Chapter 5

“Oh god.” The man under him gasped as Blaine sucked the trail of marks on his pale neck. He thrust his hips hard, eliciting a long moan from the man. He sped his movements, changing slightly the angle, making his lover scream out in ecstasy. Pinning the man's wrists above his head, he kissed him roughly and kept pounding into him mercilessly.

“Look at me.” He rasped. “Look at me.”

He punctuated each word with a nibble on the man's neck and with one particularly sharp thrust the man opened his eyes and Blaine was struck by how blue they were. He took in the face of his lover, those piercing eyes, flushed cheeks, kiss swollen lips… God, he was beautiful.

Blaine's eyes snapped open. He was panting heavily and closed his eyes again, trying to catch his breath. He slowly sat up and looked around, he was still in his room. Alone. It was just a dream. Blaine was used to having them, but the men he was with were always faceless. He groaned, as he plopped back on the bed. God, he needed to get laid, it had been forever. And Hummel, parading around in the fitted suits or those damn tight jeans that made his ass look fabulous, wasn't making it any easier. Blaine groaned again. As much as he hated Hummel, he'd love nothing more than to pin him down on the bed, leave marks on his pale body and fuck him relentlessly into the mattress, making him scream Blaine's name.  Blaine quickly shook his head. He couldn't believe he was even considering it, he was a fed. Blaine got up from the bed and quietly exited his room. To Blaine's relief, the agent was nowhere to be seen – the last thing Blaine needed was Hummel catching him sneaking to the bathroom with a hard on. He quickly locked the bathroom door behind him and started the shower. He stepped under the spray of hot water and closed his eyes. After a while, he leaned back against the cool tile wall and started stroking himself slowly. Gradually, his hand sped up and even though he tried not to, he couldn't help but imagine Hummel right there on his knees, his lips wrapped around Blaine's cock and looking up at him with those wide blue eyes. He moaned quietly and twisted his wrist. He imagined grabbing this chestnut hair and fucking deeply into Hummel's mouth, making him take it. It took only a couple of strokes more and Blaine came with a long moan, harder than he had in ages.

He stood motionlessly for a few moments before opening his eyes and quickly washing himself. He walked out of the shower and looked in the mirror. His reflection stared right back and him and Blaine sighed, running fingers through his wet curls.

He was so fucked.

Hearing the shower start, Kurt decided to head to the kitchen to start preparing some breakfast for himself, and was just exiting his bedroom, stretching lazily, when he heard a sound. A sound that made him stop dead in his tracks, mid-yawn and arms still above his head. A moan. The kind of moan that could unmistakably only come from one thing. And it shouldn't mean a thing, but Kurt could suddenly feel heat boiling inside him, and he quickly tried to shake off this feeling. It was just a moan, Blaine Anderson's moan and it shouldn't do anything to Kurt, but, unfortunately, his cock hadn't exactly got that memo. He hastily scrambled back to his bedroom when he heard the water stop and leaned back against the door and breathed deeply. Think about dead kittens and boobs, dead kittens and boobs…, Kurt thought frantically, trying to tame the sudden desire that seemed to spread to every cell of his body. After a few moments, his heart stopped pounding heavily; his body seemed to cool down, which made him quietly sigh in relief, even though he was still half-hard. Suddenly, he heard the bathroom door open and immediately held his breath, even though the rational part of his brain kept telling him that it wasn't necessary, there was no way Blaine could have known he was standing there. Well, apparently, rational wasn't Kurt's strong suit this morning.

When the sound of Blaine's footsteps faded away and Kurt heard him moving around in the kitchen, he quickly made up his mind. He opened the door and calmly went to the bathroom, not wanting to alert Blaine. When he locked the door behind him, he sighed in relief. He needed a shower, a very cold shower and he needed it right now. After taking his clothes off, he forced himself under the ice-cold spray of water which effectively killed not only his boner, but probably also the remains of his good mood. Slightly shivering, he stepped out from the shower and quickly dressed himself. Damn libido, he thought grumpily, already knowing his day was going to suck, even though it barely started. It had been so long since the last time he had sex, swamped with work, busy hunting Smythe, and that's what Kurt decided to blame for his body's reactions to Anderson walking around shirtless, in sweats hanging low on his hips and moaning in the shower. It had to be it, because it was absolutely impossible for Kurt to be even remotely attracted to that dickhead. It was just his human body, reacting that way for purely biological reasons. Fortunately, he had his brain to do the thinking and stop him from doing anything stupid.

Right? Right.

