Panic immediately settled in as Blaine stared at the gaping hole that slurped up his communication to HQ. Blaine's hands flew to his hair as his blood instantly turned cold.

"Oh, my God!" he exclaimed, his hands flailing helplessly at his sides.

"Blaine?" Kurt's voice asked through the door. "Are you okay?"

Blaine fell to his knees and ripped the cabinet under the sink open. "Uh, yeah!" His eyes darted around the large pipe, connected to the porcelain bowl that disappeared into the ground and the various small bottles of lotion, moisturiser and make up. "I-I'm fine! Just give me a minute!"

Blaine could already feel cold sweat breaking out on his brow as his senses went into over-drive. With shaking hands, he hastily groped the random bottles and shoved them away from the circular tube. Blaine paused when he grabbed a small glass bottle of perfume. It's nozzle was rusted and the label was peeling away but he could still make out the small japanese characters written across the red sticker. He frowned in confusion but was brought back to reality when Kurt knocked on the door again.

"I'm sorry if Mercedes scared you or something," he apologised. "She's a little rough around the edges but I swear she means well."

"Kurt, seriously," Blaine grunted and lit up when he spotted what he was looking for, "it's totally-ugh-fine."

Blaine didn't wait for Kurt to respond before he gripped the wrench and fastened it around the pipe. Thank God he knew how to use tools. 

With a steadying breath, Blaine summoned up his strength and pushed down on the tool, twisting the pipe link loose. The metal screeched against each other and Blaine winced at the sound.

"Blaine?" Kurt called again. There was more shuffling and murmuring voices outside the door now, signalling that everyone else had gathered around the door. "Is something wrong?"

"Yes," Blaine hissed through gritted teeth as he pushed down on the wrench. "Just gimme a minute."

Blaine pressed down on the rusty tool but it refused to budge another inch. Growling in frustration, Blaine loosened the wrench and set it aside. His palms were burning from the skin they had just lost and Blaine winced as he rubbed them together.

"Look, Blaine," Mercedes sighed from behind the door. "I'm sorry if I offended you, okay?"

"It's fine, Mercedes," he assured, looking around frantically. "Guys, I'm okay. You should all just go back and eat!"

Blaine's heart was pounding hard in his chest, sending quivers of vibrations through his body. His hands were shaking as he desperately tried to figure out what to do. It didn't help that h had an audience listening to his every move five feet away. It was all so overwhelming.

"God, Blaine," he heard Santana sigh in exasperation, "if you're masturbating just tell us so we can leave already."

Blaine instantly felt hot all over.

"Santana!" he exclaimed in outrage. 

He could hear Rachel and Kurt clearing their throats awkwardly and a muffled laugh from Mercedes. Groaning, he turned back to the sink and, hesitating for only a moment, raised his foot and kicked at the pipe link. It only took two kicks before the pipe split in two, then everything went blurry.

Water spurted from the tubes, blasting Blaine and drenching his clothes. He coughed and sputtered, holding up his hands to shield him from the wet onslaught. He pushed forward and fell onto his stomach, his knees slipping on the wet tiles. The wind was effectively knocked out of him as he hit the floor with a loud splat!

"What's going on in there!?" Rachel demanded.

"Are..are you you taking a shower?" Kurt asked in confusion.

"Uh…" Blaine's eyes darted around helplessly then landed on a rack of fluffy white towels. He jolted forward and ripped two from their positions. Shuffling forward on his knees, Blaine stuffed the towels under the door, stopping the water from flowing. "I - Just a minute!"

Blaine felt something pelt him in the back of the head and span around, his earpiece falling into his lap. He picked the device up only to have it slip from his grasp like a bar of soap. He fumbled for a moment, the earpiece bouncing away from him, before he caught it in a firm grip. Revelling in a moment of victory, Blaine shook his fist in triumph, only to have the water soaking through his jeans bring him back to reality.

Blaine stuffed the earpiece into his pocket and lunged forward. He squeezed his eyes shut and crossed his forearms in front of his face. Crawling towards the pipes, water sprayed everywhere, knocking over jars and bottles, hitting the ceiling and mirror. His knees hit the edge of the cabinet and he reached blindly into the open doors. Gripping at air for a moment, Blaine's hands finally landed on what he was looking for. He held up the pipe link and screwed it onto the end of one of the tubes.

"Blaine!" Santana shouted. "What the hell are you doing in there!?"

