"I can hear you thinking," Kurt murmurs sleepily against Blaine's collarbone and shifts closer to him on the bed. "It's two in the morning, why are you thinking?"

Blaine startles, coming back to reality with a soft inhale. He moves his gaze from the shadows on the ceiling to Kurt, barely making out the outline of his body in the dim lighting of Blaine's bedroom. The apartment is quiet and dark around them, just the distant hum of the city making its way through the window. Blaine knows he should feel content and comfortable with the warm covers pulled up to his chest, with Perry snoring on the floor in a familiar way and Kurt's body resting against his own – even the tracking anklet nudging his calf doesn't make him feel anxious anymore – but he just can't get his mind to shut down.

"Sorry," he says, petting Kurt's head. He rubs the back of his hand over his eyes, sighing. "It's the case. I can't stop thinking about it. But I'll just go to the kitchen to get something to drink, you go back to sleep," he adds, already moving to sit up.

"No, I'm awake, I'm awake," Kurt mumbles. Blaine can see him blinking his eyes open and straightening up before he reaches for the bedside table and switches on the reading lamp Blaine keeps there for the nights he can't fall asleep immediately and has to read one of his old mystery novels to tire his mind. The small lamp gives the bedroom a yellowish glow, making the shadows in the corners of the room look softer, and Kurt turns to look at him. "What about the case?"

Blaine scrunches his nose in thought, shrugging. "It's nothing, really. I mean, Agent Smythe said we should just focus on figuring out the details of the more white collar crimes while Organized Crime handles the bigger picture, but..."

"But you can't help but focus on the bigger picture as well," Kurt finishes, smiling when he sits up. "So tell me. Let's talk through the case like we always do."

Blaine lifts his eyebrow. "It's two a.m.," he points out.

"You're not obviously going to sleep anytime soon, and I can't sleep with you thinking so loudly right next to me. So spill." Kurt reaches out to rub Blaine's shoulder with a condescending pout. "Come on now, you know you want to..."

Blaine lets out a soft laugh, shoving Kurt's hand away. Perry makes a noise on the floor next to the bed, but when Blaine glances her way, she just shifts her legs in her sleep and goes back to snoring. He turns back to look at Kurt, who is staring at him with an expectant expression, not looking so sleepy anymore, and Blaine sighs again, running his hand through his hair.

"It's just..." He frowns down at his lap. "I have this hunch about the case, but Smythe made it quite clear what he thinks about our input in the meeting today."

They've been working on the case for a few days now, and they had their first collective meeting with the Organized Crime team earlier today. Well, yesterday, since it's already two in the morning. They were supposed to compare results and what they'd found out so far, and Blaine had been excited about it, excited about the ideas and clues he and his team had come up with – but then the meeting had only consisted of Organized Crime listing all the things Blaine's team shouldn't worry about, all the things that didn't concern them and should be left to the Organized Crime Division. The meeting was over a lot faster than Blaine or anyone else from his team had anticipated, and it left a very sour taste in his mouth.

They're trying to solve a big case, a complicated case that could turn out to be something huge if Blaine's hunch is even remotely correct, but Smythe and his fellow agents refuse to cooperate because of... What? Some age-old grudge against Blaine? Some stupid competition between the two divisions? It would seem almost ridiculous if Blaine hadn't attended that meeting earlier today and seen for himself what's going on.

Kurt hums, twitching his nose in distaste. "Smythe's a jerk. And his face reminds me of a meerkat."

Blaine snorts, leaning back against the pillows. "Kurt...!" he laughs.

"What, it's true! I'm not taking it back, okay?" Kurt's grin softens after a moment, and he nudges Blaine's shoulder with his own. "Come on. Tell me about this hunch."

Blaine sighs, caving in under Kurt's stare. "The case just... It reminds me of this unsolved case I studied at Quantico, you know? The same case popped up again about five years ago when another team in our division was working on it. I was closing in on you, so I didn't get the chance to help with the case back then," he adds with a wry smile, and Kurt grins back at him sheepishly. "Anyway, the basic idea is that the criminal resurfaces in New York every five years," Blaine continues, looking up at the ceiling as he lists everything he knows, "collects a crew of local crooks, robs several places, moving to bigger and more expensive targets every time – and then they hit one last big mark and disappear again for the next five years."

"Five years?" Kurt repeats, but then his eyes widen as his mind connects the dots. "They're waiting for the statute of limitations to close up."

Blaine nods. The details of the cold case have been running through his mind ever since he made the connection to their current case, and it feels relieving to finally share them with someone, especially when that someone is Kurt. "That's the theory. We actually studied the case as an example of the statute of limitations at Quantico." He runs his fingers through his curls. "The Bureau has caught some of the crew members during the years, but never the person behind the whole scheme, even though we have a pretty solid idea of who they are." He laughs, moving his hand to the back of his neck. "The person suspected is actually one of FBI's most wanted, so..."

"Langdon Davies, right?"

Blaine freezes, his eyes snapping to Kurt. "What?"

"It's Langdon Davies," Kurt repeats, looking back at Blaine, his gaze steady. "The one the FBI thinks is behind the whole scheme. Right?"

