The next two weeks passed without much trouble. The only issue Blaine took with them was the distinct lack of Kurt in the first one (aside from the delicious visit towards the end). But they both had jobs they needed to attend to and bosses (or brothers) to appease.

Finally, the end of their drought came, a whole week and change after Kurt's surprise and Blaine could not have been more ready for a break only a good fuck by the man he loved could bring.

They met at Blaine's gig that night, Kurt already sitting at the bar, chatting with Mike and texting someone when Blaine walked in. He felt wound up too tightly. Things with Sebastian were too quiet and Blaine was convinced that this was the calm before the storm. Before Kurt, he like any of those of the family his age, would have been ecstatic at the thought of a fight. Now that he had Kurt...he didn't want to think that he hadn't had anything to live for, but now he would like to avoid any injury to himself and any danger to Kurt.

There was still no sign of the mysterious missing painting, and Cooper and their father had, for all intents and purposes seemed to have given up on it, if they ever thought it existed. Blaine was not even sure any more what he believed. He had been so convinced that this would amount to something, be it the discovery of a lost masterpiece or the start of a fight that wiped out another generation of the families, either thanks to Smythe's stupidity and brashness.

Blaine's throat was tight by the time Kurt had stood up and wrapped his arms around him, steadying and tight. "You okay?"

"Yeah." Blaine mumbled into Kurt's neck, holding on tighter and soaking in the feeling of being held and Kurt's cologne, light and spicy in his nose (a combination that was starting to feel an awful lot like home for only having dated for less than five months). "Just work stuff."

"Anything in particular?" Kurt's hands were like magic, stroking up and down his arm when they broke their hug.

"I promise I will tell you when we get to your place, okay?" Kurt hummed, kissing Blaine lightly and how had he gone without this for so long?. "Okay. and then no more work talk after that. We both need a break, you in particular."

Dragging his eyes up now that he no longer felt like he was going to float away, Blaine noticed the light circles under Kurt's eyes and the tension in the way he held his lips. "You okay?"

Kurt's smile was tired and his eyes distant, but he still smiled, squeezing Blaine's hand as he nodded. "I am. Just a long time without seeing you. I missed you."

Blaine stood on tip toes to peck a kiss on Kurt's lips before a shout informed him that his set was supposed to start in three minutes, why was he still macking on his beau? "I'll see you at my break."

Kurt nodded again, and Blaine really just wanted to leave, to curl up with Kurt, to forget about his job and family and help Kurt forget whatever he was hiding in the corner of his mouth where the smile was still tight. Leaving wasn't an option, so he kissed Kurt again before turning, throwing his bags behind the bar, stealing a water bottle, and making his way to the piano.

The set passed. Blaine wasn't playing at his best but he didn't flub anything seriously enough for anyone to notice. Ducking under the ropes that warded off most patrons from approaching the piano too closely, Blaine scanned the bar and... Kurt was not there. There seats were still open, their drinks were there, but Kurt was noticeably not. "Where did..." Mike pointed to the door, where through the window Blaine could see Kurt's silhouette, pacing and gesturing with one hand. "Phone call?"

"Yeah. He said something about work and Blackbird before he ran off."

Turned towards the door, Blaine sipped his drink and watched Kurt continue pacing, freeze, then nod with what seemed to be a sigh. The door opened and he stepped back inside, the cloud over his face disappearing when he saw Blaine waiting for him. "Sorry about that. Work crisis. My supervisor is less than thrilled with one of my designs, so I may be scrambling next week if she does not change her mind about it." He slid onto his barstool, leaning his head onto Blaine's shoulder and sighing.

"I, as you know, understand about bosses and their problems." He downed the rest of his drink, a wave from the corner signaled that his break was up. Blaine rubbed Kurt's thigh as he stood, Kurt canting his head to receive Blaine's kiss before he stood up and back fully.

"See you in a half an hour." Kurt nodded, blindly reaching for the fresh glass the bartender had brought a moment before. Throwing himself did not prove to be the distraction he needed, but Blaine thought he did reasonably well. It had only felt like fifteen minutes when he saw the signal to wrap it up. The small crowd gathered clapped when he stood and bowed at the end of his set. The "good jobs" and "I loved its"s while he walked back to Kurt meant he must have done better than he thought he had (or his audience was simply closer to wasted than sober).

Kurt was on his phone again at the bar, talking quickly at whoever was on the other end. Blaine waved towards where he had stashed his bags and Kurt nodded, both chuckling when Kurt pointed at the phone and rolling his eyes. Blaine only caught the "Well tell her I am sure, I may not know what I am doing but I know about this, she just has to trust me" before their farewells. Kurt turned off his phone, sliding it into his pocket with finality and gestured to Blaine. "Let me take one, please."

"I've got it. I'm all balanced."

"If you're sure..."

"You can make sure the tab is squared away"-he got a scoffed of course-"and open all the doors. But first, can I have a kiss."

