Wes arrives immediately, a middle-aged detective called Levinson trailing behind him. Kurt sits on the sofa when they talk, almost in the exact same place he was sitting when he hired Blaine, his hands once again clasped in front of him, but this time Blaine unconsciously stands closer to him. Blaine's own heart is still beating in an erratic rhythm, upset and a bit terrified as well, and somehow this feels even worse than when the first letter arrived and Kurt asked him to be his bodyguard. Blaine knows Kurt better now, has followed him for days, almost for weeks, and seeing the tears in his eyes felt like a punch to Blaine's gut.

But now Kurt is staring at Levinson, nodding at everything the detective says, and he seems surprisingly calm and like himself, as if the way Blaine heard his voice break in the kitchen was just a momentarily lapse, a brief glimpse of things Kurt Hummel has managed to bury inside of him.

Levinson seems like a good man: he has a reassuring demeanor, like he has years of experience but hasn't let it sour his view of the world. He puts the letter in an evidence bag and promises to get it tested for fingerprints, even though he doesn't think they'll find anything on it.

"This guy's a sneaky son of a bitch," he explains. "We went through those other letters and couldn't find a single fingerprint on them or even any spit on the envelope. It's almost too sneaky. I'd say he doesn't want to just stay anonymous, he wants to stay as a nobody."

"Do you think he's dangerous?" Wes asks.

"I don't know yet. The letters aren't exactly threatening, and that's the reason this case isn't at the top of our list right now – I'm sorry, but that's just how it goes," Levinson adds when he sees Wes open his mouth again. "But if you want my professional opinion, I think it's bizarre that this guy is going through all this trouble just to send some complimentary letters. I don't know what his agenda is, but it's bizarre." He scratches his thinning hair.

"Should we take any precautions?" Blaine shifts his weight from one foot to the other, and Kurt looks up at him from the sofa.

"You his bodyguard?" Levinson asks, and Blaine nods. "Well, I guess you should just keep doing what you've been doing so far. This anonymous guy hasn't made any other contact besides these notes, so I don't see any reason you should change everything. If Mr. Hummel didn't have a bodyguard already, I'd suggest he get one or just avoid being alone, but you seem to have both covered." He nods towards Blaine's pajama bottoms, which he still has on.

"Oh?" Blaine looks at his clothes. Kurt had immediately changed into more appropriate clothes, but Blaine's always been a bit slow in the mornings, especially if he has other things to concentrate on. He did change his ratty old t-shirt into a cleaner one, but apparently he didn't realize to change his pants. He sees the way Levinson is quirking his eyebrow, and blushes immediately. "Oh! No, we're not – I'm just his bodyguard. Nothing more."

Levinson chuckles while Wes tries to hide a smile. Blaine glares at them both and then chases away any inappropriate and unprofessional thoughts he might have. He chances a brief look at Kurt, who thankfully doesn't look uncomfortable or awkward. He does look thoughtful, however, like the conversation didn't even register properly in his mind or like he's thinking too hard about something, and Blaine wants to ask him how he's feeling. He doesn't, though; he's already had enough unprofessional for this morning.

Wes pats his shoulder as he and Levinson take their leave. Blaine thinks the gesture is supposed to be calming, but for some reason it feels a lot like one of Wes' patented sometimes you are so stupid pats. Blaine has a feeling he's the only one Wes pats like that.

-

Blaine's writing e-mails to his parents and Cooper that evening when Kurt storms into the guest room wearing skin-tight jeans, a grey shirt and a black leather tie. He stops when he sees Blaine sitting on the bed and crosses his arms over his chest, looking almost like a petulant child with his pouting lower lip.

"You, Mr. Anderson, have been no fun," he drawls.

Blaine blinks. "Excuse me?"

"We're going to a bar tonight, okay? Or I am, but since you're my bodyguard I'm going to have to drag you with me." Kurt shrugs, like it's the most obvious thing in the world.

"It's Monday, Mr. Hummel," Blaine says slowly.

"So what? Rachel's coming, and so are Wes and Sarah, so get your ass off the bed and let's go!"