"How..." Blaine blinks his eyes, confused. "How do you know him? Or know of him?"

Kurt bites his lip, suddenly looking nervous. "You really should've gotten the chance to help with that case five years ago."

It takes a moment, but when Blaine figures out what Kurt is saying he can feel something cold and uncomfortable settle in his stomach.

"Please tell me you didn't work with him back then," he whispers. He can't see Kurt working with anyone like Davies, he just can't, but he knows how far gone Kurt was at some point of his criminal career, and he has to make sure. Langdon Davies is ruthless – he doesn't care for anyone or anything as long as he gets what he came for, and orders his crew to kill security guards and innocent bystanders without mercy if they get in the way. The thought of Kurt working with someone like him, Kurt who hates guns and violence and always made sure not to hurt anyone, the epitome of the gentleman thief –

"Oh god, no! No, Blaine, I never –" Kurt's eyes widen and he shakes his head violently, reaching for Blaine's hand. "I swear, I've never, ever, worked with him! He did approach me five years ago, probably wanted me to be a part of his crew back then, but I knew what he was like and what he did, and I wanted to have nothing to do with it. Nothing," he stresses. "God, that man is so disgusting that I wish he'd gotten caught the first time he came to New York."

Blaine lets out a breath, tangling his fingers with Kurt's. "Okay," he says, the cold inside him dissipating instantly. "I know you'd never work with someone like him, but the way you said it just..." He shakes his head. "Sorry. That was..."

"It's okay." Kurt squeezes his hand, his eyes still fervent and a little desperate. "I should've probably thought more about my words. It's just that he did approach me, so his case was kind of connected to mine and if you had consulted on his case, even if it would've been because of me, you would've surely caught him already and – I was just trying to be witty, basically." He rolls his eyes in a self-deprecating way. "Clearly that didn't work."

"No, it's okay," Blaine repeats, leaning in to press a quick kiss on the corner of Kurt's mouth. "I'm sorry for making it sound like I doubted you. You have to know I'd never –"

"I know, Blaine," Kurt says, smiling as he lifts his hand to stroke Blaine's cheek and then pulls him in for another deeper kiss.

Blaine lets himself get lost in it for a moment, in the breath-taking thrill he always gets when he kisses Kurt, his body bent awkwardly over the bed as he closes his eyes and slides their lips together. He breathes in the scent of Kurt's skin, soft and sleepy and familiar with the added undertone of some skin-care product, almost ready to just give in and surrender to the feeling completely, his fingers twitching weakly against Kurt's. But the case keeps nagging at him until he has to break the kiss, blink his eyes open and lean away from Kurt.

"I can't believe he even asked you to work with him," he says in an incredulous voice, looking up into Kurt's eyes. "Your whole MO was completely different from his."

Kurt sighs. "He needed an art thief, and I was the best in New York at that time. He just didn't know that even if I was a con-man, I still had principles." He tugs at Blaine's hand. "But the good thing is that I obviously did some research on him back then, and I can tell you that he does have a specific goal in mind every time he resurfaces."

Blaine straightens his back. "I'm listening."

"You said that the crew always hits one big mark right before they disappear?" Kurt continues, shifting into a better position on the bed. "Well, that last mark is always Davies's initial target. He uses the first robberies as some sort of a training for his current crew so he can get rid of the ones who don't perform as well as they should and make sure he has everything he needs for the big target."

"Wait, hold on," Blaine interrupts, lifting his hand and rephrasing Kurt's words in his head. "So what you're saying is that the last big score is always the target they're actually aiming for? It's not just something they hit because they've gotten bolder and more cocky?" He pauses, connecting the dots. "That means... That means the crew isn't necessarily as prepared during the first robberies."

Kurt nods. "Exactly. And if we want to catch them, it would be easier to do that before the last target. I mean, of course we couldn't charge them for the biggest robbery then, but..."

"No, we could." Blaine jumps out of bed, pushing the covers out of the way. He snatches the case files he brought home from his dresser and sits back down on the bed, opening one of the files. "Davies is not only ruthless, he's a bit of a stickler for details as well. If we caught him and his crew before the last target, we could obviously charge the crew for the robberies they've done this time around, but we could also charge Davies for the latest big target he hit five years ago."

He finds what he's looking for and pushes the file over to Kurt, pointing at the paper it's open on. Kurt picks up the file, scanning the page with a squint in the reading lamp's low light, before he lets out a small gasp.

"He... He always hits the last target on the day when the statute of limitations for his previous crime spree is up," he whispers in astonishment. "That is detailed."

Blaine nods, feeling the familiar rush of excitement he gets every time a case starts making sense. "That's why we studied it at Quantico. If we catch him after the last score, we can only charge him with the crimes he's committed this time around. But if we catch him before that, we can prevent him from hitting that last big score, charge him for the smaller robberies and for the big target he hit five years ago – and we could make it apparent that he was connected to the whole crime spree five years ago and the jury would have to take that into consideration."

Kurt looks up from the file. "Blaine," he breathes out. "The case we're working on right now – it has to be him. It has to be Davies. Everything we know points to him. How on earth isn't the Organized Crime all over this already?"

