Chapter 4

Kurt groaned tiredly as he looked at the alarm clock standing on the nightstand. The bright red numbers mercilessly showed that it was 5:07am. Last time he checked, it was 5am, but Kurt could have sworn that it felt like it had been at least 30 minutes since then. He sighed. The night had been simply awful. At first, he couldn't fall asleep, the thought of a stranger sleeping or doing God knows what in the next room was continuously lingering on his mind. When he managed to finally doze off it wasn't much of a relief. The sleep he fell into was restless, so when he woke up at 4:30am, he wasn't feeling even slightly more rested than before going to bed. After tossing around, he finally gave up the hope of getting any more sleep and slowly sat up in the bed. He rubbed his eyes tiredly and got up in compliance.

After brushing his teeth in the bathroom, he headed to the kitchen and started the coffee machine. He leaned on the counter as he waited and let his mind go back to the previous evening. Blaine didn't say anything after he left him in his room to unpack; he didn't react when Kurt informed him later that they would be leaving at 8am. He was simply lying on the bed and staring at the ceiling, so Kurt left him alone and retreated to his own bedroom. Later in the evening, he could hear Blaine walking into the bathroom, then returning to his room. Other than that, no signs of the forger.

Kurt poured the coffee in his favorite mug and settled in an armchair. He wasn't awake enough to focus on reading or watching anything, so he just leaned back, closed his eyes and sipped his coffee, letting the warmth spread through his body. He sighed in contentment. It was his chance to enjoy the peace and quiet, at least for a short while, and he was going to make the most of it.

Blaine's eyes snapped open when he heard a sound coming from somewhere in the apartment. It sounded suspiciously like a coffee machine so he glanced at the clock standing on the nightstand.

5:20am.

Blaine groaned quietly. If Hummel was such a morning person, this would be a lot harder than he anticipated. There was no way he was going to fall asleep again, he'd always been a light sleeper and being in prison made him even more sensitive to even the slightest sound. He sat up in bed and ran his fingers through his hair. His gaze fell on the piano standing in the corner of the room. He could almost feel it pulling him, but one thing was still holding him back. It was simple. He was afraid of getting lost in it again, having his passion back, only to have it ripped from him again. He had no guarantee of never going back to prison and this, music, was something that he missed the most. Not painting, drawing or sketching, but playing, the lack of it almost drove him insane. Blaine squeezed his eyes shut. He missed it so much.

Abruptly, he jumped off the bed and crossed the small distance between the bed and the piano in two long strides. He sat on the bench and took a deep breath, his fingers hovering above the keyboard. With a small smile, he started playing the only melody that seemed right at the moment. (PLAY)

He was done being afraid.

Kurt was suddenly pulled out from his reverie by the sound of music. Someone was playing the piano. He was confused at first, but after a while he realized that the sound was coming from his own apartment, from behind the closed door of Anderson's bedroom, to be precise. And, Kurt noticed in astonishment, he was good. Really, really good. And the melody he was playing? It sounded familiar, Kurt was sure he'd heard the song before, but couldn't quite place it at the moment. But it was beautiful. It sounded so raw and passionate, like it was very close to Blaine's heart, and for a second Kurt felt bad for somehow intruding such an intimate moment, but then he remembered that it was Anderson, the guy he hated, and he really shouldn't care about his feelings and he definitely shouldn't feel guilty at all… But he still did and he couldn't explain why. Kurt shook his head, he was being ridiculous.

With the last note, the playing stopped and Kurt heard the bedroom door open and the shuffle of footsteps. He slowly released his breath when he heard the bathroom door close, which meant he still had a few minutes to compose and steel himself for whatever this day would bring. After a few minutes, Blaine appeared, yawning, from the little hall between their bedrooms and the bathroom. Kurt turned in his direction, but whatever he was going to say, suddenly flew out of his mind, the words dying in his throat. Blaine was leaning against the doorframe, shirtless, the sweatpants hanging lowly and loosely on his hips. His black curls were a mess and his face was covered with stubble. Kurt took in his broad chest and arms, and the V-line, barely above the hem of the sweats… Suddenly, he heard the quiet snort and his eyes snapped up to Blaine's unimpressed face.