With that Kurt disappears to the hallway, and Blaine has to scramble off the bed to follow him before he gets out of the apartment. He may not be particularly enthusiastic about going to a bar on a Monday evening – the last time he did that was in college, and man, was he drunk then – and he doesn't even understand why they're suddenly going out, but he's on a job and he can't exactly let Kurt leave the apartment alone, especially not after this morning.

They end up in a small karaoke bar with a very tired-looking bartender and obnoxiously loud music. Kurt explains that the bar has a surprisingly large song selection, everything from Broadway to pop songs from their teenage years, as if the bar's song selection is the answer to every question running through Blaine's brain. Rachel's already at the bar, jumping down from her seat to give Kurt a hug and whisper something in his ear that makes him laugh. Wes and Sarah arrive right after them, and Sarah wraps her arms around Blaine as soon as she sees him. Blaine likes her, a lot – she and Wes are a good match, good counterparts, and Sarah treats Blaine like a little brother who has suddenly grown up.

And her chocolate-chip cookies are to die for.

"How are you doing?" she asks and gives Blaine's shoulders a small squeeze.

Blaine flashes a smile, a genuine one this time, because Kurt's still talking with Rachel and can't see him. "I'm fine, I suppose," he answers. "Even though I'm still a bit confused why we're in a karaoke bar on a Monday night."

Sarah laughs. "That's Rachel Berry for you. Apparently Kurt called her after this morning and she decided we all needed some fresh air, some alcohol and some ridiculous singing. I'm skipping the singing, though."

Blaine looks around the bar. "But it's Monday. This place isn't exactly overflowing." There are a few people spread out through the bar, sitting and talking, but the dance floor is completely deserted and no one's even looking at the karaoke machine in the corner.

"Ah," Sarah taps her nose. "That means even you can relax, Mr. Bodyguard."

Wes appears next to her and gives her cheek a small peck. "Have you given Blaine a good pep talk already, dear?"

"Yes, I think he's ready to face the world," Sarah says mock-seriously, and Blaine laughs. He can see over Sarah's shoulder how Kurt says something to Rachel and then gestures towards the bar, so he excuses himself and follows Kurt. He's working twenty-four-seven like he said to himself all those days ago, so even if the bar is half-empty, even if there are no completely dark corners and he has his eyes on Kurt all the time, he still feels like he has to follow him.

"What are you having?" Kurt asks him over the music, leaning against the bar in his tight jeans and looking completely carefree. Blaine tries not to stare at his legs and his ass, so he shakes his head, averting his eyes before Kurt notices.

"I'll just have water. I'm working after all."

"Fine. Be boring." Kurt shrugs, smiling to indicate he's at least half-joking.

Wes suddenly appears next to Blaine. "Trust me, Kurt, you do not want to see this guy drunk."

Blaine knows he's blushing, for the second time today already, and he tries to shoot Wes a glare, trying to tell him to stop it right now, but Kurt's interest is already piqued.

"Oh? Tell me then – what is Blaine Anderson like when he's drunk?" he asks with a teasing smile, and fuck, Blaine knew tonight was a bad idea.

Wes pats Blaine's shoulder, and this is definitely one of his patented pats. "Let's just say that he completely loses control over his mouth and his body. Do you remember that one time after graduation when I came to visit and we had that Warbler reunion party?" He looks way too giddy, and Blaine kind of hates his best friend right now. Wes turns to look at Kurt, ignoring Blaine's expression and continuing the embarrassing drunken tale of one Blaine Anderson. "By the end of the evening he was so plastered that he kept singing Pink horribly off-key, tripping over his own feet, proposing toasts to everyone and everything and yelling how he was done with high school and one of the f–"

Blaine slams his hand over Wes' mouth. "Okay, I think that's enough, Wesley!"

Kurt laughs, but thankfully the bartender wanders up to them right then, getting Kurt's attention, and Blaine can throw a murderous look at Wes without anyone else noticing. Kurt orders something that sounds fancy and gets a sigh from the bartender as a response, but then he turns back to look at Blaine and Wes with sudden realization.

"Wait... Warblers? Were you in high school together? Are you telling me that Blaine was in the Warblers as well?"