It's a like a bucketful of cold water, of reality, and Blaine sighs, the excitement inside of him suddenly dimming. "They're too focused on the mob and gang connections." He takes the file back from Kurt, putting it and the rest of them on his bedside table with a shrug. "I tried to talk to Smythe about Davies after the meeting today, but he wouldn't listen. He said I'm making this case into something it's not."

Kurt groans and lies down on the bed. "Like I said – a jerk."

"I really want to catch this guy, Kurt." Blaine runs his fingers through his hair again, not even thinking about how difficult it'll be to gel them come morning. Right, morning. They should probably try to get some sleep soon, but Blaine's mind still refuses to quiet down. "He needs to be put away for a long time, and if we don't catch him now, he's going to disappear for another five years and gets the chance to hurt even more people, and I can't..." He lets out a frustrated noise, throwing himself onto the bed next to Kurt and burying his face in Kurt's chest.

Kurt hums in agreement, his fingers starting to play with Blaine's curls absent-mindedly. "We should catch him then."

"We're just assisting," Blaine mumbles, barely lifting his head. Kurt's touch feels nice against his scalp. "Organized Crime is calling all the shots, and they're not listening to us. Most likely because Smythe hates me."

"But they're wrong," Kurt says, "and they're chasing all the wrong leads and focusing on all the wrong things. And Smythe did tell us to focus on our side of the things, so we could..." He trails off, the rest of the sentence hanging in the air between them.

Blaine lifts his head, narrowing his eyes. "Kurt Hummel. Are you suggesting that we look into Langdon Davies on our own?"

"Maybe?" Kurt ventures, smiling innocently.

"I was hoping you were," Blaine replies with a grin and strains his neck so he can kiss Kurt again. "God, I love you so much."

---

They spend the next day gathering more intel, studying Davies's previous crimes and trying to figure out where he might strike next. Blaine feels a little bad about working on it behind Organized Crime's back, his inner rule follower lifting its head and protesting loudly, but he tries to tell himself that it's only fair after Organized Crime asked for his team's help and then refused to acknowledge it. He still tells most of his team to continue working on the approved assignments, only letting Sam and Tina help him and Kurt with their own line of inquiry, just in case. He trusts his team – it would be weird if he didn't, after everything they've done for him and Kurt – but he doesn't want to risk the careers of his teammates by including all of them. They are sort of acting against the orders here, after all, and sometimes inner-FBI politics work in a weird way.

It's almost too easy to find a pattern in Davies's earlier crimes with Kurt there to help them, and they can successfully narrow down the list of possible targets to a few high-end galleries in the same area. One of the galleries is holding an exhibit on rare stones – expensive jewels and diamonds from different countries, all on display in a small independently owned gallery that doesn't get a lot of visitors during this time of the year but still gets by – and everything about it fits the pattern.

Blaine books a meeting with the manager for the next day, off-hours so they can go through the gallery's security without any interruptions. He takes Kurt with him, but not anyone else because he doesn't think there's any need to drag Sam and Tina away from their own work and he still hasn't let Organized Crime know about their lead. He did try, but Sebastian shot him down again, and Blaine can take the hint when it's practically spitted against his face.

Thankfully the gallery manager seems to take the threat seriously and immediately lets Blaine and Kurt see the security cameras, shows them the floor plan of the building and explains the alarm system they use. The gallery itself isn't that big, just an open space on the ground floor of a five-storey building, but the company also owns a few staff and maintenance rooms, a storage room that can't be opened from the inside behind the gallery itself and a few office spaces on the upper floors. Blaine can see Kurt's eyes flicking around the building as they walk through it, cataloguing everything and anything as always. The security isn't understandably that impressive – the gallery is quite small, after all – but Blaine is sure they can make it work in their favor.

Except they don't get the chance to even make a plan for that.

He and Kurt are just finishing up their interview with the few employees still left in the back room of the gallery when they hear shouting and loud noises from the lobby. Blaine stops in the middle of a sentence, turning to look at Kurt in confusion, and then he hears something else over the muffled voices, ringing out through the whole building.

A gunshot.

For a brief moment Blaine feels the sense of cold, almost tangible dread fill his body, but then his training kicks in and he whips around. The security camera footage is playing on the screens on the other side of the room, and he quickly finds the one that shows the gallery's lobby. There's a group of armed people moving through the hall – seven people, Blaine counts; exactly the number of Davies's current crew, and shit, it seems they were a bit too right with this hunch – and he can make out the slumped form of the security guard by the shut and most likely locked doors.

The cold feeling of dread is back. Blaine had exchanged a few words with guard just fifteen minutes ago, and he really, really hopes the kind older man isn't dead.

The robbers are clearly moving towards the back room they're in, checking every space for people, and Blaine curses, turning around to face the already panicked faces of the gallery employees.

"Panic button," he says in a low voice, "does your gallery have a panic button?"

One of the employees, a young woman who looks like she's about to go into shock, nods shakily.

"Where is it?" Blaine whispers fervently, glancing at Kurt whose eyes are moving around the room as if he's already planning how they can get out of this situation.

