his team staring back at him, their expressions shocked. The only person who doesn't look surprised is Tina, but the sadness in her eyes hurts even more, making Blaine realize what he did.

He just sent Kurt straight back to prison with one last kiss.

---

They caught Caine and a bunch of dangerous mobsters, and normally Blaine would be congratulating his team for a job well done right now – but not this time. He was immediately escorted into Peterson's office when he stepped inside the Bureau, and it almost feels like no one at the FBI wants to have anything to do with him anymore, as if they're already shutting him out and preparing for the moment when he's gone. Even the usually comforting dark walls of Peterson's office seem ominous now, as if they're closing in on him and suffocating him.

Peterson himself is staring at Blaine across his desk, his eyes unreadable and calculating. Blaine has worked for the man for years, has looked up to him and earned his respect, but in this moment he can't read his face, can't tell if he's surprised or disappointed or angry or all of the above.

He wishes he could care more about it, but he's honestly more worried about Kurt than he is about himself. He knows that Kurt is waiting in the conference room with Sam and Tina, even though he doesn't know what they're waiting for. Perhaps for the moment when Blaine gets officially fired, or for the agents from the Office of Professional Responsibility who are inevitably on their way to arrive.

Or maybe they are just waiting for Kurt's ride to prison.

Blaine's body feels cold, strung out, and his arms are itching to cross themselves over his chest, an old defensive habit he used to have as a child. He hopes Peterson would just say something – they have been sitting here for several minutes already, and the only thing his boss has said so far was "take a seat" when Blaine stepped in, nothing else, and the continued silence is starting to grate on his already frayed nerves.

"I really screwed up then," he finally says himself, just to stop the silence, his voice breaking in the middle of the sentence.

Peterson purses his lips, leans back in his chair and doesn't say anything for a moment or two, as if he's waiting for Blaine to break down completely. Blaine can't understand how the man who has supported him through everything for years with no questions asked can suddenly seem so cold.

"So," Peterson eventually says, drawing the word out. "You and Hummel. How long has this been going on?"

Blaine swallows. He could lie, but what's the point – several agents already saw him kiss Kurt, and if he fucked everything up, the least he can do is own up to it.

"Five months, sir," he replies quietly, looking away.

Peterson's eyebrows move upwards, but only a little. "Five months," he repeats. "That's a long time, Anderson."

Blaine nods. "It is."

"And you've kept it a secret all this time? From everyone?"

Blaine nods again. He's not going to take Sam and Tina down with him, not if he can prevent it.

"Huh." Peterson leans his arms against the desk and blinks his eyes a few times, something in his gaze shifting. "That's... That's quite impressive. I take it it's rather serious then?"

Blaine startles, meeting his boss's eyes. It's not the question he was expecting, but he nods anyway, almost relieved to finally tell someone just how serious it is.

"It is, sir. I wouldn't... We wouldn't have risked everything if it wasn't serious." He takes a deep breath and squares his shoulders. "But I'm willing to face all the consequences alone if it means that he won't be sent back to prison."

Peterson looks at something over Blaine's shoulder, almost as if he's ignoring his words. "Both you and Hummel have seemed a lot calmer and more relaxed during these last few months, but I just figured it was the newness of the situation and the settling anxiety finally wearing off," he muses quietly. "I guess I was wrong."

Blaine wants to shift in his seat, confused by the sudden change in the atmosphere, but he stays still. "Sir?"

Peterson seems so snap out of his daze. He gives Blaine a small, barely noticeable smile and looks down at his desk. "Have I ever told you how my wife died, Anderson?"

Blaine blinks. He knows about it, everyone at the Bureau does – how five years ago Peterson's wife unexpectedly died, and Peterson himself was away from work for weeks, the whole office emptier without him. For a while it seemed like Peterson wouldn't even be coming back, like he would retire quietly and never be seen again, but then one day he was there, marching through the office with his cheeks gaunt and his steps a little shakier than usual, and since then no one, not even Peterson himself, has approached the subject of his wife's death. Blaine knows the picture on Peterson's desk is of her, but he has never actually seen it and doesn't even know her name. Peterson might be his boss, but they don't talk about their personal matters – the only time they did was when Blaine's superiors found out about his sexuality and Peterson personally came to assure him that no matter what, he wouldn't let it change anything.

"Um... You haven't?" Blaine ventures.