"Oh right, I forgot to tell you." Wes turns to Blaine, ignoring Kurt's question. "Kurt's from Ohio as well – Lima, actually. Do you remember that glee club that beat us at Regionals? The New Directions? Kurt was their member."

Blaine thinks back. "You sang original songs?" After Kurt nods, his eyes widen. "Didn't New Directions win Nationals the next year?"

"That was us!" Kurt grins. "Me and Rachel were the lead soloists that year. But you didn't answer my question!"

Wes shrugs. "Yes, Blaine and I went to Dalton together, and yes, Blaine was in the Warblers. He was actually our lead vocalist for, what, almost three years? He wanted us to 'explore other talents as well', but he was still the one who sang the most lead."

Kurt looks at Blaine. "So apparently you can be fun, Mr. Anderson," he says, his eyes literally twinkling, and Blaine blushes again.

He knew this was a bad idea.

They take over one of the tables near the small stage, all too close to the karaoke machine in Blaine's opinion. It's been years since he last sung karaoke, and it's been over a year since he last sang in public – naturally he did sing at Cooper's house and Cooper once jokingly complained that he sang or hummed more than he talked, but he hasn't had the opportunity to sing in public for a long time. If the situation was different Blaine would be the first one on the stage, blasting out Katy Perry or Pink like there's no tomorrow, and a part of him wants to do that desperately.

But he's working now. Twenty-four-seven. Kurt just got a new letter this morning, and Blaine can't exactly let his guard down after something like that, not even in a half-empty karaoke bar. So he just sits back, follows the conversation and takes small sips of his water, watching as everyone else gets more and more drunk.

Well, watching as Kurt and Rachel get more and more drunk. Wes has a terrifyingly good tolerance to alcohol, whereas Sarah has to get up early tomorrow and doesn't want to spend the day in her bakery feeling hung-over.

Rachel's the first to hit the stage some time later, loud and giggling and pleasantly drunk, but she still manages to sing an amazing version of Don't Rain On My Parade. Blaine claps loudly for her while Kurt cat-calls, and some of the other customers start to turn their attention towards the karaoke machine as well, not necessarily interested in singing themselves but clearly ready for some new background music.

After the song Rachel drags Kurt on the stage – not that he's even resisting that much. They argue for a few moments until they seem to find the perfect song, and when the first notes drift from the speakers Blaine can't help raising his eyebrows. He knows that Kurt is a countertenor, and even his speaking voice is rather high, but Defying Gravity? That song has some awfully high notes. Blaine should know; he tried to sing it once at college because of a dare and choked completely.

Wes catches his eye over the table and mouths watch and listen, so Blaine does just that.

Watching Rachel and Kurt perform together is like watching two incredibly talented artists fight over a solo, except it's all clearly in good humor: they keep circling the stage and playfully shoving each other, laughing and teasing. Wes and Sarah are clapping and swaying to the music, but Blaine promptly blocks out everything else when Kurt opens his mouth for the first time. He can't keep his eyes off Kurt. His voice is clear and simply gorgeous, soaring higher and higher without any strain or difficulty.

Rachel stops singing right before the high F, stepping back to give the spotlight to Kurt and Kurt only. Kurt's smile is confident and radiating, wider than Blaine has ever seen it, and he lets his voice pierce through the small bar like a wonderful bird springing to flight.

Blaine's breath stops.

He almost doesn't realize to clap, too stunned by Kurt's voice and performance. He's forgotten everything, everything else except the completely and utterly beautiful man standing on a tiny stage in this empty karaoke bar on a Monday night. Wes and Sarah are already whistling and shouting, and Blaine finally manages to come down back to earth and clap his hands together.

Rachel and Kurt take a bow, and then Rachel says something to Kurt before jumping off the stage and returning to their table. Kurt stays behind, browsing through the karaoke machine's selection.

"You were amazing! What's he going to sing?" Sarah asks as she hands Rachel her drink back.

Rachel beams. "Thank you! I just told him to sing something from the musical that gave him the lift-off." She shrugs. "It seemed appropriate."