"In... In the lobby, behind the front desk," the woman stutters.

Blaine curses again, looking back at the security footage. Seven robbers, all armed and so close to the back room that Blaine can almost hear their footsteps echoing around the open space of the gallery. There are three employees plus the manager in the back room with him and Kurt, and he's the only one who has a gun. The odds are not that great, and Blaine needs more time.

He grabs his gun and badge and throws them in the waste paper basket in the corner of the room, hastily covering them with a few pieces of trash.

"What are you doing?" Kurt hisses, reaching for his arm.

"If they find out I'm with the FBI or that I have a gun, we have even less of a chance to get out of here than we do now," Blaine whispers back before turning to the employees, speaking quickly. "Alright, everyone – I want you to stay as calm as you can. Follow my lead, and my partner and I will do our best to get us out of this situation, okay? The robbers are dangerous, as I've already told you, but if we stay calm, we have a better chance of making it." He tries to sound as reassuring and trustworthy as he can without minimizing the danger they're in, but right as he finishes the footsteps stop outside the back room door and he can see the employees freezing in fear.

"I thought there might be other people here besides the guard," a voice says.

Blaine turns around, coming face to face with Langdon Davies. He must be bolder than Blaine thought, committing a robbery with no mask on – but then again, he is holding quite an impressive gun in his hands, pointed right at Blaine's chest. There are three other robbers standing behind him, their guns ready and trained inside the room as well. Blaine swallows, practically feeling how Kurt tenses next to him, and for a moment the only thought that runs through his head is please don't let him recognize Kurt.

Davies looks around, leveling his gun at every person in the room for a moment before moving on. Blaine tries not to breathe out in relief when his gaze doesn't linger on Kurt.

"Yes, people, this is a robbery," Davies says with an almost bored expression. He doesn't have to use words to intimidate anyone; the gun and the rest of the robbers do the trick just fine. "And if you cooperate, I might have mercy on you and you get to keep your lives. Are all of you members of the staff?"

"Yes," Blaine says immediately, raising his hands and swallowing in an act of nervousness that isn't really an act at all. He purposefully lifts his hands high enough that his jacket hangs open and shows that there are no weapons hidden underneath it. His side feels empty without the comforting weight of his gun, but at least it seems like he bought them some more time. The gallery workers seem to have unconsciously shifted to stand behind him and Kurt, and he hopes Davies doesn't pay any more attention to it.

Blaine really didn't expect this day to turn into a hostage situation when he left for work this morning.

"Excellent." Davies gestures for the man closest to him. "My associate here will first collect your phones, and then we'll see what we should do with you."

The man moves forward, stopping to stand in front of them, and slowly they all surrender their phones. Blaine had been hoping they wouldn't realize to ask for them, but obviously Davies has done robberies like this before and knows what he's doing. After the man has all of their phones, another man checks them for weapons, and Blaine consciously keeps his eyes away from the wastepaper basket in the corner.

When they're pronounced clear, Davies and a few of his crew members force them at gunpoint down the short hall to the storage room at the back of the building. Blaine looks around as much as he can without raising any suspicions on the way there, and he sees Kurt do the same next to him, the line of his shoulders tight and tense, both of them trying to figure out possible escape plans.

When their eyes meet for a moment, both of them giving each other a small comforting smile, Blaine suddenly wishes he was back at his apartment or at Kurt's loft, lying in bed with Kurt's body wrapped around his, feeling safe and loved and not like fear and anxiety and adrenaline are running through his whole body in a horrible mess, turning his blood cold and making his fingers twitch with nervousness. He's the one who dragged Kurt here, he's the one who kept these innocent people here after their work day, and god, he needs to focus, he needs to figure out how to get Kurt and everyone else out of this situation as safely as possible, how to get some back-up and how to –

"There," Davies's voice interrupts his thoughts. They've reached the storage room – it's just a small space with no windows, a few shelves lining the walls and heavy-looking boxes placed on the floor. "Now, you're going to stay here," Davies continues, gesturing at the room with his gun, "while we take care of our business. Enjoy."

He steps back and pushes the heavy door closed with the same bored expression on his face. The door lets out a loud thud as it closes, the sound echoing through the space in a way that makes a few of the employees wince; and then they can hear the lock clicking and footsteps walking away from the door. Blaine immediately moves closer and presses his ear against the door, listening carefully before he tries the handle. It doesn't budge.

"Of course they know to put us in the only room in the whole building that can't be opened from the inside," Kurt mutters, moving to stand closer to Blaine and glancing at the gallery workers huddled together in the other side of the room over his shoulder. "What on earth do we do now?"

Blaine runs his fingers through his hair, looking around the room, briefly making eye contact with the manager of the gallery who looks like he's about to throw up. "We need some way to get in touch with the Bureau and call for back-up. We're no use against Davies and his crew on our own."

"B-but how? They took our phones!" the manager cries unexpectedly, grabbing the arm of the employee standing next to him, the rest of the workers startling at the sudden loud voice.

