Kurt Hummel is impeccable suits, hairstyles that defy gravity and an endless collection of bowties, ties, and scarves. He is brilliant forgeries, missing sketches, out-of-the-box escape plans and suave movements that make both men and women stare after him like they are in a daze. He is an enchanting voice, a way with words that only a few people possess and an ability to get what he wants by charming people and making them see what they want to see. He is phone calls from international numbers, postcards from prison, cookies on Blaine's desk before Christmas and the knowledge that Blaine isn't the only one actually enjoying the chase. He is endless clues, endless piles of paperwork, endless confused looks from other agents, endless false alarms and touch-and-go situations, endless nights Blaine has spent at the office, almost falling asleep at his desk – endless moments of pure fascination and admiration and thoughts of what if. Of wondering what Kurt Hummel could've been if he hadn't chosen the life of crime. Of trying to figure out why Blaine cares so much about this one con-man when there are dozens almost like him just waiting to be caught or already serving their time in prison.

But that's the one thing Kurt Hummel is as well. He is unique. Somehow he is different from all the others.

Blaine's fingers are tapping a rhythm against the wooden surface of the visiting room table as he waits for Kurt to appear. There is a file full of papers on the table next to his elbow, all of them signed by his superiors, some of them a little begrudgingly, but everything is still taken care of. All that's left is for Blaine to present his idea to Kurt and see what he thinks about it. If he thinks anything about it.

(And when exactly did Kurt Hummel become just Kurt in his head, instead of Hummel? When did they move to first name basis?)

The door to the room opens, and Kurt shuffles in, followed by one of the guards. Kurt stops just two steps after the doorway, staring at Blaine in confusion, and as Blaine lifts his gaze and looks back at him, he instantly realizes it: Kurt Hummel is definitely not orange jumpsuits and the defeated slump in his shoulders. He isn't dark circles around his eyes or strands of hair hanging over his forehead as if they've given up. Or, at least he shouldn't be. Blaine feels the familiar thud of his heart again, and for a brief moment he wonders if he's getting in too deep, if he has thought this whole thing through after all.

"Agent Anderson," Kurt says, lifting one of his eyebrows. "What are you doing here?"

Blaine gestures at the seat opposite him. "You were right."

Kurt sits down and rests his hands in his lap. "I'm usually right about a lot of things, but what was it this time?" Then, suddenly, his eyebrows rise higher and his eyes widen. "Wait. Wait... I was right about Montgomery?"

Blaine can feel the corner of his mouth twitching into a half-smile. "Yes."

"Hah!" Kurt leans victoriously back in his chair, jutting his chin out with a grin, and Blaine's own smile widens at the sight of him practically preening. There is a sudden spark in Kurt's eyes, excitement and accomplishment shining brightly from his face, the tiredness gone and forgotten for a moment. "I knew it!" he continues. "I knew it. Well, he's certainly getting what he deserves. He was always such a pompous snob."

Blaine ducks his head, trying to hide his amusement. This is the Kurt Hummel he remembers from four years ago, the one who called him every once in a while to tease him or just "to say hi to the nice little agent who's trying to catch me – yes, agent Anderson, that was a pun about your height". It's weird how much Blaine has missed this, without even realizing it himself.

Kurt sobers and lowers his gaze, studying Blaine for a moment. "You came all the way here just to tell me that I was right? Wow. What a way to make a guy feel special, Anderson," he jokes, winking at Blaine.

Blaine coughs and takes the file from the table. "That's not the only reason I came here. I have a... Hum." He hesitates. This is it. The last moment to back out, to go back to his office and pretend that Kurt Hummel never existed. To stop the single most impulsive thing he's ever done before it even happens. "I have a proposition for you."

"A proposition?" Kurt repeats, tilting his head with a grin. "My, this is getting interesting."

Blaine rolls his eyes. He opens the file, takes out the first paper, a printed photograph, and lays it on the table in front of Kurt. Kurt raises his eyebrows at Blaine first, but then he looks down at the photograph, his face showing no reaction as he takes it in.

"It's an ankle monitor," Blaine explains, a little unnerved by Kurt's silence. "Or, well, a GPS tracking anklet is the official name, I suppose. Never been hacked, so it's pretty reliable if you want to know where someone is."

Kurt leans back again. "As fascinating as this is, I don't really understand why you're telling it to me."