“See something you like, pretty boy?” He asked, with his eyebrows raised.

Kurt narrowed his eyes. “Not particularly.” He said, recovering quickly. “And don't call me that.” He added, though he figured it was pointless, Anderson never seemed to do what he asked for.

Blaine shrugged without saying a word and yawned again. Kurt looked at him with amusement. “Someone's grumpy in the morning.” He said mockingly.

“Well, someone woke me up.” Blaine grumbled annoyingly. “Do you always get up that early? Because if you do, we're gonna have a fucking problem.”

“My apologies.” Kurt said, not really meaning it. “But to answer your question, no, I don't.”

“Thank god.” Blaine mumbled, moving to the kitchen area. The agent watched him maneuvering easily around the kitchen, like he'd been doing it for years, and Kurt hated how quickly he accommodated, how on ease the forger was while he still couldn't feel right in his own apartment, for God's sake. That's why he decided to retreat to his bedroom, so he didn't have to face Anderson for any longer than absolutely necessary.

“We're leaving at 8.” He said curtly as he got up from the armchair.

“Yes, sir.” Blaine saluted with a mocking grin and it took all the willpower Kurt could muster not to punch him in the face. He said nothing and walked back to his room, unaware of Blaine leaning on the counter and watching him in amusement.

When he emerged from the bedroom right before 8am, Blaine was already there, dressed in dark wash jeans and plain red t-shirt, his black leather jacket lying on the couch. He was slowly strolling along the shelves and watching the photos placed there and, to Kurt's chagrin, holding Satine in his arms, petting her while the cat purred in delight. When he heard Kurt entering the living room, he gently put her on the floor and moved to the couch to throw his jacket on.

“Before you even suggest it, I'm not wearing a suit.” He said when he noticed Kurt eyeing him disdainfully. The agent shook his head, huffing in annoyance and walked in the direction of the hall.

Blaine smirked and shamelessly raked his eyes over the agent's body before he disappeared behind the door. The man was a pain in the ass, but speaking of ass, he had a great one, so the least Blaine could do was appreciate the view.

“You coming?” He heard Kurt calling from the hall.

“Sure thing, gorgeous.” Blaine said, grinning in satisfaction when he could basically hear Hummel gritting his teeth in order to stop himself from snapping. He's making it so easy, he thought with joy and followed Kurt out of the apartment.

Time to make FBI at least a little less helpless.

Apparently, the news about FBI's newest asset had spread around, because as soon as they exited the elevator and entered the office, the eyes of other agents immediately fell on Anderson. Most of them were eyeing him with curiosity, but Kurt didn't miss the sight of a few agents shaking their heads in disapproval. He glared at them warningly and turned to one of the younger agents standing nearby.

“Are Chang and Lopez already in?” He asked.

“They're waiting in the conference room, boss.” The woman said.

Kurt nodded and gestured at the forger to follow him when he headed to the stairs leading to the upper part of the office. Noticing few agents still gawking at them, he rolled his eyes.

“Don't you have work to do?” He asked loudly without turning around as he and Blaine climbed the stairs. He heard a hasty scurrying behind him and chuckled, but a quiet snort coming from Blaine quickly brought him back to Earth.

“Problem?” He asked him, raising an eyebrow.

“Nope.” Blaine said, shaking his head with a smirk.

Kurt shot him an annoyed glare and said nothing as he opened the door to the conference room. Mike and Santana were chatting at the end of the table and their heads snapped up when they heard the two men entering the room.

Kurt smiled dryly at them. “Guys, meet Blaine Anderson.” He said, hoping that the dislike wasn't too evident in his voice. He turned to the forger. “These are Special Agents Santana Lopez and Michael Chang.”

