The next day, Blaine stuck to Kurt like glue. He was determined to show Quinn that he meant business and that nothing would happen to Kurt, not while he was there. He waited outside the front gates before school started, greeting Kurt when he finally arrived and walked to class with him. He sat next to Kurt in every class the had and spent the entirety of the lessons watching him out of the corner of his eye. 

Okay, so maybe he was being a little over the top but it was necessary. All day, whenever he passed someone in the halls or in the classrooms, they would whisper and stare at him. Word must have gotten 'round about his little number Yesterday. It made Blaine want to tear his hair out at all the unwanted attention. Maybe Quinn was right and he should've just kept his mouth shut.

"Don't let them get to you," Kurt said as they sat down for lunch in the courtyard, "they're just jealous. It has been quite some time since someone put Jesse in his place like that."

Hearing Kurt's words did make him feel better but that wasn't going to change the fact that he was the talk of the school and that was bad. For himself and Kurt.

"That's right, Blaine," Rachel piped up from where she was nibbling on some kind of tofu sandwich. "Being a performer is all about making yourself known and being the best. Don't let anyone tell you otherwise."

"Thanks, Rachel," Blaine said through gritted teeth because everything she had just said was the exact opposite of what he was supposed to be doing.

Blaine shook his head and took a bite of his pizza. He frowned at the spiciness of the food. He'd only gotten one with cheese and pepperoni, yet the heat was slowly rising inside his throat. Blaine let out a fit of strangled coughs as his throat all but closed up by the intensity of the searing scorch. 

Kurt was thumping him on the back asking over and over if he was okay. Rachel quickly thrust a bottle of water into his hands and he drank greedily, the cool liquid rushing down his throat and calming the heat in his mouth. He drained the bottle and shook his head in confusion.

At that moment, a chorus of cackling laughter filled the air. Blaine whipped his head around to see Jesse sitting in the centre of a large group of people, all pointing and laughing at him. Blaine caught Jesse's eye and the boy winked at him.

"Jesse!" Rachel screeched.

Confused, Blaine peered down at his pizza. It was only now that he noticed the slices of pepperoni were a shade lighter than usual and realised they must've been some kind of ridiculously spicy salami. Not only that but there were tiny flakes of orange, Blaine recognised as chilli flakes, peppered all over the slices. 

Glaring, Blaine span around, stood up and faced Jesse.

"What is your problem!?" he yelled, fuming with rage.

Jesse simply quirked an eyebrow and smirked, "I don't have a problem, Blaine. It's not my fault you can't take the heat." He looked him straight in the eye and added, "Maybe you just don't belong here."

The crowd, that was now watching, with bated breath. Blaine clenched his fists, every retort and snarky comment imaginable on the tip of his tongue and ready to be released in an onslaught of insults. But then he remembered Quinn's words and his promise to himself to lay low. Blowing up wasn't going to help anyone. He looked at Kurt, who was staring at him quizzically and slowly sank down to his seat.

Jesse smiled smugly and clapped deliberately.

"There we go," he said slowly, seeming to drink in the sight of power being handed over to him. "Now was that so hard?"

"You know what?!" Kurt suddenly snapped, drawing in all the attention, "forget you." He rose from his seat and tugged Blaine with him, leading him out of the courtyard. "Don't worry about him, Blaine," he said loud enough for everyone to hear, "Jesse knows he can't out-sing you, so he has to resort to cheap tricks, which, by the way, are lame."

Blaine was to shocked to take in all the low oohs coming from the the crowd and instead followed Kurt, leaving Jesse to be torn apart by Rachel. Kurt didn't stop until they reached a secluded classroom. He released Blaine and dug out a small red packet from his bag.

"Here," he held out the packet of cough lollies to Blaine, "take one. They always help me when I get a sore throat."

"Thanks," Blaine murmured, taking one and leaning back on an empty desk.

Blaine stood in silence as Kurt paced back and forth around the room, muttering, "I can't believe that guy. What a jerk! Who does he think he is?"

Eventually, Blaine had had enough and caught ahold of Kurt's wrist to stop him. Kurt looked at him in question and Blaine sighed.

"Kurt, it's okay," Blaine told him quietly.

Kurt ripped his hand away, his face screwed up in anger.

"No, Blaine!" he shouted, "It is most certainly not okay!"

Blaine flinched as Kurt's voice rose, not liking to be the target of Kurt's anger.

"And what happened out there?" Kurt questioned, turning suspicious. "Yesterday, you bit back at whatever Jesse said but now…you're just rolling over and taking it?"