Blaine frowns in confusion, but then he hears the soft melody of a clarinet coming from the speakers and understands what Rachel meant. Kurt is swaying lightly to the music, keeping his eyes closed until he opens his mouth and sings with so much emotion, so much strength that Blaine feels like even his heart is going to forget beating for a moment, right there and then.

"Maybe this time, I'll be lucky. Maybe this time he'll stay..."

If Kurt was gorgeous singing Defying Gravity, he's even more so singing the song that made Blaine bawl his eyes out when he was fourteen and saw Cabaret for the first time. Blaine can't stop staring at Kurt, doesn't even want to stop, and it looks like Kurt is putting everything he has into the song, all his feelings and experiences, all the sad and disappointed thoughts Blaine can see on his forehead sometimes – and all of his determination as well, all the courageous glints that Blaine has seen in his eyes.

The song keeps building, and Kurt's hand starts moving with the melody, his voice getting braver and braver until it's filling the whole bar with the last lyrics.

"'Cause everybody, oh they love a winner, so nobody love me. Mister Peaceful, Mister Happy, that's what I long to be. Well all the odds are – they're in my favor, something's bound to begin. It's got to happen, happen sometime, maybe this time... Maybe this time I'll win!"

Kurt throws his arm out on the last note, reaching for something in the bar's dark ceiling. Blaine is the first one to stand up, giving Kurt the standing ovation he so obviously deserves, and everyone else in the bar follows his lead. Even the bored bartender is clapping, his eyes wide open. Kurt drops his hand as the last note echoes through the bar, and then he looks around, smiling a little bashfully until his eyes meet Blaine's.

Kurt's smile falters, and he looks away quickly. Blaine doesn't know why.

It's even later in the evening when Rachel finds out that Kurt's Bodyguard-Blaine is the same Warbler-Blaine that she remembers beating at Regionals and forces him to sing something as well. Blaine in turn forces Wes to come on stage with him. Wes complains that he hasn't sung anything since high school ("and that was ages ago"), but one thrilled look from Sarah seems to suddenly change his mind.

"You're completely under her thumb," Blaine teases when they get to the stage. He can still see Kurt, there are even fewer customers in the bar than when they arrived, and Rachel and Sarah are sitting next to Kurt, so maybe he can let loose a little as well.

Wes shrugs. "What can I say? She makes me forget everything about gavels and orders with one smile."

Blaine laughs and starts skimming through the song selection. "Alright, since there's no way we're getting out of this... Sectionals 2011? You do know the lyrics, right?"

Wes smiles. "Just like old times."

As much as Blaine loves cheesy pop songs, the best performance he ever had with the Warblers was when he sang Coldplay's Viva La Vida at Sectionals. Sebastian Smythe probably thought they were being too dramatic, too pretentious or too over-the-top, but they still won, and their version of the song was the most fun Blaine's ever had on stage. He still remembers the choreography, can still sometimes hear the crowd cheer in his ears, and the memory of that performance always makes him smile.

So when the song starts playing through the tinny speakers, when the beating sounds fill the small bar, Blaine can feel something shift inside of him. For a moment he forgets everything about professionalism and being a bodyguard, forgets distance and distraction and just loses himself in the music, in the lyrics and Wes' familiar voice singing next to him. He's Dalton-Blaine once again, confident and eager, jumping on the stage and waving his arms with the beat, trying to make people feel better with the power of music. He knows he's practically beaming even though the lyrics aren't exactly joyful, but the music is strumming through him, taking him to a place he has missed without even properly realizing it.

"One minute I held the key, next the walls were closed on me – and I discovered that my castles stand upon pillars of salt, pillars of sand..."

Blaine knows the lyrics by heart, knows them like the back of his hand. This, this feeling combined with the knowledge of helping people was what made him want to become a music teacher. It still does, and for the first time in months Blaine seriously thinks about dropping everything else and going back to college. He doesn't want to be a bodyguard for the rest of his life, doesn't want to shut himself off every single day. Music and helping people, those were and are the things he wants to do with his life – and oh how he misses them. He's helping people right now, helping Kurt, but the musical aspect has been sadly lacking in his life recently.

Maybe he should try to change that. Maybe he should try to rule his own world again.