Mike nodded in a greeting with a neutral expression on his face but Santana was a completely different story. “Oh, so that's this famous guy who can allegedly steal and forge anything? Forgive me, with your height and these curls I almost mistook you for a hobbit that ran away from the Shire.”

Blaine narrowed his eyes. “And here I thought that FBI's standards were a little too high for them to hire a stripper. Tell me, do you use your surgically made boobs to distract the guys you're chasing when you can't catch up with them because of those heels or…?”

Santana's eyes flashed with anger and she stood up. “Listen, you little…”

“Enough.” Kurt interrupted firmly, his glare almost lighting everyone in the room on fire. “No matter how entertaining I find the unmistakable love between the two of you, it's neither the time nor the place for this. We have work to do.” He said as he sat down on one of the chairs. For a few more seconds Blaine and Santana stared into each other's eyes, then reluctantly took their places behind the table.

“Excellent.” Kurt said. “Let's start with the most recent of Smythe's hits.”

“The most recent of your screw ups, you meant to say?” Blaine said, smirking slightly.

Kurt breathed through his nose, trying not to pounce at Anderson and strangle him with his bare hands. He opened one of the files and pushed it to the forger.

“A few months ago one of the rich art collectors decided to organize an exhibition to show off his newest purchase, a blue diamond.” Kurt started. “Almost immediately a few of our CIs reported that there had been an announcement made on the streets – Sebastian Smythe planned to steal the diamond and for anyone who would try to interfere or forestall him, that would be the last thing they ever did.”

At Blaine's raised eyebrows, Kurt smiled thinly. “He's made quite a name for himself since you've been gone. Anyway.” He continued. “We set up the surveillance outside of the building the exhibition was held in, and we waited. Nothing happened… until last week. There were no signs of Smythe, or anyone else for that matter, entering the building, when suddenly the alarms went off. We hurried inside only to find the empty showcase. And that's it.” Kurt finished bitterly with a shrug. “No diamond, no Smythe.”

“And you're sure he's the one who did it?” Blaine asked.

“Definitely.” Mike said. “He left his signature card in the showcase, another thing he started doing after you were locked up.” He handed Blaine a card in a plastic evidence bag. It was a simple white business card with the black logo, the double S. “Our best shot is to assume that he somehow sneaked in and out without us noticing him.”

“What about the cameras inside?” The forger asked.

“They weren't working.” Kurt said with a sigh. “The personnel said there had been some kind of a failure.”

“Of course.” Blaine muttered with a roll of his eyes. He leaned back on the chair. “Well, I'm sorry to ruin your theory, but I don't think Sebastian was there at all.” He said. “He had to have help from the inside, the person who took care of stealing the diamond while he was supervising the hit from the safe distance.”

“That's what we thought at the beginning, but we questioned and searched all the people that were working there during the break-in, we didn't find the diamond. And after running their names through all of our bases, we ruled out all of them, none of them had any connections to Smythe or any encounters with the law.”

“Unless they gave you a fake name which is exactly what a person working with Smythe would do.” Blaine said with an amused expression, like it was an obvious thing. “Do you have the list of the personnel?”

Santana nodded and after rummaging one of the files, she handed him a sheet of paper. Blaine took it and started examining it, searching for anything sounding familiar. He almost gave up when suddenly one name drew his attention. He hummed pensively.

“What is it?” Kurt asked. “Do you know anyone?”

“Not exactly.” Blaine said slowly. “But this one name…” He stood up and walked to the white board standing in the corner of the room. He wrote the name in big letters.

ANTHONY SAMUEL ROGERS

“What about it? Looks like an average name.” Santana said skeptically.

But Blaine didn't seem to hear her as he was intently staring at the black words. Suddenly, he wiped the first and the middle name and rewrote it.

TONY S. ROGERS

“What are you trying to achieve here?” Kurt asked. “I don't see how…”

“Hush.” Blaine silenced him. Kurt narrowed his eyes, he hated being interrupted, and was about to retort angrily, when the forger turned to look at them with a triumphant smirk. “Do any of you happen to be a Marvel fan?” He asked.

