Waking up the next morning was an odd experience for Blaine. He'd been tucked away under his thick blankets, when the sound of yelling and screaming woke him up. He bolted up right, snapping his eyes open, his thoughts still muddled in his half-asleep state but the shrieking coming from downstairs was enough to have Blaine running out the door. He sprinted down the hall, making out Santana's angry tone and a high-pitched whining before he reached the stairs and swung his legs over the railing, dropping to the floor on stable feet. On high alert, Blaine was ready to pounce and help Santana with who ever was attacking her, before he caught sight of the scene before him and froze.

Santana was standing in the middle of the living room with a yelping Rory underneath her. He was on his knees, his arm twisted behind him as Santana gripped his wrist and pressed her heel into his back sharply. She looked ready to kill, while Rory was glancing around frantically, his eyes wide with confusion and fear.

"Now, are you going to start talking, or do I have to break your arm off, Sin?" she snarled, twisting his wrist further.

Rory cried out, his shoulders hunching in pain.

"I have no idea what yer talkin' about!" he exclaimed, looking absolutely terrified. 

Santana laughed harshly, "Yeah right." She leaned further down and hissed directly into his ear. "How did you get in here? Who do you work for!?"

"The Rozwalt hotel!" he sobbed. "'Where every stay is like yer home away from home!'"

"Santana!" Blaine yelled, having had enough of this. "What are you doing!?"

Both heads whipped towards him. Rory let out a choked sob and Santana dug her foot further into his back.

"What does it look like I'm doing!?" she shouted. "I found this kid in the kitchen! He must've broken in!"

"Get off him!" Blaine snapped, pushing Santana off the boy. Rory scrambled to his feet and dashed behind Blaine, poking his head out nervously from behind him.

"What's the matter with you!?" Santana screeched, looking very worked up and frazzled, her dark hair sticking out in random directions and eyes bloodshot.

"He's the bell boy," Blaine explained, narrowing his eyes.

Santana took one look at the cowering boy and shook her head. "He doesn't look like a bell boy."

"It's my day off," Rory squeaked from behind Blaine. "I was just droppin' in ta say hello," he explained timidly.

Blaine took in the black jeans and green button-down, replacing Rory's uniform. Without it, he looked like your average guy. Blaine groaned and dragged a hand down his face. It was way to early to be dealing with this. He hadn't even had his breakfast or a cup of coffee and his blood was already boiling. This was just too much.

Sighing, Blaine faced the frightened boy behind him and gripped his shoulder.

"Rory, I'm really sorry," he apologised and nodded his head to Santana. "This is my step-sister, Santana. She's, uh…not a morning person."

"Clearly," Rory remarked, still eyeing the girl nervously and rubbing his sore wrist.

Santana just raised an eyebrow and shrugged, now seeming to understand the situation.

"Sorry, Irish," she muttered and casually walked into the kitchen, opening the fridge and pulling out a bottle of orange juice. "But Auntie Tana doesn't like to have her beauty sleep interrupted." She then proceeded to take a long swig of the drink and sighed in satisfaction.

Blaine gaped openly at her for a minute, before she noticed and questioned, "what?"

Blaine pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration, trying to keep himself under control as he replied as calmly as he could.

"You can't just attack people!"

Santana scoffed, taking another sip of the carton of orange. "It's not my fault if I retaliate against people who enter my lair. I'm like a mother bear: I've gots to protect my territory." She shrugged again and said simply, "it's in my blood."

"But you can't just-"

"Listen, Short Stack, you really don't wanna go here with me right now," Santana growled dangerously. "I haven't even had my morning meal yet and I'm starting to get cranky."

"And we don't want that, do we?" Blaine asked sarcastically.

"Exactly," Santana snapped, glaring at them both. "So I suggest, you get lil ol' Saint Patrick outta here afore's I ends you."

She gave them one more look before swinging the kitchen cupboard open and blocking herself from their view.

Blaine shook his head in annoyance, knowing this was the end of their conversation. He turned and ushered a wide-eyed Rory out the door.

"Sorry about that," Blaine said, leaning against the door frame. "Is your arm okay?"

Rory shrugged, rolling his shoulder and wincing slightly.

"It's fine," he assured him. "I should of knocked anyway. I just didn't wanna wake ya."

Blaine laughed slightly. "It woke me up, alright." Rory grinned a little at that, giving Blaine just a glimpse of his shiny, white teeth. "And Santana really is nice, once you get to know her."

"I don't think that's going to be a problem," Rory murmured and Blaine snorted a laugh, which caused  Rory to laugh. After a moment, Rory composed himself and smiled.

"I guess I'll see ya 'round," he said.