Peterson's smile turns sad, his eyes trained on the photograph on his desk. "It was a hit-and-run. One moment she was crossing the street and talking to a friend of hers on the phone, and then she just..." He trails off.

Blaine does shift in his seat now, not knowing how to react to something like this. He does know the appropriate reactions, has had them instilled into him from an early age, but this situation seems to deserve something more than just appropriate. But he doesn't know how to get it across.

"That's... I'm sorry, sir," he says quietly.

Peterson looks up, and the expression on his face is surprisingly gentle. It makes Blaine feel even more confused.

"She was my heart," Peterson says simply. "I was an awful person before I met her – someone who would've probably fired you because of..." He waves his hand in the air, and Blaine swallows again. "But then I met her, this liberal do-gooder who loved the whole world in general and for some crazy reason me in particular, and I wanted to be a better man for her. Even now every time I make a decision I still wonder, years after her death, if Eliza would have approved of it."

"She sounds like a wonderful person," Blaine offers.

"She was," Peterson answers, and his eyes finally seem to focus on Blaine, coming back from his memories. "You know, Blaine, I've always thought that you have a bit too much heart for this job. And when I met Hummel for the first time, I thought the same about him." He scratches the side of his neck with a wry smile. "I figured that pairing you two up would either result in something great or in a disaster."

Blaine looks away, his heart clenching inside his chest. "And I guess it resulted in a disaster," he mutters.

Peterson leans back in his chair again, crossing his arms over his chest. "A few weeks ago we had a meeting where I convinced the other higher-ups that there's nothing going on between you and Hummel. They all seemed to think that just because you're gay and Hummel is probably gay, there must be something going on – as if two gay men can't work together without sharing a bed."

Blaine head snaps up. "What?"

Peterson shrugs. "They've been suspicious from the start, but I got them to listen to reason – and to your team's impressive results, I might add – and now they firmly believe that you and Hummel are just colleagues and friends."

Blaine stares at him. "But that's going to change now," he points out, more confused by this conversation than he was before. "They saw us. Half of my team saw us, and they must have all..."

"The official statements I got from your team only say that you and Ms. Cohen-Chang made the man threatening Mr. Hummel surrender his weapon, and then you and Mr. Hummel shared a brief, professional hug after a job well done," Peterson says. "That's what all of them said," he adds pointedly.

Blaine keeps staring at him. "All of them?" he manages to croak out, sitting still.

"All of them," Peterson repeats. "You have a good team, Anderson."

Blaine breathes out an incredulous laugh, sudden tears gathering in his eyes. He curses himself for being so emotional, but he can't... It seems impossible, that his team would have his back like that – he expected it from Sam and Tina, obviously, but lying to the Bureau just to save your boss and the resident CI is a bit too much to ask even from them, and especially from the people who have been gossiping about him and Kurt from day one.

"And you're a good leader," Peterson continues, ignoring Blaine's tearful expression, "so I expect you to be even more cautious from now on when you're handling delicate cases like this one."

It takes Blaine a moment to understand the intended meaning behind Peterson's words, but then he clears his throat and nods vigorously. "I – I will, of course I will. Both Mr. Hummel and I will be more careful in the future, I swear."

"Good." Peterson nods, seemingly professional. "Because if something like this happens again, I can't be the one to protect either of you from the consequences. And I'd hate to lose the duo that has the Bureau's best conviction rate." He looks at Blaine with his eyebrows raised.

Blaine shakes his head, trying to reel his feelings back in. "No, of course not. It won't happen again, sir. I promise. We'll – we'll both make sure of it."

Peterson's face softens, the professionalism dropping away. "I know it's difficult to keep your professional and personal life separate, but... It's only three more years, Blaine, against something possibly much longer. You told me you're serious, but the real question is exactly how serious are you?"

Blaine hesitates, looking down on his lap where his hands are resting. He remembers how scared he was earlier today, how the thought of Kurt being hurt makes him feel like his whole heart is curling up in pain and withering away – how knowing that he and Kurt can go home together at the end of the day makes even dull insurance fraud cases and hours spent in the surveillance van seem interesting.

"I obviously can't know what's going to happen in the future," he says in a quiet voice, "but I am very serious. He's not just... He's my best friend, too," he admits. It's true; Kurt Hummel has been a part of his life in some way for almost a decade now, and he can't imagine his life without him. "I'm willing to do whatever it takes just to have him in my life. Fearlessly and forever. Or at least for as long as he wants to stay."