Blaine looked up when he heard the disappointment in Kurt's voice and it broke his heart to hear Kurt say that about him. Kurt's eyes were sad and he was looking at Blaine like he was a different person the the guy he had met Yesterday.

"I wanted to," Blaine assured him quickly. "I just didn't want to cause a stir. Get any…unwanted attention."

Kurt's gaze softened and he sat next to Blaine on the desk top. He wrung his hands together and looked at Blaine with apologetic eyes.

"Sorry," he mumbled, "I just can't stand bullies. Especially ones like Jesse, who think they're better than everyone else."

Blaine took in Kurt's set jaw and remembered Artie's words. That Kurt had to leave his school for a year because of people bullying him about his being gay.

Hesitating for a moment, Blaine put a hand on Kurt's shoulder and gripped it in reassurance. Kurt managed a smile, which caused Blaine to smile. 

"Don't worry," Blaine grinned, "I'm a better singer, right?"

Kurt's smile widened and he laughed a bit.

"Yes," he chuckled, "you definitely are."

Blaine felt happy and sated when Kurt said that. It pleased him that Kurt thought he was good at something and that was saying a lot because Kurt had the voice of a freaking angel. 

Patting his knee, Kurt hopped off the desk and gestured for Blaine to follow.

"Come on," he prompted, "Let's get out of here. This place smells like my brothers sock drawer."

----------

"It just makes me so mad!" Blaine seethed, pacing around his living room. Now that he was home and away from Kurt, the anger from the events of the morning were replaying themselves over and over in his head.

Rory sat in the centre of the glass square fitted into the floor, fish swimming around underneath him. He'd been seated there for about half an hour, listening to Blaine rant. Usually he would talk to Santana about these things and she would just shoot insults at whoever had pissed Blaine off. But having the placid boy listen to Blaine and be sensible about things was refreshing and welcome.

"I wouldn't worry," Rory offered, tapping the glass, where a fish was following his finger. "That Jesse guy'll get what's comin' to him. The universe'll make sure of that."

"Well, I wish the universe would hurry up," Blaine snapped, falling down onto the sofa. He buried his face into the red leather and let out a long sigh. He turned his head so he was facing Rory.

"How do you do it?" Blaine asked.

"Do what?" Rory said absently, focussed on the aquatic creatures below him.

"Survive your job," Blaine clarified, causing Rory to look up. "You said so yourself you hate it here. How do you put up with it?"

Rory let out a small laugh, shaking his head.

"Honestly, I have no idea," he replied. "The stooges in this place drive me crazy and ma boss makes my head want to explode."

"I don't see how this is helping me," Blaine mumbled.

Rory shrugged, "I guess ya just gotta hold onto that thought this ain't forever. That, one day, ya will be able ta stick it to 'em. At least, I sure hope so."

Blaine propped his head up on his hand. "Why do you work here if you hate it so much?"

"Money," Rory answered instantly, not looking up. "I need it ta help ma mum. She can't work and ma dad does everythin' he can but sometimes it's just not enough."

Blaine furrowed his brow, "doesn't she have anyone else to help her?"

Rory shook his head sadly, "nah, all our family's back in Ireland and no one here really cares." His face brightened up hopefully, "but hopefully once I graduate, I can get a real job and take care of her. It breaks ma heart sometimes to watch her. She tells me it should be the other way around: her taken' care of me."

Blaine wasn't sure what to say in this situation. He had a lot of problems in his life but money was never one of them. He couldn't imagine what it would be like if his mother was too sick to work and he had to support her. And Rory was so young. It didn't seem fair.

"Oh well," Rory shrugged, smiling a little, "this place isn't so bad. At least the old coots here give great tips."

They both exploded into laughter and Blaine accidentally rolled off the couch and onto the hard wood floor with a loud thud! Rory doubled over in laughter and fell onto his back, clutching his side. Blaine wiped a tear and sat up, the laughter dying down in his chest. He let out a sigh and waited for Rory to get himself under control before he started talking.

"I wish I could just laugh everything off," he stated, letting his chin drop onto his palm.

"Who says ya can't?" Rory asked, grinning.

"My boss," Blaine groaned, "she's great at her job but she can be a total grouch sometimes. She's always telling me what I'm doing wrong. I mean, is it so much to ask for just a pat on the back or a 'good job?'"

Rory looked out the glass wall, showing off the gorgeous view of New York at night.

"I would take on the Godzilla of mean bosses if it meant liven' in places like this," Rory said seriously.

Blaine nodded his head in consideration, looking out at all the twinkling lights and shining skyscrapers, reminding him of Kurt's eyes.

"Yeah," he said dreamily, "I guess it's a pretty sweet deal."