Blaine nodded and patted his arm in a friendly fashion. "Yeah, see ya."

Rory turned around and waved over his shoulder, "bye."

"Bye."

Blaine softly closed the door before he whipped around and stormed into the kitchen. Santana was munching on a piece of toast and sipping her juice as she idly flicked through a magazine, not a care in the world. Blaine slammed his fist down on the counter , the sound echoing off the walls. Santana didn't bat an eye, only slowly turned her unimpressed gaze toward him.

"What?" she finally asked.

"You can't just try to break off a persons arm, when they come in here!" Blaine exclaimed incredulously.

Santana sighed, closing her magazine and folding her legs.

"Listen, Blaine," she started in stern but bored tone, "I know you're a nice guy and that's great but sometimes you can be pretty bad when it comes to your judge of character."

"He works here!" Blaine argued.

"So?" Santana countered. She rolled her eyes and hopped of her stool, marching right up to Blaine. "I hate to sound like Quinn, but incase you haven't already realised this, The Sins are dangerous. They're evil sons of bitches but they know what they're doing, okay? If you're serious about stopping them, you have to start being ruthless. No trusting anyone we don't know. That includes little green men that prance through your door, offering a jolly good time. Got it?"

Blaine remained silent. It was times like these where he hated Santana for saying the things he didn't want to hear. Of course he knew about the stakes of this mission and what it would mean if The Sins got their way but that didn't mean he had to like them. It had always been sitting in the back of his mind that it was a bad idea to actually like Rory as a person. Or Mercedes, or Rachel, or even Kurt.

It was one of the many things that you had to sacrifice when you worked for a secret organisation of undercover police. No friends. At least, none outside of work.

"I know," Blaine replied quietly.

Santana stared at him for a moment then nodded curtly and went back to her breakfast. That seemed to be the end of it. Blaine sighed and trudged upstairs, suddenly feeling very empty.

----------

The tension that filled the air as Blaine, Santana, Kurt and Rachel all sat down in the courtyard to eat lunch, was so thick it could be cut with a knife. The two girls were glaring at each other, their dark eyes blazing. Blaine had been hoping Santana would be the bigger person and apologise. But asking Santana to be mature was like asking a dog to play the piano: not entirely impossible, but highly, highly unlikely. 

"This is ridiculous," Kurt hissed, leaning towards Blaine. "They're acting stupid!"

Blaine threw a quick glance towards the fuming girls, knowing Santana wouldn't appreciate being called stupid, and leaned closer to Kurt, enjoying the close proximity. "I know. I've seen Santana hate a lot of people but this is a whole new level of loathing."

Kurt shook his head, eying the two girls with knitted eyebrows. Blaine was about to ask him what he was thinking, when his eyes flashed and lit up excitedly. Blaine could practically see the light-bulb appear above his head. He turned to Blaine with big, ecstatic eyes and was lightly bouncing in his seat.

"I've got it!" he whispered loudly. "I know how we can fix this!"

"Well please, do share," Blaine prompted, grinning at Kurt's obvious elation.

"It's simple," he states. "We do what anyone would do when they've got two bickering people: we have a good, old fashioned, home-cooked dinner."

Blaine raised an eyebrow.

"Um…what?"

"Yeah!" Kurt insisted. "Whenever we had a problem with someone, my dad would always invite them over for dinner and the next thing you know, those people, who used to steal our mail, are suddenly lending you their nail-polish remover-"

"Nail-polish remover..?"

"-And everything would be fine!" 

Blaine was still unsure. He knew enough about his partner to know that she wasn't the kind of person you invited over for a friendly dinner. And when she was, she was usually just there to beat your ass and arrest you. But when Kurt was looking so sure and hopeful, Blaine didn't have the heart to tell him no.

"That sounds like a great idea," Blaine said softly, smiling.

Kurt let out an adorable little squeal of excitement and quickly turned to Santana and Rachel.

"Ladies!" he announced, getting their attention, "do either of you have anything against greek-styled bites of utter satisfaction?" 

----------

"I can't believe I let you talk me into this!"

Blaine rolled his eyes for what must have been the hundredth time that day as he and Santana walked down the dark streets of New York, towards Kurt, Rachel and Mercedes' apartment. 

After Kurt had announced his little dinner plan, Santana had been quick to let him know that she was 'not down with that.' But Blaine had immediately pulled her aside and told her that it was important for them to get close to Kurt and his friends. Besides, it would be much easier to watch over him in his own home. Santana had been reluctant but eventually agreed.

So now, here they were: seven o'clock and briskly walking down the cold streets of the night. Blaine was pretty sure it would be snowing soon and made a mental note to get some boots.

"This is dumb," Santana grumbled, crossing her arms over her chest grumpily.