Satisfied with his reasoning, Kurt walked out of the bathroom and stepped in the living room, and noticed Blaine sitting on one of the bar stools, filling his bowl with cereal and milk. Saying nothing, he walked past him and busied himself in the kitchen, making his own breakfast.

“Anything on Clarington?” Blaine suddenly asked, breaking the silence.

Kurt looked up from the fruits he was cutting and found Blaine leaning on the counter, chewing slowly, and damn, nobody should look that attractive while eating cereal. The black curls, still slightly wet after the shower Blaine took, and sparkling hazel eyes weren't making Kurt's situation any better.

We talked about it, Kurt scolded himself. Focus, Hummel.

“Still nothing.” Kurt answered evenly, but unable to keep the bitterness from his voice. “His last known address is Columbus, Ohio, but he hasn't actually lived there in years.”

“Oh, sweet, beautiful Ohio.” Blaine said quietly, the disdain evident in his voice.

“You don't seem very fond of your home state.” Kurt stated with an eyebrow raised.

“Not the best place for guys like me.” Blaine said. “Or you. A pretty boy like you wouldn't survive a week.” He added, briefly eyeing Kurt up and turning his attention back to the bowl of cereal.

Kurt's eyes narrowed and any remains of desire he had left in his body were instantly replaced by pure irritation. “That's interesting…” He started and if a glare could kill, Blaine would have been dead already. “…considering the fact that I'm from Lima, born and raised.” He finished the sentence basically hissing, the anger seeping through his voice.

Blaine glanced at him and gave him a dubious look, but his expression quickly turned into a surprised one when he noticed Kurt's death glare. “Wait, you're not kidding?” He asked, basically choking on his breakfast.

“Why would you think that?” Kurt gritted out, clenching his fists to ground himself, because he already knew where this conversation was going.

“Because you're…” Blaine started, gesturing with his hands, trying to find the right words and failing miserably. “…you. You look like a perfect prey for all the ignorant people, how did you even make it? Tell me your secret, pretty boy, home schooling? Private school?”

By the time Blaine finished talking, Kurt was seeing red and shaking with anger. He slowly walked to the counter and leaned forward to look Blaine straight in the eyes. “And I actually thought that you were intelligent and had some class. Looks like there's nothing extraordinary about you after all, you're just an ignorant, judgmental asshole, a model native of Ohio.” He said venomously. “Well, guess what, Anderson. Some people don't need their parents' money to get through the teenage years.” He added pointedly, remembering what he read about Blaine and his family's financial situation in the file the FBI had on him.

As soon as he said that, he knew he hit the sore spot. Blaine jerked back and stood up, and even though Kurt wasn't afraid of him, he took a step back at the sight of anger flaring up in his eyes, despite the counter between them.

“Yes, what a blessed life I had. You have no idea how fantastic it has been, especially since I turned eighteen. It became so swell after that, because that's when mommy and daddy dearest had absolutely no legal obstacles and could freely kick their only son from the house for being a fucking fag.” Blaine said darkly and Kurt's eyes widened in shock, because he didn't know that.

Heavy silence filled the apartment as both men stood motionlessly, Blaine staring blankly at the book shelves, his fists clenched and Kurt trying to comprehend what he'd just heard. He was still kind of mad, but all the annoyance he felt seemed to suddenly vanish, replaced by… sympathy?

“I'm sorry.” Kurt said quietly.

Blaine scoffed. “Like you care.” He muttered and turned around, presumably to walk to his bedroom.

“You're an asshole.” Kurt stated firmly and saw Blaine stop and shake his head, but he continued before the forger could say anything. “But nobody deserves something like that. So I'm sorry.”

Blaine stared at him with an unreadable expression in his eyes and Kurt shifted uncomfortably. Usually he handled awkward silences quite well, but something about Anderson was always making him nervous and he had absolutely no idea why. Fortunately, before things could get even more awkward, Kurt was saved by his phone ringing in his bedroom. He quickly walked past Blaine, into his room, and grabbed the phone from the nightstand.

“Hey, Mike, what's up?” He answered in a rush, walking back to the living room.

Blaine watched as Hummel's eyes widened comically and how he basically ran past him to the kitchen area, downed the coffee in one gulp, the phone never leaving his ear.

“Alright, we'll be there soon.” He said and hung up. He was moving around the kitchen efficiently, like a robot, but he stopped at Blaine's questioning gaze.

“Clarington.” He explained hastily. “They found him and brought him to interrogation. He still thinks we think his real name's Tony Rogers though.” He added and Blaine didn't miss the small smirk ghosting on his face.