----------

"Talk to me," Blaine ordered the next morning, keeping his tracker on him, the flashing red dot (Kurt) was walking through Central Park at a leisurely pace.

Blaine was eager to know what was going on back at HQ. His only source to the place was his ear piece and while Artie was extremely helpful, Blaine still felt anxious not knowing what was going on. He vaguely wondered if Brittany had managed to get any more out of Moriyaki. If Santana had gone on any more missions without him. Not knowing was killing him.

"Okay," Artie said in his ear, "Burt Hummel's house was broken into Yesterday. When he got home, the back lock had been picked and the door was wide open."

"You think it was The Sins?" Blaine guessed, flipping through the report on his laptop.

"I'm not sure," Artie answered, sounding frustrated and confused. "The weird thing is, nothing was taken. The whole place was just ripped apart."

Blaine's eyebrows knitted together. For The Sins to suddenly go out of their way and perform a stunt like this was strange to say the least.

 "So, you're saying they did this out of hate?"

"I doubt it," Artie responded, clicking furiously on his mouse. "The Sins are smart, not to mention really secretive. I don't think they'd blow their cover just to trash a guys place. The only reasonable explanation is that they were looking for something, or someone."

"So you're saying," Blaine slowed down, trying to piece everything together, "that they're not after just Kurt but both the Hummels?"

"That is indeed what I'm saying," Artie confirmed.

Blaine ran a ran through his hair. It was times like these where he wished everything he did didn't have to be a secret. If everything was just out in the open air, it would be so much easier to protect Kurt. He could just tell him he was being targeted by criminals and take him somewhere safe. But that was impossible.

"Maybe The Sins have some beef with the family and they're getting revenge," Blaine suggested then furrowed his brow, "what I don't get is, why the Hummels? They're just your average family."

"Maybe not," Artie countered, sounding excited. "Thing is, after the break-in, Burt didn't call the police."

"What?" Blaine was now even more confused than ever.

"Think about it," Artie insisted, "if you came home one day and your house was trashed, you'd call the cops, right?"

"Right," Blaine agreed, curious as to where this was going.

"So," Artie drawer the word out, "the only reason you wouldn't is if you already knew who did it. That, or you really don't give a damn about your stuff."

"Wait," Blaine halted, "you think he knows The Sins are after him?"

"It makes sense," Artie stated. "Kurt obviously has no idea The Sins or the Task Force even exist. So, they're going after Kurt to get to his dad. The only thing we need to figure out now is why?"

Blaine scratched his neck in thought, then remembered something.

"Kurt has a brother," Blaine told him quickly.

"A step-brother to be exact," Artie said. "Name's Finn Hudson. Lives with Burt and his mom, Carole in Lima. He goes to college and wasn't there when the break-in happened, neither was the wife. Puck was out on patrol of the place when Burt got home."

"And he didn't see anything?" Blaine prompted.

"Nope. I'm pretty sure they were long gone by the time he got there."

Blaine sat up in the kitchen stool he was seated in. "So, let me get this straight: The Sins broke into Burt Hummel's house, looking for something."

"That's right."

"When they couldn't find it, they left. And when Burt got home, before his family, he cleaned up the place and didn't call the cops."

"Yep."

"Which leads us to believe, that he knows The Sins are after him, while the rest of his family is completely oblivious."

"Uh huh."

"Now, The Sins are after Kurt, trying to get something from him and we have no idea what it is."

"You are correct, Sir."

Blaine groaned and dragged a hand down his face. He shook his head and stood up, shrugging on his coat on.

"Okay," he said, "I'll see what I can do. Tell me when you hear something."

"Will do," Artie assured him.

With that, Artie's voice cut off from his ear and Blaine was left standing in alone, in silence. It was at times like these when Blaine felt really lonely. He missed all his fellow agents. He missed Santana and Brittany and Artie and even Quinn. It had been so long since he had been anywhere without any of them and Blaine didn't think it would be that hard but it was. All Blaine could do was remind himself that this wasn't forever and he would see Santana and everyone else soon enough.

Blaine nodded once then strode out the door and down into the open air of the city.

----------

Blaine waited, leaning against the corner of a barber shop, tracker in hand. He waited until the little dot was a few feet away from the street corner, before rounding it. He lightly bumped into Kurt's chest, causing the other man to stumble slightly and look up in alarm. Blaine could see an apology forming on Kurt's lips but it died away when he saw Blaine's face. 

His eyes lit up and he smiled.

"Hi, Blaine," he greeted with a little wave.

Blaine smiled fondly at him and blinked when he noticed someone else, standing next to Kurt and looking at him with a raised eyebrow.