"Look, I promise we'll do our best get you out of here, but you need to calm down," Blaine says in the soft and soothing voice he always uses with witnesses and victims when they start to panic. He deliberately slows his body language as well, trying to get some sense of calm into the otherwise terrifying situation. "I know the situation is bad, but we're safe now in this room," he continues, "and we just need to get in contact with my team and get them to send a SWAT team here as soon as possible. Then we can get out and arrest those criminals. But in order for that to happen we all need to calm down," he stresses. "Getting into a panic won't help right now."

The manager nods shakily, visibly trying to get a hold of his emotions. Blaine hates this part of his job, hates seeing people so terrified and not being able to help them as much as he wants to. Sometimes he really wishes FBI agents could have super powers as well.

"Where's the nearest phone in this building? You must have some sort of a landline," Kurt says abruptly.

The manager swallows, taking a deep breath before he answers. "M-my office. It's the room closest to the gallery in the corridor. We passed it by earlier when I was giving you the tour."

Kurt bites his lip in consideration, looking around the room. Blaine stays silent, just watching him – he can kick down a door as well as the next agent, but out of the two of them Kurt is obviously the one who has more experience about getting out of tight spots and locked rooms with heavy doors, and he clearly seems to have some sort of an idea.

"No windows," Kurt mutters to himself, walking a few steps around the small space, his arms crossed over his chest, "and the door's locked. I could pick the lock –"

"They must have left a guard outside," Blaine interrupts.

Kurt nods. "True." He glances at the ventilation shaft on the other side of the room. "Too risky, not to mention that the air vents in this building are way too small... I can't find any other exits, Blaine. I'm afraid there really is no other way in or out of this room than that door."

Blaine groans, rubbing his hand over the back of his neck. "I was afraid you were going to say that."

"The route from this room to the manager's office is not that long," Kurt argues. "I could stay out of sight, make my way to the office and call the FBI from the landline."

"Did you not hear me? There could be an armed guard right outside that door," Blaine says, gesturing at the door. "It's too dangerous, Kurt."

"Blaine, everything we do for the FBI is dangerous," Kurt counters in a low voice, taking a step closer to him, giving them as much privacy as possible in the small room. "We have to move fast or they'll get away, you and I both know that. I can distract the possible guard somehow – I mean, they are trying to get priceless stones out of their protective casings in the gallery, that's bound to cause some noise, and I could use that –"

Blaine sighs, looking at the employees huddled together in one corner of the room. This is their chance to get these people out of here safely, their chance to catch Langdon Davies, and even if the idea of Kurt – of anyone but especially of Kurt – going out there makes Blaine's heart beat faster in anxiety, he knows this is the only way. Or well, not the only one. The other choice is to wait here in this room doing nothing while Davies gets away.

"Not you," he finally says to Kurt, looking him straight in the eye. "Us. If you're going out there, I'm coming with you. I'm not... I'm not letting you go there on your own, not under any circumstances."

Kurt's eyes widen and he looks like he's about to argue, but then he must see something in Blaine's eyes, stopping and sighing in defeat. "Fine," he mutters. "We... We do work better when we're together," he adds quietly.

Blaine can hear everything behind those words, every ounce of fear and determination and Kurt and them, and he gives a small smile in reply.

He turns to face one of the employees, the one who looks the least freaked out. "Can you make sure that you all stay here?" he asks. "No matter what happens, no matter what you hear, just stay here and keep quiet and don't get out unless me or someone else from the FBI comes in and tells you that everything's clear. Alright?"

The employee nods, and Blaine nods back in gratitude. The last thing they need is the civilians wandering out on their own and trying to be a hero.

Kurt is pulling out his lock-picks from one of the hidden pockets he always has in his jackets when Blaine turns back to him. He looks calmer now, Blaine notices, now that he has something to do and something to get done and isn't just standing still, waiting for things to happen. Kurt crouches in front of the door, inserting the picks into the lock and starting to work on it even more carefully and quietly than he usually does, stopping to listen every time the lock gives a tiny click. Blaine glances around the storage room one last time, hoping to find anything that could be used as a weapon, but the shelves just have rolled-up posters and small piles of promotional leaflets on them, and they don't have enough time to start going through the heavy-looking boxes. There isn't really a way for him to get his gun back – the back room where he stashed it is in the opposite direction of the office he and Kurt need to reach and also closer to the gallery itself where the robbers are with their own guns. Going back for a gun would be too risky.

After a few moments the lock gives one last click, loud in the sudden silence, and Kurt straightens up, sliding the lock-picks into his pockets. He glances at Blaine, mouthing ready? and Blaine nods, squaring his shoulders and grabbing the door handle. He slowly eases it down and pushes the door open little by little until he has enough space to peer out of the room into the corridor.

It's empty.

No guard, no one with a gun waiting for them, nothing. Blaine blinks and leans out of the doorway, looking both ways just to make sure, but the corridor stays empty. He can hear voices coming from the gallery, muffled words and loud bangs when the robbers try to get the display cases open. There's a cigarette butt on the floor near the door that Blaine doesn't remember seeing before, probably left by one of the people in Davies's crew, and perhaps he and Kurt were right the other night when they were discussing the case – perhaps the crew isn't that prepared yet, perhaps they are going to make stupid mistakes before Davies straightens them out for the last score. Whatever it is, Blaine's not going to look the gift horse in the mouth. The FBI loves criminals who make amateur mistakes.