Santana looked at him incredulously. “Hobbit, what the fuck is your point? Because, honestly, you're starting to piss me off.”

Kurt was about to finally agree with her on something when he heard a sudden gasp.

“Oh my god.” Mike whispered in awe. When everyone's eyes turned to him, he stood up and walked to the board.

“Two superheroes, created by Marvel. Iron Man's name is Tony Stark and Captain America is Steve Rogers.” He started talking excitedly. “This guy used the name from one of them and the last name from the other, “S” being a link between them.” He finished, still staring at the board in amazement.

Kurt and Santana stared at him like he had suddenly grown a second head, but Blaine looked at the agent with his eyebrows raised in surprise. “Impressive.” He said quietly, nodding to Mike who shrugged with a small smile.

“Alright.” Kurt said, recovering from the shock. “So we know that this guy was probably somehow involved. He's most likely already gone, there's no way we're going to find him.” He finished bitterly.

“Not necessarily.” Blaine said. When Kurt looked at him with a mixture of hope and skepticism, Blaine winked. “Don't underestimate me, gorgeous. Do you have a clean sheet of paper and a pencil?”

Kurt searched through the papers on the table and found a clear page from some notebook. He pushed it over the table to Blaine, along with a pencil.

“I happen to know a lot of Smythe's associates, but only one of them is fanatically obsessed with Marvel.” He said as he sat down and started sketching. He was working in silence for a while, completely ignoring the agents in the room. Slowly, the man's face emerged from under Blaine's skilled hand. After a few more minutes, he put the pencil down. “It'll do.” He muttered quietly to himself and lifted his head to look at the agents. “Who questioned all these people?” He asked.

“I did.” Santana said, looking at him curiously, no longer shooting daggers at the forger.

“Was there anyone looking like this man?” Blaine asked as he showed her the drawing.

Santana's eyes widened. “Definitely. He was the one working in the lobby of this building.”

Blaine smirked triumphantly. “Ladies and gentlemen, let me introduce you to Hunter Clarington.” He said as he turned the picture to Kurt and Mike. “Smythe's most trusted friend, I think they've known each other since high school.”

Kurt looked silently at the sketch, trying not to let himself get too excited. But they finally had something solid, something more than assumptions and useless rumors so he couldn't help but to feel a little hopeful.

“Do you know where he lives?” He asked Blaine.

The forger shook his head. “If he knew, and I suppose he did, Sebastian never mentioned it.”

Kurt nodded in acknowledgement and turned to Mike. “Mike, go and run the name through all the bases, I want this guy's address or wherever he might be. And take the sketch downstairs, and run it through the facial recognition, maybe something will come up. We have to find him.”

Mike nodded without a word, still looking quite impressed as he left the room, was it by Blaine's drawing skills or by discovering the connection to his favorite comics - Kurt had no idea.

In the meanwhile, Blaine leaned back in the chair and propped his feet on the table. He ignored the glare Kurt sent in his direction and put his hands behind his head.

“I'm here for less than one hour and you already know way much more than you managed to find out during these last five years.” He said in a bored tone. “Seriously, what do they teach you in Quantico?” He asked, eyeing the agents scornfully.

“Well, we caught you, didn't we?” Kurt asked snidely.

Blaine snorted. “Yeah, only thanks to Smythe. If he hadn't tipped you off, you'd have never found me.”

“Sure, whatever helps you sleep at night.” Kurt said, sounding way more confident than he actually felt. He wanted to believe that he would have found Anderson even without Smythe's help, but, to be honest, Blaine had been one of the most intelligent criminals he'd ever encountered. Things hadn't been looking well those five years ago. Kurt would never admit it to Blaine, but he was right – Smythe's call had been crucial for his case.

“Can I talk to you for a second?” He heard Santana ask and looked up to see her smiling at him sweetly. Too sweetly.

“Sure.” He said, eyeing her warily. “Let's go to my office. You-“ He turned to Blaine.”-stay here.”