Blaine sighed. "Santana, I know this isn't the easiest thing for you, but you're going to have to actually be nice."

Santana mock-gasped. "What? You're saying I'm not nice? I'm the nicest person I know. I walked past that snooty librarian while she was carrying all those books and I didn't trip her."

"You're a saint," Blaine replied sarcastically. "Look, I know you don't like trusting people but we have to get them to trust us. It's the only way we'll be able to do this."

"Whatever," Santana mumbled. 

They soon arrived at Kurt's building and made their way up to the right room. Santana drew in a long breath and plastered on a fake smile.

"Let's just get this over with," she growled through her teeth.

Blaine knocked on the door twice and a few moments later the door opened to reveal Mercedes smiling brightly at them.

"Hey guys," she greeted, ushering them inside. "It's so nice to have you here." She stuck her hand out to Santana. "I'm Mercedes."

"Santana," she replied, shaking Mercedes' hand and giving her a strained smile.

Mercedes shuffled inside and called over her shoulder, "Kurt's just in the kitchen, making dinner."

"Thanks, Mercedes!" Blaine said, then whipped around to Santana with a glare. "Be nice."

Santana gave Blaine a plastic smile and fluttered her eyelashes innocently. 

They both made their way through the small apartment and a wave of delicious odours suddenly filled Blaine's nostrils. He followed the smell to the kitchen and knew a goofy smile was stretching across his face. There stood Kurt, a white apron looped around his neck and twirling around the kitchen with a practised ease. He was alternating between stirring some kind of soup, that smelled strongly of herbs and cream, and chopping up vegetables. 

Bowling for Soup was blasting through the speakers of a bright pink stereo, resting on top of the microwave. Kurt was singing along with it, nodding his head and shaking his hips, not a care in the world.

"She was gonna be an actress.

She was gonna be a star.

She was gonna shake her ass,

on the hood of Whitesnake's car!

Her yellow SUV, is now the enemy.

Looks at her average life.

And nothing has been alright since-"

Blaine swept behind him, silently, and gripped his hips, causing Kurt to let out a squeak of surprise. Taking the opportunity, Blaine sang out.

"Bruce Springsteen, Madonna.

Way before Nirvana,

there was U2 and Blondie.

And music still on MTV!"

Kurt span around and grinned when he saw who it was. It made Blaine's stomach flop, just slightly. Kurt opened his mouth and continued the song with Blaine, shimmying his shoulders in Blaine's grasp, playfully.

"Her two kids, in high school,

they tell her that she's uncool.

Cause she's still preoccupied,

with 19, 19, 1985!"

Rachel and Mercedes both let out a synchronised,

"Woohoohoo!"

Kurt collapsed into a fit of giggles, soon followed by his room mates. Blaine watched with a wide grin and saw Santana roll her eyes, a defiant smile tugging at her lips. 

Kurt untied his apron and slung it over the back of a chair. He gestured to the set of tables and chairs, plates set, gleaming white and waiting.

"Please, make yourselves at home," Kurt said with a charming smile. "Dinner will be ready in just a moment."

Blaine nodded and pulled out a chair, seating himself across from Mercedes and Rachel. Santana begrudgingly pulled out the chair at the end of the table and plopped down in it, her face drawn with distaste. 

Blaine eyed her nervously and saw Rachel, arms folded and mouth set in a tight line. He cleared his throat loudly, earning him the attention of the tables other occupants.

"So!" he said brightly. "It's really nice of you guys to have us over. Isn't it, Santana?" he asked sternly.

The latino gave a sweet smile. 

"Yes," she stated, her voice soft but her eyes hard. "It was very nice of you to invite us both over for dinner. Thank you, Mercedes," she smiled the dark girl. "Thank you, Rachel," she said through gritted teeth. "Thank you, Kurt," she called out from her seat.

"You're welcome!" Kurt responded from over the counter.

Santana smiled at him, then turned to Blaine and hissed, "happy?"

"Yes," Blaine answered, patting her hand. "Good job, I know how hard it is for you to act polite."

Santana glared at him but turned her attention to Kurt, who was carrying two large dishes. He set down a large plate of fresh salad, pieces of finely chopped tomato, cucumber and onion peeking out from between large leaves of vibrant green lettuce. Next to it, Kurt placed a huge bowl of creamy soup, chunks of white bobbing to the surface. He quickly hurried back into the kitchen and reappeared a moment later with a jug of water and a plate of sliced bread. He placed them on the table next to his two dishes and stood back, glancing over the whole set up and looking very pleased with himself.

Blaine figured he must like cooking, very much. Especially for guests.

"Okay!" Kurt grinned. "Dig in, everyone!"