He gestures for Kurt to follow him and quietly slinks through the doorway, keeping an eye out for anyone that might notice them. Kurt gives the employees one last gesture signaling them to wait there and then pushes the door back closed almost all the way, stopping right before the door would make a loud noise against frame.

One of the robbers laughs in the gallery, and they both freeze for a moment until Kurt shifts nervously on his feet and starts creeping down the hallway towards the office rooms as quietly and quickly as possible. Blaine follows him, glancing over his shoulder every few seconds, his hand unconsciously reaching out for the gun that isn't there and his heart beating against his chest. God, if they get out of this alive and well, he's going to take the next day off and just hold Kurt for twenty-four hours, breathe him in and forget everything about unsolved cases and FBI's most wanted robbers. He already wants to forget everything about it, but the voices coming from the gallery and the faces of the terrified employees that he can still see in his mind are kind of a constant reminder.

Somehow they manage to make it through the hallway to the offices without being noticed, and Kurt stops in front of the right door, trying the door handle. It's locked, and he pulls out his lock-picks again, making quick work of the lock while Blaine keeps a lookout. Kurt gets the door open, and they sneak inside, closing the door behind them and leaning against it immediately, both letting out a breath of relief.

"God, my heart feels like it's going to beat out of my chest," Kurt whispers, pressing his hand against his rib cage.

Blaine takes his other hand and gives it a squeeze, trying to ignore the way his own hands are trembling. It's been a while since the last time he was in a situation as tight as this one – the White Collar Division doesn't get hostage situations that often, thankfully – and back then he didn't have to worry about Kurt's life on top of his own, didn't have anyone he needed to touch just to make sure they're still there.

"I was so sure one of the robbers was going to walk into that corridor any moment," he says in a low voice, squeezing Kurt's hand again and feeling the way Kurt squeezes back. "Where's the phone?"

Kurt points at the desk in front of them. "There. I'm assuming you have the number memorized?"

"First rule of the FBI," Blaine quips back, still feeling a little breathless. He reluctantly lets go of Kurt's hand and crosses the room, picking up the receiver with a shaky hand and dialing the number. The FBI has specific protocols for situations like this, to make things run as smoothly as possible, and the call isn't that long – just a request for immediate back-up in the gallery's address because of an on-going hostage situation and robbery – but to his surprise he finds out that Sam is already on his way with a SWAT team. Apparently someone outside the gallery saw the robbers enter the building and called the police, and since Sam and Tina knew where Blaine and Kurt were going, it was easy for them to put two and two together.

Thank goodness for observant bystanders.

"The back-up is five minutes away, maybe ten. Sam's with them," Blaine says as he puts down the receiver after ending the call, still keeping his voice low just in case.

Kurt only gives a hum in return. He's standing in front of a small locked cabinet hanging from the wall, something that looks almost like a fuse box, and Blaine moves closer, inspecting the cabinet with Kurt. It seems to be locked and has no identifying features, but Blaine remembers from the floor plan they had studied earlier that the manager's office was supposed to have a control panel for the security system.

"What are you thinking?" he whispers.

Kurt lifts his lock-picks again and starts working on the cabinet's lock. "I'm thinking the SWAT team could probably use an advantage, and perhaps whatever's inside this cabinet can help us change things a little." He pokes his tongue out of his mouth as he works, the corner of his lips twitching in a small grin. "And I'm also thinking that I've picked a lot of locks today."

Blaine lets out a breathless laugh. He can see droplets of nervous sweat on Kurt's forehead, and his own hands still feel clammy and unsteady, but somehow he still manages to let out a laugh – because at least Kurt is here. At least Blaine doesn't have to wonder how Kurt is doing because he can see it for himself.

"What do you mean, 'change things a little'?" he asks, just as Kurt gets the lock open.

Kurt pockets his lock-picks and pulls the cabinet door open, revealing several switches and controls. Some of them have the light on next to them, some of them don't, and Kurt's fingers hover over them in consideration. "I mean a distraction. Lights out, doors open and alarm on, exactly on the right moment."

"To confuse the robbers and give SWAT an advantage. That's brilliant," Blaine breathes out, grabbing Kurt's shoulder and leaning in to give his cheek a quick, messy kiss. No one can see them, they are in the middle of a hostage situation and Blaine is still riding a little high on adrenaline, so why shouldn't he kiss his amazing boyfriend who's helping the FBI catch one of its most wanted?

Kurt blushes and ducks his head to hide his grin. "I may have done something like this before, to my own advantage," he admits, stroking his fingertips over the spot on his cheek that Blaine's lips were just touching. "If we can tell about it to the SWAT team, they could make the most of it. Can you call the FBI back and get them to connect you to Sam's headset?"

"I can," Blaine says, picking up the phone again.

Kurt studies the control panel, making sure he has the right switches, while Blaine explains the plan to Sam. They have to wait for the agents and the SWAT team to get into position, but eventually, five or so minutes later, Sam gives Blaine the signal that they're ready and Blaine nods at Kurt. Kurt flexes his fingers over the controls and then flicks them all down at once.