She was the same age as them, with dark hair and skin. Her curvy body was clothed in a colourful, leopard print hoodie and bright pink skinny jeans. Her full lips were turned up in a soft smile and her brown eyes looked kind.

"Oh!" Kurt jumped, looking between the two. "Blaine, this is my good friend, Mercedes. Mercedes, this is Blaine."

Blaine stuck out a hand and Mercedes shook it.

"Nice to meet you," he said politely.

"You to," she replied, eying him closely.

Blaine felt nervous under her intense gaze. She was looking at him like she was picking apart every element to him and analysing it closely. A cold shiver of dread ran down is spine. What if she knew? What if she some how found out he was an undercover agent and was going to tell Kurt everything?

"Well," she said finally, leaning back so she could look at him from head to toe, "you certainly match the description."

"What?" Blaine stammered, his fear growing by the second.

Mercedes smile split into a mischievous grin. Kurt's eyes widened and he was glaring at her to stop talking.

Ignoring him, Mercedes went on, "Oh yeah. Kurt has told all about you."

Kurt's face turned bright red at her words and Blaine felt a strange rise in his chest.

"All about your 'vast knowledge in theatre history,'" she added, "and the way you wiped the floor with Jesse St James. Man, I wish I could of seen it. It's about high time someone put that boy in his place."

"Anyway!" Kurt cut in, loudly, "we really should be going."

"Kurt here, was just taking me out for coffee," Mercedes eyes glinted suddenly, "Blaine, would you like to join us?"

Blaine blinked in surprise, as did Kurt. Blaine smiled and held up his hand. 

"I wouldn't want to impose-"

"You're not imposing," she assured, "we're inviting you. Aren't we, Kurt?"

Kurt was glaring at her with such intensity, Blaine wouldn't be surprised if she burst into flames. She simply smiled sweetly up at him and he let out a huff.

"Sure," he sighed, then smiled up at Blaine, "of course."

Blaine smiled adoringly back at him, his lips tugging into a dopey grin.

"Great!" Mercedes clapped her hands excitedly, then looped both her arms through Blaine and Kurt's. "Let's go!"

Blaine and Kurt were dragged by Mercedes into a near-by cafe and sat down at a booth in the corner of the store. Mercedes dug out her wallet and stuffed a twenty dollar bill into Kurt's hand.

"Kurt, would you get us some drinks?" she asked, smiling brightly up at him. "You know what I like."

Kurt's jaw was firmly set and he gave her a look before breathing out slowly.

"Sure," he replied stiffly. He turned to Blaine and asked, "What'll it be?"

Blaine lost his voice for a moment, his breath leaving his body with those eyes of swirling blue and green focused on him.

"Uh, medium drip," he finally answered.

Kurt nodded once and turned on his heal to wait in line. Once they were alone, Mercedes leaned forward in her chair and propped her chin in her folded hands.

Blaine shifted in his seat, feeling unsettled by her intent gaze.

"So," he said, breaking the silence, "how do you know Kurt?"

"We went to high school together," she explained. "I live in California but came here to visit him."

"That's nice," Blaine replied, feeling awkward.

Here he was, sitting down for coffee with Kurt and one of his long-time friends. It was all extremely surreal and odd.

After another minute of silence, Mercedes rolled her eyes.

"So what's the deal with you and Kurt?" she asked bluntly.

Blaine blinked, taken back, "What do you mean?"

Mercedes sighed in exasperation, "I mean, what's going on between you two? Because Kurt has not stop going on about you for days and I can tell by the way you look at him, you're thinking about him to."

Blaine blushed to the tips of his ears. He ducked his head and looked down at the table top.

"I- I don't know what you're talking about," he stuttered, "Kurt and I are just friends."

"Right," she drawled, "cause I totally describe my friends as 'so handsome with these dreamy eyes and so smart and adorable.'"

Blaine whipped his head up to look at her smirking face.

"He really said that?" he whispered, his voice coming out quiet and hushed.

"Mmhmm," Mercedes hummed, drinking in his reaction with a smug smile.

In that moment, Kurt returned to their table, setting the drinks down and seating himself next to Blaine.

"Whatchya guys talkin' about?" he asked, looking slightly panicked.

"Nothin'," Blaine replied, smiling dreamily at Kurt. "Just…getting to know each other."

Kurt accepted the answer and went on to chat happily with Mercedes. Blaine just sat there, eyes never leaving Kurt for a second. His heart had never felt lighter. Blaine was so transfixed on the boy in front of him, he almost missed the flash of blonde hair outside the window. At any other time, Blaine would have been very alert and suspicious but right now he was just to happy to care about anything.