"Because if you accept my proposition, you'll be wearing one of those," Blaine says, continuing before Kurt has the chance to interrupt. "The way you instantly recognized who the Renoir forger was... It was impressive. I was impressed. And it got me thinking that I... I mean, my team, the White Collar Division, could use someone like you as a criminal informant. We're good, but understandably we can't know everything about the way the criminal underworld works –"

"But I do?" Kurt interrupts, lifting one of his eyebrows again.

"Yes." Blaine takes the next paper from the file, putting it over the first one. "You could be released into my custody and serve out the remainder of your sentence in that way – by helping us catch others like you. It's been done before, and it's been pretty successful."

"You want me to become the next Frank Abagnale Jr?" Kurt asks, not even looking at the papers. Blaine can't decipher anything from his expression; it's just a mask, the same he saw at the empty apartment when he caught Kurt for the second time, but this time it's even thicker.

"Well," Blaine hesitates. "Sort of. If you want to."

Kurt tilts his head, looking at Blaine as if he's trying to read him. It's quiet for several long moments, both of them just looking at each other, the papers lying forgotten on the table. Blaine can hear the distant sounds of the prison, heavy footsteps and the clanging of the security doors, and he absent-mindedly wonders how many of the footsteps belong to criminals he himself has put behind bars.

"Why?" Kurt asks finally, crossing his arms.

"Why what?"

"Why me," Kurt clarifies. "Why are you proposing this to me? Why do you care whether I serve my sentence in prison or out there with your division?"

Because no one else fascinates me like you do. Because I think you could be something great, something amazing, if you just put your talent into something other than committing crimes. Because I miss trying to figure out what you're going to do next. Because I miss you. Because you broke out of prison a few weeks before your release to see your brother one last time when my own brother barely manages to send me a birthday card every year. Because I like you, in a very weird and unprofessional way, and I don't know what else to do about it.

"Because I think you deserve a chance," Blaine says simply, shrugging his shoulders. "And I think you might actually enjoy it, if your reaction to Montgomery's arrest is any indication."

"That's all? You think I deserve a chance?" Kurt repeats. His eyes are piercing, more blue than Blaine has ever seen them before, and if this was high school Blaine would be fidgeting by now, running his hands through his hair or crossing his arms in an expression of unease. But he has years of training now, years of interrogations and difficult situations helping him keep his hands still and his face impassive.

"I think you do," he says. "I think... I think you could really help us. Help other people."

Kurt purses his lips and averts his gaze. "You have a lot of faith in a common criminal, Anderson."

"It's not exactly faith," Blaine corrects, allowing himself to smile a little. "Just a... really strong hunch. And I don't usually ignore my hunches. They helped me catch you, after all. On both times, I might add."

Kurt huffs out a laugh.

"Look," Blaine continues. "Think about it. Figure out what you want to do. You don't have to accept this proposition, but I just hope you think about it... Kurt."

Kurt's eyes turn back to Blaine in an instant, wide and surprised. Blaine gets up slowly, leaning his hands on the table as he looks into Kurt's eyes. There's a hint of vulnerability in Kurt's gaze, barely noticeable but still obvious to Blaine, and he hates himself a little for putting it there – but at least he now knows that they're both being somewhat honest with each other. Complete honesty is probably never going to happen, but Blaine still put himself on the line for Kurt Hummel, for a hunch he had, for feelings that refused to go away when they'd resurfaced after four years. It's Kurt's turn now, to choose whether he wants to put himself on the line as well.

"Let me know, okay?" Blaine says, echoing Kurt's previous parting words. He pushes the papers towards Kurt on the table and then straightens his back, walking out of the bare visiting room.

He doesn't look back, doesn't glance over his shoulder at Kurt one last time. He refuses to believe that this is the last time they'll see each other.

---

Two days later Blaine gets a call from prison. It's a brief call, just a few exchanged words, a few sentences over the phone, but when Blaine eventually puts the phone down his heart is hammering against his chest in an almost painful way. He doesn't quite know if it's from pure professional excitement or from something else, something much deeper and more complicated.

Whatever it is, it doesn't matter. He took a chance with Kurt Hummel, and now Kurt Hummel has decided to take the same chance as well – and for some reason that feels a lot better than catching the Songbird for the first time. Or for the second time.