"Nothing!" he yelled back, trying to tilt his head against the spray. "Everything's fine!"

Water suddenly blasted Blaine in the face, stinging his eyes with the raw power behind it. He cried out in pain then slammed his jaw shut. Oh no.

"Blaine! I'm coming in there!" Santana informed him shrilly. She followed this with a kick to the door, which luckily held.

"What are you doing!?" Rachel shrieked in outrage.

Santana ignored her and slammed her heel against the wood again. "Don't worry, Curly fry, I'll getchya!"

Blaine bit down on his lip, gripped the other tube and forced the two together. He quickly screwed the pipe link on loosely, the water flow finally ceasing. The pipe shook violently from the force of the current inside it. Blaine hastily grabbed the wrench and secured it around the tubes, acutely aware of the thudding behind him. He ground his teeth and turned the tool until it wouldn't budge anymore. Just as he let go of the wrench, the door burst open.

Blaine span around and was met with four wide eyes and slack jaws. He froze as he stared around at the pool of water and various lotions spread out across the floor, walls and roof. He gulped loudly and turned back to the small audience. He stared at Kurt's wide, shocked eyes before he cleared his throat.

"I-" he fumbled for words, water trickling from his hair and down his face. "I…it was an accident?"

----------

"I really am sorry."

"I know, Blaine."

"I didn't mean to-"

"It's fine."

"I was just-"

"It's behind us."

Blaine stood outside the doorway to Kurt and Rachel's apartment, Santana standing a few metres away, waiting for him. After Blaine had been found in the flooded bathroom, Rachel and Mercedes had exploded into very loud fits, that Blaine couldn't make out the words to. Kurt had said it was fine and they could easily clean it up but but Blaine could see the strain in his eyes and the way he practically vibrated with rage. 

Blaine had given Mercedes some cash to pay for a plumber and whatever expensive moisturisers he had spilt. It didn't help when he found out everything in that cupboard was Kurt's. Santana had just laughed through the whole thing.

Now, he stood in the cold as Kurt gave him a small wave.

"Well," he sighed, "this has certainly been eventful," he gave a humourless smile. "On the plus side, at least Rachel and Santana don't hate each other any more."

"Yeah, she hates me now," Blaine groaned, rubbing his temples. He closed his eyes and breathed in through his nose, the cold air chilling his lungs. "I am so sorry Kurt. I know how excited you were for this dinner and I totally ruined it."

Kurt shrugged, a soft smile on his lips. "Eh. It was a recipe for disaster from the beginning." He stepped forward and Blaine gasped at their close proximity. He could almost feel the heat radiating from his body. "Besides," Kurt whispered, looking at Blaine through a thick fringe of lashes, "you could never ruin anything."

Blaine blinked rapidly for a moment as he watched Kurt watch him intently. His gaze was so intense and was filled with something. Hopefulness. Blaine had to physically tear his gaze away from Kurt before he did something stupid like listen to the voice in his head that was screaming at him to just do what he wanted. And what he wanted was Kurt. So badly.

But he couldn't have Kurt. He couldn't have anything he wanted and it made him want to scream in frustration. He could really see himself and Kurt as a real couple. He wondered what his life would be like if he had never seen Santana that night and found out about the Task Force. Where he would be. He might've moved to New York and met Kurt all by himself. Then they could be together without having to worry about Quinn or anyone else.

Blaine wasn't especially bitter towards Quinn anymore. Not after hearing the story about Quinn's dead love. He didn't want that for Kurt. He wanted him safe. And if that meant just being his guardian angel, he was okay with that.

Blaine took a step back, away from Kurt and felt instantly cold. He averted his eyes and stared at the ground, not wanting to look at the hurt expression that was surely on Kurt's face right now. He coughed and finally looked up. Kurt looked sad and a little disappointed but he was still looking at Blaine the same way and that was good enough for him.

"Sorry," Blaine apologised again. "You know, for…for everything." Kurt didn't know what Blaine was really saying. How he was sorry that he couldn't do what they both wanted. Sorry that the closest he could ever be to him was a friend. Sorry that he couldn't be close to him.

Kurt nodded and smiled. "Yeah." he answered quietly. There was a tense silence that followed, in which neither of them said anything. Kurt decided to speak first as he waved and said, "I guess I'll see you later."

"Yeah," Blaine nodded. "Later."