Kurt smiled, really smiled, for the first time Blaine had seen that evening. "A kiss I can handle. I am not so sure about the doors, though." Kurt's lips were warm on his, tasting like alcohol and familiar when he licked teasingly along their seam. Kurt pulled away before they could get carried away, leading them out of the bar and into the crisp night air, arm curling around Blaine's waist, the two falling into step automatically. "So, I was thinking dinner at my place? You can tell me what is bothering you and then we can both...relax."

"And not by watching Disney movies, I take it."

"No. I was thinking we would need a higher rating for what I think we both want." They were waiting at a stop light so Blaine did not have to contain the urge that swept through him. He stepped close and pressed a kiss to the sensitive skin on Kurt's neck, barely pulling back to mumble "I love you" like a promise into Kurt's skin.

"I love you too, Blaine. Now, shall we keep walking?" The light had changed without Blaine noticing, the two barely making it across before it changed again.

Kurt's apartment was the same as always, feeling comfortably lived in and emanating Kurt. The only thing betraying a hint of clutter (as opposed to clean and lived in) were the sketches out on the drawing table in the corner and the easel with a nearly finished painting to its side, on the wall that Blaine knew got the best of the afternoon light, when Kurt preferred to work.

He allowed himself a moment to imagine life if he was not who he was, that he and Kurt had just met, or if they could just drop everything and leave this life behind them for one where he could play and Kurt could design and paint. One where afternoons before gigs could be passed watching Kurt paint, watching him slip into and out of himself at the same moment, moving quickly, effortlessly, arms and hands gliding from one thing to the next, tongue peeking out from between his lips and brow furrowed as he worked to make it as exact and as perfect as he could until Blaine pulled him away from the easel and into his arms.

That could not happen, of course. Things were not different. Blaine was ,who he was with a past that was not clean. He didn't think this was too terrible. But he knew in the pit of his stomach that things could have been different.

"Sweetheart, you gonna stay in your head all night or are you going to let me in?" Two clicks of glass on glass preceded Kurt wrapping his arms around Blaine's hips, chin dropping, a reassuring presence over Blaine's shoulder.

"Sorry. Work." He did not bother to contain the shudder that ran through him when Kurt brushed his lips across the sensitive spot under his ear.

"It is just us here. You can talk and be safe here."

Biting his lip, unsure why there was a burning behind his eyes and a tightness in his throat, Blaine shook his head. "I will tell you. Not yet. I have to work it out in my head first, okay?"

Kurt stepped in front of him slowly, never breaking contact between his hands and Blaine's waist. "Tell me whenever you are ready. Until then, sit and I will make dinner."

"Can I do anything to help?"

"If you would like, you can make the salad while I finish everything else? I prepped most of it already."

Their lips met sweetly, lingering as they pulled away, Kurt directly into the kitchen and Blaine towards the ipod dock before following, moving seamlessly together to finish cooking their dinner.

The subject of what was bothering Blaine came up as Blaine let Kurt clean them both off, curling around each other and resting his head on Kurt's chest, enjoying the hand threading through his curls and scratching lightly at his scalp. "I guess the problem is that I don't know what is wrong. Everything should be great. It seems that whatever plans Smythe had have fallen apart. Everything should be settling down. But it just seems too good to be true. If it were any other family I would have thought that there would be some sort of retaliation. But there hasn't been. I know that Sebastian does not play by the same rules everyone else does. But..."

"At the same time your instincts are screaming at you that he wouldn't give up quite so easily. What does Cooper or your father have to say about it?"

"They haven't shared with me. We talk about it, but if they have decided something one way or the other they have not informed me."

"What does everyone else think?"

"I don't know. It's on the agenda for things to discuss in Wednesday's meeting, and I am sure it will come up before and after when I talk to Cooper."

"And until then you are stuck with your thoughts?"

"I guess so." "Well then," Kurt rolled them, until Blaine was under him, raising up on knees and elbows above him, "what kind of boyfriend would I be if I did not help distract you from your woes?

Blaine arched up under the touch, seeking Kurt's lips and uncaring that the blood rushing to his cock was slightly uncomfortable, still too oversensitive as their lips met, Kurt obviously taking his job of distracting Blaine to heart. And as fingers probed his entrance, still open and slick, work was the farthest thing from Blaine's thoughts.

The rest of the weekend was exactly what Blaine needed. Sunday morning, he and Kurt went for brunch and then a walk through Central Park. They returned and napped until Kurt could not sit still any longer, dragging Blaine from his bed into the living room, flitting around, humming to whatever song was in his head. A cup of coffee, no sugar and with just enough milk to make it the color of his skin was handed to him over the back of the couch, Kurt humming into the kiss he stole, moving off quickly to fetch his own coffee and bring out his paints.

"You can read my mind, can't you?"

"Um. No?' Kurt's eyebrow cocked as he sipped his coffee, not waiting for a response as he continued his preparations.

"I love watching you paint. It may be one of my favorite things in the world."

"My mouth sinking down around you isn't?" Kurt raised his hand to his mouth, covering his gasp of mock hurt.

"I said one of, caro. But watching you paint, when you are so free and open and happy, you look like you could just float away if gravity wasn't a problem."