When the song draws to a close Blaine comes back down again, back from the place that's filled with music and rhythm and wild hand gestures. He's breathing hard and sweat is running down his forehead, but he feels... good. He can feel Wes clap him on the shoulder and can see Rachel and Sarah screaming excitedly and jumping up and down, and Kurt –

Kurt is staring at him with his mouth wide open.

Blaine hasn't sung in front of Kurt before, not unless he counts those performances with the Warblers years ago. He's always had the habit of breaking into song wherever he goes, belting tunes when he feels particularly happy or sad, or when he just feels anything. He was never good with words, but he was always good with music. He's been holding off recently, though, consciously stopping himself from singing. He has hummed, but Kurt has never heard him sing or seen him go crazy with music like this. Kurt has never seen him lose himself like this.

But Kurt looks impressed now, his eyes shining with wonder and something else that Blaine can't quite grasp. Kurt shakes his head a little, as if he's clearing his mind, and then he's suddenly standing up and clapping his hands rapidly. He looks completely and utterly stunned, and his smile is so wide that his whole face is practically glowing with the strength of it. He looks ten years younger – and how on earth does he do that, Blaine doesn't understand it; they're the same age but Kurt manages to look both younger and older than his years, his face like that of a high school student but his eyes full of emotions that belong to someone considerably older.

At that moment Kurt looks so beautiful that Blaine can feel his breath catch in his throat, and he knows it's not just because of the exertion caused by his performance. He can't believe he did that – that he was the one that put that exquisite amazement on Kurt's face, that he managed to make Kurt look at him like that.

But he is Kurt's bodyguard. He shouldn't be the one making Kurt look at him like that. He can almost feel the way his feet, his mind, his feelings, his everything, hit the ground when the thought registers in his mind. Right. He's working. Twenty-four-seven. The tired smile on his face slips for a moment, and across the bar he can see Kurt's face fall as well, his hands stuttering in the middle of clapping.

Blaine's silly heart misses Kurt's stunned look instantly and wishes he could just flip a switch and make it appear again.

His head knows he can't.

-

Blaine has carried a drunken Cooper home a few times, carried some of his college friends as well, and has even carried Wes once – they don't talk about it, ever – but carrying a drunken Kurt Hummel is a whole different adventure. Kurt is giggly and clingy, holding on to Blaine's neck like it's a lifeline and babbling on and on about Cabaret and what Rachel was like in high school. His mouth is so close to Blaine's ear that he can feel the hot breaths on his skin, tingling in a way that should be awkward but is just... Absolutely distracting.

"Rachel was so damn sure that I was going to sing... Willkommen, or even If You Could See Her, because she and I both know I'd make an excellent Emcee – oh, I so would..." Kurt giggles against Blaine's neck, and Blaine wishes desperately that the elevator would be a bit quicker. Or slower. He doesn't really know which choice would be better.

Kurt straightens a little, staring at Blaine's cheek with determination. "But just because Miss Rachel Berry sang Maybe This Time when we were in high school doesn't mean she has eternal rights for it, okay? Isn't that right, Blaine? Blaaaaine. Blainey. Blainey-wainey? What if I called you Blainey-wainey, Mr. Bodyguard?"

The elevator pings when they reach the ninth floor, and Blaine drags Kurt to the hallway, fumbling to get the key to the apartment from his pocket while Kurt's hands roam across his arms and chest.

"God, Blainey-wainey, you're really... Attractive. Definitely not Arnold Sh... Swa... whatever his last name is," Kurt suddenly slurs, gripping Blaine's bicep and actually squeezing it.

Blaine pales. This cannot be happening. Kurt's obviously drunk and he obviously doesn't actually think that Blaine is attractive. If he did, the feelings Blaine has managed to strangle and hide beneath his professionalism would probably burst free, and that could turn ugly in so many ways, so it shouldn't happen, and Kurt definitely does not see him as anything else but a bodyguard who has to follow him around everywhere, Kurt's just drunk right now, and what were these feelings Blaine was talking about, there are no feelings, just complete and utter professionalism and that's it.

... Dear lord, he's babbling inside his own mind. And he isn't even the one who's drunk.