And they did just that. Blaine grabbed the ladle from the bowl and poured himself a generous amount of the steaming substance, his stomach growling in anticipation. He barely registered Kurt pulling out his chair and slipping in next to him, when he spooned some of the soup into his mouth. He groaned and he must have done so quite loudly as Kurt giggled next to him.

"Save it for the bedroom," Santana quipped, not looking up from her bowl.

Blaine couldn't be bothered glaring at her when he had something so delicious right in front of him…and next to him. 

Dammit, Blaine! Undapper thoughts!

He slurped his soup, his face burning up. Kurt quirked an eyebrow at him, his lips twisting into a smirk.

"Are you okay?" he laughed.

"Mmhmm!" Blaine hummed in affirmation with a mouth full of soup. "M'fine."

Kurt let out a high, musical laugh, covering his mouth with one hand. Blaine squeezed his eyes shut and smiled back, his cheeks full of cream and tofu. Kurt laughed again and Blaine swallowed.

"This is delicious, Kurt," Blaine commented, scooping up some salad.

"Thanks," Kurt grinned, taking a sip of water. "It's a family recipe."

"Well, it's great," Blaine insisted.

"Kurt always was the best cook," Rachel agreed, smoothing down her skirt. "Kurt also agrees that Kurt is the best cook."

That got a light chuckle out of the table.

"He won't even let me near the stove," Rachel pushed, smiling fondly at her friend.

Kurt raised and eyebrow. "Do you know how long it took to scrape that pumpkin off of everything? A long time, Rachel. A long time" He picked up his spoon and pointed it at her. "Never again."

Everyone laughed and Blaine could just picture Kurt walking through the door and looking horrified as Rachel innocently flicks the dials on the stove off. It made him smile.

"So, Santana," Kurt began, turning to the girl. "How long have you and Blaine been family?"

"Since we were six," she drawled, gulping down some water. "His mom met my dad at a Guns'n'Roses concert. It was love at first sight and the rest is history."

Blaine was impressed. Santana had recited that like she'd been doing it her entire life. She had always been a better liar than Blaine.

"I have a step brother," Kurt chimed. "They drive you crazy, don't they?"

"Oh, you have no idea," Santana muttered, fixing Blaine with a glare, to which he smiled sweetly.

"So, Blaine," Mercedes started and everyone turned to her. She set her spoon down and folded her hands on the table top. "Where did you say you were from again?"

Blaine racked his brain for the correct lie and quickly answered.

"Uh, Toronto."

"Hmm," she nodded, still eying him. "I didn't know they had performing arts colleges in Canada. What college were you at?"

Blaine's eyes widened slightly. Was she suspicious? Luckily, Artie had given him a run down of his 'past.'

"George Brown College," Blaine replied, not missing a beat. "Great school."

Mercedes narrowed her eyes.

"What street did you live on?"

"A nice little place called Queens street West. We had the most annoying neighbour."

"Where did you work?"

"A quaint little coffee shop called Rainforest Cafe. They had the best lattes."

"Any pets?"

"A boarder collie named Zack and a cat named Missy. She was so fluffy."

Mercedes stopped firing questions and a tense silence fell over the table. She had her eyes trained on Blaine's face, looking for a trace of something. Something that would give him away or slip him up. Blaine cleared his throat loudly and rose from his chair.

"Excuse me, may I use your bathroom?" he asked politely.

Rachel swallowed and blinked a few times before answering.

"Sure, it's just over there," she pointed to a small hall to the left.

Blaine nodded his thanks and quickly made his way to the correct door. He heard Kurt snapping in the dining room before he closed the door.

"Mercedes! Could you maybe not interrogate our guests, when they come over!?"

Blaine paced back and forth slowly for a few minutes. There was no way that Mercedes could know. It was impossible. She was just a normal girl. She couldn't possibly know about him and Santana.

Blaine turned on the tap and splashed cold water over his face, getting a good look at himself in the mirror. He looked tired. This whole mission was over-working him. He ran a hand through his hair and flinched when his knuckles bumped his ear. Gingerly, he took out his ear piece and held it between his index finger and thumb. The thing had been stowed away in his ear for far too long. It was starting to look a little…waxy.

Sighing, he held it under the tap and rinsed it clean. He was humming quietly to himself, brushing his finger tips over the smooth metal when, suddenly, a sharp fist rapped against the door.

"Blaine?"

Blaine jumped in surprise and gasped as his ear piece fell from shaking fingers. He scrambled to grab the tiny device but it was swept away with the trickle of water and disappeared down the drain. Blaine stood still for a few seconds, frozen to the spot, before he realised what had just happened and panicked.

"Crap."