"Bye," Kurt said, closing the door.

Blaine waved back. "Bye," he said before the door shut entirely.

Blaine stood there for a moment, staring at the fading wood, his breath coming out in puffs of cold air. Santana slid beside him and leaned on his shoulder.

"Well," she began, her voice too loud and chipper for the sombre atmosphere, "that went well."

Blaine groaned and turned on his heel. He walked away with his head in his hands, leaving Santana behind. The latino quickly caught up with him and laughed loudly.

"I can't believe you destroyed their bathroom!"

"I already told you," he snapped as they descended the stairs and stepped out onto the street, "I dropped my earpiece down the drain.

"So you destroy their bathroom!?"

"It was an accident!" Blaine insisted. He rolled his eyes and sighed. The sight of that bathroom, drenched and splattered, would never leave his brain. Ever. Blaine frowned when his mind went back to the bathroom cabinet. It had been bugging him since he'd seen the small bottle. 

"Hey," he began, getting Santana's attention. "I saw something in Kurt and Rachel's bathroom-"

"Woah!" Santana interrupted, holding up her hands. "What ever weird sex toys you saw in there, I don't want to know!"

"What?" Blaine questioned. "No! Not like that! I found this bottle of perfume."

"Yeah? So?"

"I know that perfume," Blaine continued.

Santana shook her head and muttered, "you are so gay."

Blaine fought against his mounting annoyance. "I remember it because my mom had the same perfume. She still has the bottle."

"Where's this going, Anderson?" Santana asked, her heels clomping loudly on the pavement.

Blaine could feel himself getting excited as he explained it to his partner. "They only sold that perfume in Japan in the late eighties. Years before Kurt was even born!"

"So, maybe one of his parents got it for him," Santana suggested but Blaine shook his head.

"Impossible. Neither his dad or step-mother have ever been out of the country. Plus, they never shipped that stuff overseas. Meaning, he would've had to have gotten it from someone who got it in Japan."

He dug around in his pocket and pulled out the earpiece that had gotten him into so much trouble. He stuck in his ear and heard Artie sigh.

"There you are," he said. "What happened, Blaine? I've been staring at water and denim for the last half hour."

"I'll explain later," Blaine assured hastily. "I need you to tell me if anyone close to Kurt ever went to Japan in the eighties."

"Anyone specific?"

Blaine thought for a moment before snapping his fingers and replying. 

"His mother," he said. 

Blaine waited while the sound of clicking and tapping filled his ear.

"Yep," Artie  responded. "Elizabeth Hummel boarded a flight to Tokyo in 1988 and came back two days later."

Blaine's brow furrowed. Maybe Elizabeth had just brought Kurt back a bottle of perfume.

"What was her occupation?"

Artie hummed then answered, "she worked at a florist in Lima after she graduated college and until she died in 1998."

Blaine raised an eyebrow. "Now, I'm not certain, but I'm pretty sure florists don't have the money to randomly fly to Tokyo for a few days."

Blaine continued to walk, aware of the sound of traffic.

"What're you thinking?" Artie asked.

Blaine and Santana stopped at the side walk then waited for the light to turn green, signally they could cross.

"I don't know," Blaine replied. "It just seems kinda fishy to me that-"

"WATCH OUT!"

Blaine inhaled sharply and his eyes went wide as saucers as e was blinded by lights and deafened by horns. He could see, hear or feel anything as he tried to make sense of anything. That single moment felt like it was only a nanosecond and a life time both at once. It only ended when he hit the road. For a second, he thought he was dead until something fell on top of him and effectively knocked the wind out of him for the second time that night.

"B-Blaine," he heard Santana gasp. "Are you okay?"

Blaine opened his eyes and saw Santana sprawled out on top of him and looked around, his senses finally coming back to him. They were both lying in the middle of the road, cars blaring their horns at them. Blaine shook his head and scrambled to his feet. He grabbed Santana's wrist and pulled them both back onto the pathway.

He stopped and bent over, griping his knees as he sucked in gulps of air. He looked up at Santana after a minute of hyperventilating.

"What happened?" he sake, breathless.

"You were almost killed, that's what happened," Santana bit out. "Some stupid truck ran a red light and almost plower you over!"

Blaine froze and slowly turned back to face the road again. He took deep steadying breaths, relief and dread flooding through him. He laughed harshly before he shook his head. 

He had just almost been murdered for the third time that week.