Peterson's mouth turns into a smile. "Good." He takes a pile of papers from his desk and seems to school his face into an authoritative expression again. "Now get the hell out of my office, Anderson. There's a team waiting for you out there, and they probably think I've fired you. You should go tell them that they get to keep their boss."

Blaine scrambles up, his own smile practically breaking his whole face in half. "Yes, of course, sir. I promise I won't let you down."

He takes a few steps towards the door and then stops, his smile faltering when it hits him that Peterson gave up his own plausible deniability by asking Blaine how serious he is. It's something everyone at the Bureau has been trained against, and if Blaine and Kurt now mess up one more time and go down, Peterson is going down with them. Not a lot of superiors would do that for their agents or CIs. It's a clear sign of trust, of faith, and Blaine feels his throat tighten with the realization.

He turns around to look at his boss one last time. "Sir?" he ventures, softening his voice. "Thank you."

Peterson looks up from his papers. "I have to make my decisions with my heart in mind," he replies.

Blaine nods with a small smile, turns his back on him and steps out of the room, closing the door behind him. He walks down the corridor, shaking his head in disbelief and flexing his hands. He feels like laughing, like singing and dancing, like hugging everyone he sees, and a part of him still can't believe that this is real, that he screwed everything up only to find out that he and Kurt have all the support they can get. It feels unreal and unbelievable – his team has become a closely-knit group, he knows that, but he didn't think anyone would actually go this far for him, that somehow his fellow agents and his probies wouldn't only do what's right by the law, but what's right by the people involved as well.

It also feels like there is a sudden heavy weight on his shoulders, but he's willing to ignore that for now.

He rounds a corner, stepping into the White Collar Division, and immediately halts in his steps. His whole team is waiting for him, huddled together in a small group near the stairs leading up to the upper level of the office. When he enters they all look up and meet his eyes, the whispering immediately quieting down. Even Sam and Tina are there, looking more nervous than Blaine has ever seen them. He notices that the two youngest probies, the ones who have been flirting for months, are holding hands, their knuckles almost white from how tight their grip is, and everyone is staring at him with expectant eyes.

"We can..." Blaine starts and then pauses to swallow down the sudden overwhelmed tears, blinking his eyes a few times until he lifts his gaze again and takes a deep breath. "We can get back to work," he finally says, smiling.

Sam's face is the first one to break into a wide grin, and Blaine laughs when he whoops and pumps his fist in the air. All the others start smiling and laughing as well, their shoulders relaxing, the whole group slowly loosening up, and Blaine feels his breath catch in his throat as he watches his team. He doesn't know how he ever got this lucky.

"But I... I can never thank you enough," he continues, trying to keep the tears out of his voice. "And I promise – no, I swear – that I will do my best to never, ever let you down again."

Tina steps forward and rests his hand on Blaine's arm with a smile. "We're just happy to have you back, boss," she says.

It's the first time in a long while that any of them has called him boss, and Blaine lets out a snort at it, the final remains of the tension over the room breaking. Suddenly there are more hands clapping his back, everyone talking and laughing, and Sam even hugs Blaine against his chest for a moment, knocking the breath out of him with the force of it.

"Okay, okay, calm down," Blaine raises his voice over the noise. "Back to work, everyone. We still have a lot to do, and I want those case reports on my desk by tomorrow morning."

"You can't be serious?" one of the probies exclaims in horror.

"I'm not," Blaine admits, feeling giddy. "Go home, people. You deserve it."

With a relieved laugh everyone starts slowly collecting their things and wandering off, all of them looking more relaxed than they did when they started working on this case and many of them still pausing to look Blaine in the eye, to pat his back on their way out or to say a few words. Blaine feels like he should be the one to say more, to thank them several more times or ask them why on earth they did all this for him and Kurt, but perhaps the best he can do to pay them back is to let things return to normal as soon as possible.

He looks around the half-empty room after a moment, furrowing his brows when he can't find what he's looking for, and then Sam leans closer, squeezing his arm with a grin.

"He's still in the conference room," he whispers in a conspiratory voice, gives Blaine's arm one last pat and walks away. Blaine ducks his head with another laugh, and then quickly jogs up the stairs to the upper level.

He stops in front of the closed conference room door before pushing it open and peeking inside. Kurt is leaning against the table, staring out of the windows with his arms crossed over his chest, his fingers drawing patterns on the sleeve of his shirt. His jacket is lying on the table, messy and unfolded, and Blaine feels his heart thud at the sight.