The forger shrugged. “Yeah, because there are so many places I could go to right now.”

Kurt didn't bother with answering and led Santana out of the conference room, to his office, which was right next door. He closed the door and turned to her, only to find her already sitting behind his desk.

“I like him.” She said with a smirk.

“He just called you a stripper.” Kurt said incredulously.

“Exactly. It takes some balls to do that, he has my respect.” Kurt kept staring at her. “Plus, don't even get me started on the sexual tension between you two, wanky.” She added, fanning herself.

“What?!” Kurt exclaimed, petrified. “What on earth are you talking about?!”

Santana's smirk got even wider. “Oh, please. You so want to bone him.”

“I hate him, Santana.” Kurt said, rolling his eyes.

“I don't see how that is a problem.” She shrugged. “Come on, Porcelain. Look me in the eye and tell me you don't think he's hot.” She looked at him challengingly.

“He's… attractive.” Kurt said unsurely, knowing he just let himself get caught in Santana's trap. Seeing her looking at him skeptically, he threw his hands in the air. “Fine, okay! I'm not blind. I might find him hot, that doesn't mean I want to sleep with him!” He lowered his voice to a frantic whisper, as if someone could hear him.

“He'd totally go for it, you know. He keeps checking your ass out all the time.” Santana said, looking boringly at her nails.

Kurt shook his head incredulously, looking scandalized. “Why are we even talking about this? There's nothing between Anderson and me. And why would you even suggest something like that? You know that the intimate relationships between the CIs and their handlers are strictly forbidden. So, where are you even going with this conversation?” He said, words tumbling out of his mouth at the speed of a bullet.

“You see, he's technically not your CI. CIs don't live with their handlers, nor do they spend every minute of their day joined by the hip. This deal you have with him isn't regulated anywhere, so…”

“Enough.” Kurt cut her off. “It's not going to happen, I don't even know why you…” He rubbed his temples tiredly. “Nevermind. We're done talking about it.”

“Just looking out for you, Porcelain.” Santana said as she got up and passed him on her way to the door. She smirked at him one last time and walked out of the room.

Kurt stared after her, unable to move for a few seconds. Even after knowing Santana for so long, she still managed to throw him for a loop every now and then. This time, she completely lost her mind though, he was pretty sure of that. So he decided to do what had worked best for him for years – ignore her.

The rest of the day passed uneventfully. While Mike and Santana were working on finding Clarington, Kurt decided to collect the files and reports from all the previous cases in which Smythe was a suspect, hoping Anderson would shed some light on them. Maybe he would notice something they didn't, something that would help them learn more about Sebastian or anything about his whereabouts. Kurt had never been fond of asking for help, he'd always been fine on his own, but Blaine had the kind of knowledge and experience none of them could ever have and, as much as it pained Kurt to admit it – they needed him.

Kurt put all the files in his bag and glanced through the glass wall into the conference room where Blaine was sitting. He was drawing something, looking completely lost in it, like nothing else mattered in that moment. Kurt smiled bitterly. Oh, how he wished Blaine would behave like this when they were alone in the apartment, his life would be so much calmer and easier. But, unfortunately, the forger apparently had some kind of mission which consisted purely of making Kurt's life a living hell. The agent groaned tiredly at the thought of another snapping fight with Blaine, hating him is so exhausting, he thought.

Kurt walked closer and knocked loudly on the glass. Blaine's head snapped up and when he met his gaze, Kurt jerked his head in the general direction of the lower part of the office. Blaine rolled his eyes, but he got up and walked to the door, putting his leather jacket on and stuffing the folded drawing in his pocket and Kurt exited his office to meet him in the hallway.

“I have some homework for you.” He said, smiling sweetly.

“Fantastic.” Blaine spoke in a monotone, barely gazing at Kurt as they walked down the stairs and headed to the elevators.

They didn't talk during the ride back home, though, when Kurt thought about it, they never talked. They only ever snapped or yelled at each other. Not that he minded the silence, not at all. When they entered the apartment, Blaine almost instantly moved in the direction of his room, only slowing down to pet Satine on his way.