Blaine finally manages to get the door to the apartment open and stumbles inside. Kurt almost trips over his own feet, giggling again, but Blaine keeps him upright and tightens his hold on Kurt's waist. The apartment is dark, and Blaine doesn't bother to turn the lights on. He has memorized where everything is, just in case, and makes his way towards Kurt's bedroom dodging anything that might be in the way. Kurt's breath is hot against his cheek, and he smells like alcohol and sweat and something else, something unique and completely Kurt.

"Attractive..." Kurt murmurs against Blaine collar. "And freakishly talented... I can't understand why you're not out there rocking the stages or something. I knew that the Warblers were good, but damn, Blainey-wainey." He hiccups, and Blaine tries not to smile. "You were like a... A rock star."

They reach Kurt's bedroom, and Blaine carefully drops Kurt on the bed. Kurt whines when Blaine disentangles their hands and bodies and tries to grab Blaine's shirtsleeve, but Blaine dodges his long fingers. Kurt's hands find the duvet instead and he flops down on the bed, pulling the comforter over himself.

Blaine sighs. "Mr. Hummel, you should at least take your shoes off. And your tie."

"I don't wanna," Kurt mumbles, his voice muffled by the duvet. "'m too tired."

Blaine sighs again but bends down to take Kurt's shoes off. He places them next to the bed and then raises the comforter to take off the black leather tie as well. Kurt tries to bat his hands away, but his movements are sluggish and slow, the tiredness finally taking over, and Blaine easily ignores Kurt's warm hands reaching for his own.

When Kurt seems to be as comfortable as Blaine can make him, Blaine covers him with the comforter and starts for the door. A small, questioning sound stops him after two steps, and he turns back towards the bed. Kurt has lifted his head from the bed and is staring at Blaine, his eyes suddenly impossibly blue and sad in the faint lighting.

"Blaine?" His voice is small and scared, and Blaine instinctively moves closer. Kurt's hand snakes its way out from under the comforter and reaches out towards Blaine, fingers shaking tiredly. "Don't... don't go, Blaine. Please."

Kurt's voice breaks on the last word, and Blaine couldn't say no even if he wanted to. He takes Kurt's hand slowly, giving him time to move away if he decides to, but Kurt just clutches his hand, tugging him closer and closer until Blaine has no other choice than to climb on the bed next to Kurt. He shuffles around before leaning his back against the headboard and lacing his fingers with Kurt's. He's trying to keep a respectable distance between them – he's just being professional; Kurt is his client and doesn't want him to go, so naturally he has stay – but Kurt cuddles next to him, twining his other arm around Blaine and letting his head fall on his chest, and Blaine's whole body tenses.

"I don't usually drink this much," Kurt mumbles, half-asleep already.

Blaine clears his throat, trying to think of what to do with his other hand. Kurt's hair is brushing his neck, and carefully he places his hand over Kurt's head, stroking his hair and running his fingers through it. His mom used to do this to him when he was small and scared (and after Sadie Hawkins as well, but Blaine really doesn't want to think about that right now), and it always made him feel safe. Maybe it will make Kurt feel safe as well.

Kurt snuggles closer to him. "I just... I just wanted to forget everything for a moment," he says under his breath, so quietly that Blaine barely hears the words, but he does hear them and his heart clenches painfully in his chest once again.

He knows it isn't professional, but he lets his lips brush against Kurt's hair for a second before tightening his hold on him. He'll just... stay here for a few hours, make sure Kurt sleeps well and everything is okay, and then he'll sneak back into the guest room. Hopefully Kurt won't remember any of this in the morning and they can just pretend nothing happened, can go back to professionalism and distance and dancing around each other like there's nothing between them, like Blaine doesn't feel better every time Kurt smiles and like Kurt didn't want Blaine to stay. Because there's nothing between them, only a professional relationship between a bodyguard and a client, and that's it. There isn't anything more hidden between them.

Kurt's breathing evens out slowly as his whole body relaxes in Blaine's arms. Blaine leans the back of his head against the headboard and stares at the ceiling, seeing nothing.

He has no idea what he's doing.