Kurt quickly put the dishes in the sink and jogged to his room. “We're leaving in ten!” He shouted and shut his door behind him.

Blaine stood there, slightly dumbfounded by the Hummel tornado that just swept through the apartment. Shaking himself out of it and went to his room to get changed. True to his word, the agent was ready exactly 7 minutes later and before Blaine knew it, they were already on their way to the Bureau, neither mentioning the conversation they had in the kitchen. When they reached the office, Hummel led them to the interrogation rooms. He gestured at the door for Blaine to come in and the forger found himself in the observation room, allowing him to watch the interrogation without being seen. He looked through the glass and saw Clarington seating on the chair, wearing a bored expression on his face. Oh, if you only knew how truly screwed you are, Blaine thought with satisfaction. Suddenly, the door behind him opened and when Blaine turned his head he saw that Asian agent, Mike, enter the room. He stood by his side and watched Clarington as intently as Blaine.

“Show time.” Mike said with a smirk as Kurt entered the interrogation room and took a seat on the other side of the table.

Kurt leaned back on the chair and eyed the man sitting in front of him. His posture was confident and he wore a bored, neutral expression on his face.

“Thank you for coming, Mr. Rogers.” He started conversationally.

“Well, it didn't seem like I had much of a choice.” Clarington said, corner of his mouth twitching slightly. “I assume this is about the diamond stolen from my boss? How can I help you, agent…?

“Hummel.”  Kurt supplied. “A few things came up during our investigation and I'd like to ask you if you could clear some of them for us.”

“I'm all ears.” The man smiled kindly. “Always happy to help.”

Kurt smirked. “Okay, why don't we start with the easiest question. Tell me, Mr. Rogers, are you okay with me calling you that or would you rather prefer being addressed as Mr. Clarington?” He asked and watched how the smile fell from the man's face and how his eyes widened almost comically.

Blaine huffed and glared at him disdainfully through the glass separating them from the interrogation room.

“Look at him.” He said to Mike. “Hummel caught him completely off guard and you can read it all over his face.”

“It's weird though.” Mike said thoughtfully. “He's been doing it for a while now, you'd think he'd be more prepared to push the suspicions away from himself.”

“His confidence lost him.” Blaine said quietly. “He's never been put in a situation like this before and he never thought he would. In his mind there was no way you could connect him to Smythe and to any of the robberies he helped with. And without me, you'd never do that.” Blaine said, smiling slightly. “Which doesn't change the fact that he's a total idiot, you can never assume you're untouchable. You always have to be ready and have a plan B.” Blaine rolled his eyes. “I bet even Hummel is going to break him in less than ten minutes. Anyone would.”

Mike glanced at him. “Don't underestimate him. He's the best.” He smirked. “He may not look like it, but he's one of the toughest and sneakiest agents here, they didn't make him run the whole team for no reason.”

“Right.” Blaine scoffed and focused back on the two men in the interrogation room.

Hunter cleared his throat and tried to school his expression into what he thought was a neutrally surprised one, failing miserably. Kurt found the attempt both endearing and totally pathetic as he calmly studied Clarington's face, enjoying seeing the panic in his eyes and the droplets of sweat that started to appear on his forehead.

“I don't know what you're talking about…?” He stuttered out, shifting nervously on his seat.

Kurt raised his eyebrow skeptically. “Are you asking me?” He asked with amusement and he could imagine Anderson rolling his eyes and muttering something sarcastic under his breath.

And this wasn't the time to think about Blaine or his reactions, no.

“You're such a terrible liar.” Kurt laughed loudly, not able to stop himself. “Tell me something, how on earth did you manage not to get locked up for such a long time?” He asked, genuinely curious, because this man was as transparent as crystal and he couldn't comprehend how he was the accomplice of one of the most skilled criminals Kurt had ever dealt with.

“You can't prove any of that.” Hunter said in a pitchy voice. “You have to release me, you have no right to keep me here!” He exclaimed, slightly hysterically.

“Oh, I don't know.” Kurt replied nonchalantly. “Working under a false name at the place of robbery and knowing Smythe from high school while he's our main and only suspect seems like a reason good enough.”

At Hunter's bewildered expression, he smirked. “Yes, Clarington, we know stuff like that.”

Thanks to your former co-worker, but let's skip that fact.

Hunter's breathing visibly sped up he literally looked like a deer caught in the headlights, and Kurt really shouldn't be enjoying it that much.