The lights immediately go out, covering the building in sudden darkness, and at the same time the shrill sound of the alarm pierces through the silence. The only light in the manager's office is coming from the window, and Blaine blinks his eyes to get used to the dim lighting. He can hear noises coming from the gallery, yelling and footsteps and bangs, some of them echoing from the receiver in his hand as well. Sam is yelling orders, and then suddenly he calls out Blaine's name through the cacophony.

"Blaine! Blaine, turn the lights back on! We have a runner!"

"The lights!" Blaine yells, but Kurt has already flicked the switches back to their original position. The alarm quiets, the lights flicker back on, and then Blaine can hear running footsteps coming closer to the office they're in. It sounds like it's just one pair of footsteps, and at the same moment he realizes that, he remembers that there's an alternative way out of the building at the end of the corridor.

A perfect way for one of Davies's crew members to escape.

Blaine rushes across the room, but Kurt is faster and closer, pulling the door open and immediately ramming into the man who's running past the office. Kurt stumbles but stays standing, whereas the man tumbles down in surprise, a handgun flying from his hands and clattering against the floor. Blaine has just enough time to recognize him as one of the robbers when the man is already pushing himself back up again, snarling and reaching for Kurt in anger. And that's – no.

Blaine pulls his hand back and punches the man right across the jaw.

The man's eyes roll to the back of his head and he stumbles backwards before falling down again with a thump. Before he gets the chance to recover, Blaine is already on him, pushing him against the floor with a knee and locking his hands behind his back.

Kurt kicks the gun further away, and then for a moment everything is quiet, just the man grunting underneath Blaine and all three of them breathing heavily, until Kurt looks at Blaine, looking a bit incredulous.

"I can see now why you go boxing twice a week," he blurts out.

Blaine laughs and shakes his head, pushing the man down a little more forcefully.

---

They catch Davies and his whole crew, and free all the hostages. Blaine can't almost believe it, but as he watches the robbers being escorted to police cars outside the gallery, he knows they actually did it and he can't help but smile. They caught one of FBI's most wanted with only two people getting hurt – the security guard has a concussion but he should be fine, and then there's of course the robber Blaine punched – and if that isn't a reason to smile, he doesn't know what is.

Blaine looks around the scene, moving his gaze from Davies's scowling face to the paramedics who are helping the shocked gallery workers, to Tina discussing something with one of the SWAT members, and finally to Kurt, who is leaning against Blaine's car, his head tilted back and his eyes closed as he just breathes in the fresh air, and Blaine can feel his smile widening.

"Blaine!" Sam calls out, jogging up to him and clapping him on the shoulder with a grin. "That was pretty damn awesome, dude!"

Blaine laughs and flexes the hand that's still stinging a little from the punch. "Thanks. It was all Kurt's idea, so you should tell that to him."

"I will." Sam squeezes Blaine's shoulder once before letting go. "You two should head home. I can handle the aftermath."

Blaine turns to look at him, ignoring the flutter in his heart at the combination of 'you two' and 'home' and placing his hands on his hips. "But this is my –" he starts.

"Do you want to face Smythe today?" Sam interrupts. "'Cause he's on his way and I'm guessing he's gonna hate you even more now that you were right about Davies while he was chasing mobsters."

Blaine opens his mouth and then closes it, his hands falling back down.

"That's what I thought," Sam says, pushing Blaine towards Kurt and winking. "Come on, go home with Kurt and get some rest. The paperwork will still be there tomorrow."

"I'm your boss, so shouldn't I be the one calling the shots?" Blaine points out, giving Sam's shoulder a small shove.

"Not when you look like you're about to keel over, man." Sam shoves him back.

Blaine puffs out his cheeks and shakes his head. "Alright, alright, fine. Call me if something comes up, though?" he adds over his shoulder as he starts walking towards his car.

"Will do," Sam calls out after him. "Now go before Smythe gets here!"

Blaine gives out a laugh and turns his back on Sam. Kurt is still leaning against the car, his arms crossed over his chest and his eyes closed, the evening breeze ruffling his hair when Blaine makes his way over to him. Blaine can feel his smile softening as he looks at Kurt, and he gently reaches out his hand to touch Kurt's shoulder, trying not to startle him.

Kurt blinks his eyes open, his lips turning into a smile when he sees Blaine. "Hey."

"Hey," Blaine says back. "Sam said he can handle this, so we can go home."

"Finally." Kurt pushes himself off the car and stretches his shoulders. "Can we... Can we go to your place?" he asks, his eyes flitting to his anklet for a quick second.

"Of course," Blaine says instantly. "I don't think anyone's going to check your tracking data after what you did today," he adds, still in awe of everything Kurt did to get them out of the gallery.

Kurt's smiles turns a little embarrassed, his eyes shining in the low sunlight. "Thanks." He scuffs his shoe against the pavement. "I just want to go somewhere I feel safe after that whole..." He gestures towards the gallery with his hand, shrugging.

Blaine blinks. "You don't feel safe in your own –?"