Who cares about some extra weight on his shoulders when he gets to have this?

He closes the door behind him and Kurt startles, turning to look at Blaine over his shoulder. His eyes widen, his fingers stopping in their movement, and Blaine is relieved to see that the blood on his face has been cleaned away, only a few drops of red remaining on the white collar of his shirt.

"Hey," Kurt says, pushing himself off the table. "What did they...?"

"You're not going back to prison," Blaine says and steps closer.

Kurt exhales in relief, his body relaxing, but then he immediately tenses again. "Wait, what about you? They're not going to –"

"I get to keep my job as well," Blaine interrupts before Kurt has the chance to worry. "The team lied for us, and Peterson basically said that he has our backs but we should be even more careful in the future."

Kurt opens his mouth and closes it. Several different expressions flit over his face, until he eventually settles on lifting his eyebrows incredulously. "You're not serious."

"I am," Blaine laughs, crossing the room and taking Kurt's hand. "Peterson even gave up his plausible deniability. They all know about us now, Kurt, but they still protected us and kept our secret."

"That's..." Kurt looks even more confused. "That's crazy, why on earth would they do that?"

Blaine shrugs. "I don't know. I mean, Peterson told me not to mess up like that for a second time, but I..." He shakes his head, still not completely believing that this is real. "We get to work together, Kurt. I don't have to let you go," he says, grinning.

Kurt still looks dubious. "But it makes no sense. Most of them hate me."

"They don't hate you, Kurt," Blaine protests. "They're good people, good agents, but they just... They're not perfect, but they're obviously willing to support us now."

"And what about in the future? What if they change their minds?" Kurt demands.

Blaine wants to smooth his thumb over the worried crease between Kurt's eyebrows and make it disappear. "Then we'll deal with it if and when it happens," he assures him, squeezing his hand. He knows Kurt doesn't believe in easy victories. "I still need to talk to everyone properly, maybe ask Tina what on earth has been going on when I haven't been around to notice it, but we... Kurt," he finishes, laughing again and swinging their hands back and forth, because how could he not?

Kurt's expression softens, his lips slowly turning into a smile, and then he finally slots their fingers together. "So you're actually serious?" he asks carefully. "I'm not going back to prison, you're not getting fired and this is really happening?"

Blaine nods, looking down at their hands. "It is. We just... I know we have been careful and now we have help, but we really have to step up and make sure the people who won't help us don't find out about us. This deal doesn't have any more second chances."

"So no more making out in the rest room?" Kurt says in a coy voice, tilting his head until he can meet Blaine's eyes.

"No more making out in the rest room," Blaine repeats, and he can't keep the disappointment out of his voice. Those rest room moments were the highlight of his day. "But also no more prison or unemployment. It's a nice bonus, don't you think?" he jokes.

Kurt snorts. "I think I can live with that. As long as I have you," he adds in sing-song, winking at Blaine.

"You do," Blaine says gently. "For as long as you'll have me."

Kurt startles and looks up, his eyes shining. Blaine remembers what he said to Peterson, about wanting to keep Kurt in his life forever, and he clears his throat, averting his eyes with a blush. It's only been five months, five short months, but he knows, he is sure of it, more than he has been about anything else in his life – but he also knows that now is not the right time.

"Come on," he says instead, tugging at Kurt's hand, "let's get home so I can kiss you and make sure those mobsters didn't leave any bruises."

Kurt laughs and follows him out of the conference room. They let go of each other the moment they step out of the room, even though the office is empty by now, and it feels different – hesitant, careful and almost a little scared, because this is it; this is the last chance they're going to get. Maybe they've been a bit too naive before, or maybe this is just a temporary break they get to enjoy for now, but Blaine promises himself that this time he won't screw anything up.

They've already had their luck with second chances, and he won't risk it anymore.

---

(Kurt is the one who corners Tina in the breakroom the next day and asks her why the team suddenly decided to forgo their previous attitudes.

"Jake told me that they just thought you and Blaine made a convincing argument. That's all," Tina says with a shrug as she stirs sugar into her coffee.

Kurt frowns. "But we didn't even say anything to them."

"I'm sure that as a former con-man you know that sometimes you don't have to say anything to make a convincing argument," Tina points out before she takes a sip of her coffee, seems to deem it suitable and walks away, leaving Kurt to stare after her in confusion.)