“So, why don't you start talking and tell me how exactly you stole the diamond and, most importantly, where I can find Smythe.” He said, leaning forward, scanning Hunter with a calm expression. Apparently, Clarington decided to give him the silent treatment and stubbornly kept staring at the wall behind Kurt, completely unaware that he was basically looking straight into Blaine's eyes. In the observation room, the forger was watching him with pity when suddenly a thought popped into his head.

“He was working at the lobby, right? He asked and Mike nodded, looking at him curiously.

“So he was probably the one that handled the post?” Seeing Mike nod again, he smiled. “I think I know how they got the diamond out of the building. I know the cameras were disabled, but do you have the footage from the days before the alarm?”

Mike didn't answer right away, already typing on the laptop he brought with him. “Yeah, the gallery gave it to us when we started the investigation.” He said as he opened the first video file, showing the lobby of the building.

“Alright, look.” Blaine said, pointing on the screen. “Here, on his desk, there's a box, everyone leaves the letters and papers they want to send and, every day, a postman comes to take them and it's the receptionist's job to make sure everything goes smoothly.”

As they watched video after video, it turned out that Blaine was right. Hunter was there, talking to the postman every day, but nothing besides that.

“Okay, here's the footage from the day before they discovered the diamond was missing.” Mike said, hitting the play button.

“That's it.” Blaine said immediately after the video started. “Look how he's fidgeting on his seat and keeps staring at the front door. He's nervous and he's waiting for something or someone.”

And sure enough, when the postman arrived, Hunter, besides the usual stack of letters, gave him a small package; a package of the size ideally fitting the stolen diamond.

Blaine smirked triumphantly and Mike shook his head with a smile. He couldn't help but like the forger and he had a feeling that if they had met under different circumstances, they would have become great friends.

“Nice job.” He said and raised his fist and Blaine, only after a short moment of hesitation, bumped it with his own. Mike grinned. “I'll go tell Kurt.”

He knocked loudly on the glass and Kurt turned his head slightly at the noise. He stood up, smiling at Hunter. “Excuse me for a moment.” He said kindly and exited the room to find Mike waiting for him. His eyes widened as his friend quietly explained what they had found out, well, what Blaine figured out.

“Can you zoom in and make out the address on the box?” Kurt asked just as quietly, so Clarington couldn't hear them through the door.

Mike shook his head. “No, it's blurred. Sorry.”

“That's fine. I can work with that.” Kurt winked and went back to the room.

“So.” He started as he sat back down. “Sending it by post? Weren't you afraid it would get lost or something?” He asked conversationally, barely stopping himself from laughing when Hunter's jaw basically hit the table. When the man did nothing besides staring at him owlishly, Kurt sighed and leaned back on the chair to stretch.

“You know, there's no point in being so stubborn.” He said lightly. “We can already connect you to a few previous hits you helped Smythe with.” That was a little bluff, but Kurt was pretty sure Anderson could easily provide them with that kind of information, so it was worth a shot. “You have nothing to lose.”

Hunter, no longer hyperventilating, was looking at him intensely, probably weighing his options. Seeing his struggle, Kurt pushed the clean sheet of paper along with a pen in his direction.

“Where did you send the diamond?” He asked quietly.

Hunter eyed the paper warily and, sighing with resignation, scribbled the address. “It's not like you're going to find it. It's long gone by now.” He said, smirking smugly, seeming very proud of himself and of the way he handled the situation. Well, the way he thought he handled the situation.

Kurt smiled, snickering internally at the man's naivety. “Oh, I know.” He said nonchalantly. “That's why you're going to tell me everything you know about Sebastian Smythe. His apartments, storages, hideouts. Everything.”

Hunter looked at him in disbelief. “Do you actually think I know that stuff?” He asked incredulously. “Man, Sebastian is crazy about keeping all of this a secret; the only way to find him is when he contacts you. I may have known him for a while, but I have no idea about where he lives or works or whatever. There was only one person that knew things like that.” He said with a smirk. “Anderson. You could probably visit him in jail, but I doubt anything he tells you is up-to-date, Bas probably changed everything after he got rid of him.”

“Got rid of him, huh?” Kurt asked, pretending not to have a clue about the anonymous caller's identity. “Why would he do that?”

Apparently, Hunter didn't have any inhibitions left, because he answered right away. “Anderson was being all classy and noble, avoided any mess or complications. He was so fucking talented, but was also becoming inconvenient. He even called 911 once, when Bas shot a guy!” He exclaimed disbelievingly as if he expected Kurt to show any understanding in the matter.

“Outrageous, really.” Kurt muttered sarcastically.