"I do," Kurt rushes to say, "I do, but just... not in the same way. There's always the chance of Santana or Rachel barging in, and as much as I love them I really don't want to deal with them right now. I just want to go home. With you," he adds.

Blaine sucks in a breath. He takes a step closer and then pulls Kurt into his arms without a moment's hesitation, feeling the way Kurt's body immediately relaxes against his. Kurt exhales shakily in relief against Blaine's shoulder, lifting his own arms and squeezing Blaine closer. They just survived a hostage situation, and to anyone who doesn't know the truth the hug probably just looks like a regular embrace between two colleagues after a difficult situation – but when no one's watching Blaine discreetly ducks his head and presses a small kiss under Kurt's ear, breathing him in and letting his own heartbeat finally slow down to normal.

He can already see himself spending the rest of the day in bed or on the couch, his arms circled around Kurt's waist, lazily kissing him every now and then while some mindless reality television show plays on in the background, Kurt humming a tune under his breath as his fingers scratch Blaine's scalp; both of them just making sure the other one is still here, safe and sound and not going anywhere.

Home.

"Okay," Blaine says in a low voice. "Let's go home."

---

The next day, after Agent Smythe has begrudgingly thanked Blaine and sulked out of his office (Blaine doesn't even want to know what sort of repercussions Sebastian's going to face after this one), Peterson knocks on his door and peeks his head in.

"You got a minute, Anderson?"

"Sure." Blaine straightens in his chair, pushing his paperwork to the side and flashing his boss a smile. Case reports can't wait very long, so Blaine didn't get to take the day off after all, but at least he and Kurt got to spend the night together. He can muster up a smile because of that alone. "What is it?" he asks.

Peterson steps inside, not bothering to close the door behind him. "I just wanted to congratulate you and Hummel for a job well done. You followed your hunch and showed initiative even when Organized Crime was against it, and it certainly paid off." He looks around the office with a small smile. "Catching Langdon Davies is a huge deal, Blaine. You can probably expect a promotion because of it."

"Oh, um. Wow," Blaine stutters out. He doesn't really know how to feel about a promotion – he likes his current job, even if he feels honored the higher-ups are even considering giving him a promotion. He declined the Organized Crime position all those years ago because he likes working white collar, but if the promotion was within his own division and he could still work with his team...

"I don't... I'd have to think about it," he finally says. "And besides, Kurt came up with the escape plan and did a lot of the work. He deserves more credit as well. I mentioned it several times in my report," he points out.

Peterson nods. "I know. That's the other reason I'm here." He gives the large envelope he's been holding to Blaine. "This just came in. It's from the U.S. Probation Office."

Blaine frowns, taking the envelope and turning it over in his hands. "What is it?"

"Read it." Peterson turns to leave, pausing in the doorway. "And talk about it with Kurt," he adds.

Blaine looks up, surprised. He's never heard his boss call Kurt by his first name, but before he gets the chance to ask more, Peterson has already stepped out and walked away. Blaine can feel his frown deepening, but he opens the envelope anyway, pulling out a few official-looking papers and looking them over curiously.

One of the sentences catches his eye, and when his mind makes sense of the words Blaine can feel his heart stuttering inside his chest, several different emotions hitting him all at once as his fingers tighten around the paper's edge. He's still staring at the sentence ten minutes later when Kurt bounces into his office, smiling and holding Blaine's badge in his hand.

"Sam told me to give you this," he explains, placing the badge on Blaine's desk. "The techs found it in the waste paper basket at the gallery. Apparently they're still holding on to your gun because there were shots fired at the scene and there's some protocol about it." He scrunches his nose in thought and then grins. "But at least you got your badge back, right?"

Blaine finally looks up from the papers, and when he meets Kurt's eyes, Kurt's smile immediately disappears, his shoulders tensing.

"Blaine?" he asks worriedly, sitting down and reaching for Blaine's hand over the desk. "What's wrong?"

Blaine shakes his head, taking a breath. "N-nothing. Nothing's wrong, honestly, everything's better than..." He trails off, gesturing at the papers in front of him.

Kurt looks at the papers and tilts his head. "What are those? Don't tell me Davies is getting a deal or something because that's just –"

"No, no," Blaine interrupts, "nothing like that. This is... This is about you, actually."

Kurt blinks. "Me?"

Blaine nods. "It's a... It's a letter from the U.S. Probation Office. And it's..." He shakes his head again, this time with an overwhelmed laugh. He takes the uppermost paper and lifts it in front of his face, reading some of the words straight from the letter. "They have scheduled a hearing concerning your deal with the Bureau – 'because of Mr. Hummel's outstanding service, including helping to catch Langdon Davies when he was not under any official orders to do so, the U.S. Probation Office is convening a hearing to discuss the commutation of his sentence.' It's... It's in four weeks," Blaine finishes.

"I don't..." Kurt keeps looking at him. "I don't understand. What does that even mean?"

"It means your sentence could be commuted, Kurt. It means no anklet, no radius, no nothing." Blaine takes a deep breath, holding Kurt's surprised gaze and trying to ignore the way his own heart is suddenly beating against his chest. "Kurt, it's... In four weeks, you could be a free man."