“Hey.” Kurt said, effectively stopping the forger. He pulled the documents from his bag and handed them to Blaine. “Those are the files about all the crimes we think Smythe committed. If you could…”

“Yeah, yeah, sure.” Blaine said offhandedly, taking the files. “What would you do without me, pretty boy?” He added and winked before disappearing into his room.

Kurt shook his head and walked to his own bedroom to get changed. He didn't feel like cooking anything, so he decided to order the food from his favourite take-out place. As he dialed the number, he wondered briefly if Anderson had anything against Thai food, but he quickly dismissed the concern, that wasn't his problem at all. After placing his order (he made it big enough for two, he might hate the guy, but he wasn't a total asshole) he plopped on the couch, deciding to kill time and distract himself from hunger by watching TV. Just as he was about to turn it on, he heard the music, the same melody that Blaine played in the morning. Only this time, after few chords, he also heard a voice – Blaine was singing.

Vivo per lei da quando sai

La prima volta l'ho incontrata,

Non mi ricordo come ma

Mi è entrata dentro e c'è restata

His voice was growing stronger with each verse, sounding raw and passionate. Kurt sat there mesmerized, with his mouth wide open and couldn't believe his ears, because that was truly one of the most beautiful things he'd ever heard. He already knew Blaine was talented, judging by the way he played in the morning, but now, after hearing his voice, he was even more impressed and stunned. And he was singing in Italian.

È una musa che ci invita

A sfiorarla con le dita,

Atraverso un pianoforte

La morte è lontana,

Io vivo per lei

Kurt listened in awe as Blaine poured his heart into the song, even though he didn't understand what it was about. But he didn't have to understand to know that it was special to Blaine, he could hear it in the tone of his voice as he sang with so much power and devotion.

Vivo per lei nient'altro ho

E quanti altri incontrerò

Che come me hanno scritto in viso:

Io vivo per lei

Kurt closed his eyes as he listened to the beautiful song, wondering what caused that unexpected flow of emotions. He also wondered if Blaine was aware of the fact that Kurt could hear him perfectly well, or if he was so lost in the playing that it didn't matter to him. It seemed odd for him, especially because Blaine was a master in hiding his emotions, but here he was, completely unguarded. It was surprisingly a nice change. Suddenly, Kurt's brain somehow connected the dots and the name of the song came back to his memory, and he hastily typed it into his phone to remember it for later and maybe google the translation.

Vivo per lei perché oramai

Io non ho altra via d'uscita,

Perché la musica lo sai

Davvero non l'ho mai tradita.

Vivo per lei perché mi da

Pause e note in libertà

Ci fosse un'altra vita la vivo,

La vivo per lei

With the last notes, the music vanished and the silence filling the apartment suddenly seemed deafening to Kurt. He didn't know what to do next, pretend he didn't hear anything if Blaine came from his room or just brush it off, he was at a loss.

He was suddenly startled by the ring of the doorbell. He walked to the door, paid for the food and got back to the kitchen, moving like he was in a trance. Listening to Blaine singing like that made him realize that there were more sides to the forger than he knew. And now he was intrigued, and all he wanted to do was solve the mystery that was Blaine Anderson.

He couldn't explain why he started singing. At first he just wanted to play the familiar melody, but when it emerged from under his fingers, something in him snapped. His voice somehow found its way out and once he started, he couldn't stop. So he didn't, he kept singing his heart out, not really caring that, somewhere in the apartment, Hummel could probably hear everything. It didn't matter.

Vivo per lei la musica.

Io vivo per lei

Vivo per lei è unica

Io vivo per lei

Io vivo per lei

Io vivo

Per lei

He finished softly, singing the last verses quietly to himself. Blaine smiled. Even being out of prison didn't make him one hundred percent free, not yet, but when he was singing?

He felt more alive and free than he felt in ages. And suddenly, he felt happy.