 “And Bas didn't want Anderson's moral code to interfere with his plans and ambitions, so he set him up.” Hunter continued, completely missing Kurt's remark. “It was brilliant, I wish I could have seen Anderson's face.”

Kurt could only imagine how livid Blaine was at the moment and he silently hoped that Mike would be able to stop him, in case the forger decided to barge in and strangle Hunter with his bare hands. Just to be careful though, he decided to end Clarington's praises about Smythe, hoping he would reveal something actually relevant to their current case.

“Let's get back on track.” Kurt interrupted decisively. “So you know nothing? Nothing that can help me find Smythe?” He asked, growing impatient, the initial hope he felt slowly vanishing away as he realized that the interrogation was going to result to be mostly fruitless.

“He's only ever called me from unknown numbers and we always met in a different place to discuss the details.” Hunter said, shrugging.

“That's better than nothing.” Kurt muttered. “Give me the addresses of those places.” Seeing Hunter opening his mouth to speak up, he raised his hand to stop him; he was done and beyond annoyed with this man. “No questions, just write them down.”

When he did as told, Kurt grabbed the paper and left the room, basically colliding with Santana in the hall.

“Whoa, easy there, Porcelain.” She said, regaining her balance. “You look like shit.” She added as she studied his face.

Kurt groaned. “I just hate interrogations like that, nothing useful came up, so I basically wasted my time with that idiot.”

“Well, good news, hobbit pointed me to a few cases that Clarington allegedly worked on, and I managed to find him on the footage from the streets and coffee shops around the crime scenes, so that should be more than enough to keep him locked up.” She said with a smirk.

“Awesome. I just wish it would be Smythe that we're locking up.” Kurt said quietly, the weariness seeping through his voice.

“Chin up, Hummel.” Santana said, walking away, leaving him in the empty hall. “You'll get him.”

Kurt stood there for a minute before slowly heading in the direction of the main office. He really hoped she was right.

As the day went on, Kurt grew more and more tired and irritated. Two agents on his team forgot to hand in the paperwork that was due two days ago. After he reprimanded them, he was walking back to his office and one of the rookies tripped and spilled the entire pot of coffee on him and he barely stopped himself from biting the poor woman's head off. As he was changing in the spare suit he kept in his room, he was grateful that at least Anderson wasn't bothering him at the moment, after the fight they had that morning, he wasn't exactly sure how to act around him. Mike, being as perceptive as always, noticed the tension and exhaustion in Kurt's eyes and decided to take care of babysitting Anderson and from what Kurt could see from his office, they were actually getting along quite well. It was… new. Blaine was still keeping his distance, but seeing him interact so freely with another agent was rather unsettling and kind of confusing.

Kurt sighed in relief when he glanced at the clock and it was finally time to go home. He went down to the lower part of the office and collected Anderson from Mike's desk. He was quiet during the ride home and as they reached the front door to the apartment, Kurt actually let himself hope for a nice, peaceful evening, without all the snapping and bickering. Oh, how wrong he was.

“Took you long enough to make Clarington talk.” Blaine said casually as they entered the living room. “Not that he said anything relevant.” He added with a smirk.

Kurt took a deep breath and decided to ignore the forger, hoping he would let it go.

“Come on, gorgeous, don't be like that.” Blaine's teasing voice stopped him as he was walking to his bedroom.

“Stop calling me that.” He said quietly without turning around, his fists clenched tightly.

“Nah.” Blaine replied and when Kurt looked at him, he was leaning against the door between the living room and the hall, wearing that damned smirk on his face. “It's too much fun, you're making it so easy.”

That was too much for Kurt. After the horrible day he had, he didn't have any strength left in him. In a few long strides he crossed the room and harshly pinned Anderson against the door.

“God, why do you have to be so annoying?” He asked angrily, keeping the vice grip on the leather jacket the forger was wearing.

If Blaine was surprised by Kurt's sudden action, he didn't show it. “Relax, handsome, you're going to give yourself a headache.” He said mockingly.

“Don't. Call. Me. That.” Kurt growled lowly.

“You look hot when you're angry, pretty boy.” Blaine smirked, his eyes darkening slightly.

“Shut up.” Kurt snarled, punctuating each word with pushing the forger harder against the door.

“Make me.” Blaine whispered challengingly, his breath ghosting on Kurt's face.

Hearing him saying that, combined with all the emotions, the anger and hatred that flooded Kurt's body was the last straw. All of the snide remarks, the blows they exchanged in the morning, all of this came back to him, making his blood boil, and, without thinking, he yanked Blaine forward and crashed their lips together.