Kurt smiled, humming as he flicked the drop cloth, letting it float neatly to the floor, stepping onto it and pushing up his sleeves.

"Is this a talking day or a no talking day" Some days Blaine had watched Kurt paint, he had been requested to stay as silent as possible.

"Talking is fine. I'm just finishing this one up." His hand was still moving, pinning the copy of the original to the side of the easel and squeezing out lines of paints.

"Who is this one for?"

"My friend Mercedes. She has a soft spot for cubism, something I do not always excel in replicating. So this is her birthday gift and a challenge to myself. If I fail, she gets a spa day. If I succeed, I get the spa day"

"So everybody wins, then?"

"Precisely." Looking at the painting, obviously still not quite finished, Blaine could tell that Mercedes was not going to get a spa day. For someone who confessed to not be his best at cubism, Kurt still did a damn fine job.

Kurt worked and worked and worked, Blaine ordering in Thai and forcibly dragging Kurt away from the painting, promising to let him finish after he had eaten something. The painting was finished that night, Kurt barely making it through cleaning off his brushes and palette, half heartedly running through his moisturizing routine (Blaine noticed) before falling face first into bed.

Moving him gently, Blaine stripped Kurt and maneuvered him under the covers, snuggling close when he slipped under a few moments later. Even though they wouldn't see each other for an extended period of time until Wednesday evening (when they would have dinner before parting ways, Kurt needing to go to work ridiculously early at a place clear across the city from where Blaine lived), Blaine was content to hold Kurt. Utterly content.

Wednesdays were never good days for Blaine. He knew the reasons (general dissatisfaction with his job and the inability to ignore it due to meetings). This Wednesday, however, took them all. Their dinner Tuesday night had not been long enough. He missed Kurt, needing more than just the two hour fix that was their conversation.

And Kurt... Kurt was hiding something. There was something that he was not telling Blaine, something he thought he should tell Blaine but, for whatever reason, had not. And Blaine was worried about what this thing was. What that shadow that lingered in Kurt's eyes, that tension in his lips and posture. The lightness of Sunday was gone and Blaine did not know what had happened. Didn't know if it was work or family.

Or, and he did not want to be thinking this but he was, was it him? Was Blaine the problem? Was Kurt moving on? Having second thoughts? It hadn't been that long since Blaine told him everything. He had been so ready for Kurt to walk out on him then. Maybe, after Blaine's latest freak out, Kurt had thought about it some more, about the realities that come with being involved with Blaine.

Blaine wouldn't blame Kurt if that was it, if it was him. He knew full well the dangers of his life, of how inescapable it was, a death knoll even while you were alive, marking the time that there will be a threat and no countermeasures to be had.

Consumed by these thoughts, he walked into the conference room, two minutes later than usual to the stares of everyone else-they may still have had a few minutes, but even Cooper, who generally swept in at the last minute and started the meeting, was already in his seat. Blaine mumbled apologies to the room and sat down next to his brother, pulling out a legal pad and his pen, nodding to Cooper's questioning look when he was ready.

Normal conversation, business as usual, consumed the majority of the meeting, until Rachel's hand shot into the air.

"Yes, Ms. Berry?" Cooper looked amused, but you were either amused by Rachel or sharpening knives to cut out her tongue with.

"I was wondering if there have been any updates on the supposedly missing painting and the threat from Smythe. Do we have any idea if and when retaliation will occur, or will the matter just be buried? After all, the additional training and supplies are cutting dearly into our funds, and we are moving ever closer to dangerously low..."

"Rachel Berry, if you wish to continue to sit at this table you will control your meaningless fear-mongering. We are not so poor as to need to dip into personal coffers. Things are no tighter here than anywhere else in the city."

"But sir," another voice spoke from the far and of the table, "If there are enough funds to go around why have budgets shrank? Why do some of our illustrious bosses take second and third jobs when the family is supposed to take care of its own?"

The glances towards Blaine were not hidden very well. His own look at Cooper told him that this would be something that they would be discussing after the meeting. Cooper crossed his arms and leaned back in his chair, spinning it slightly to face Rachel. "The personal business of the members of the family is none of your concern, Ms. Berry. We do not mention your dalliances with Mr. St. James or your attempts at off-Broadway theater. Each of us has our diversions to pass leisure hours, even yourself. What my brother chooses to do is none of your concern."

Silence rang through the room in the wake of Cooper's words. Rachel flushed and looked down, suddenly seeming to find her nails very interesting. "Now that proper manners have been reestablished, does anyone have anything else to add? No?" Blaine noticed that no hands were raised and no one came close to meeting his or Cooper's eyes. "Good. Continuing, then. Brittney, tell me any news of the Hill affair."

The meeting continued, although the concerns raised by Rachel were the elephant in the room. Much of the family's finances were kept secret. But these were not the foot soldiers. These were the people who believed they were entitled to at least a majority of the information, including the finances (the basic divisions, at least).

No one met Blaine's eye, and he did not understand why. Was it because they thought he was the one responsible for the increased spending? Even going so far with that spending that he was drawing from his own pocket and needed to perform at gigs for money? Even as he followed Cooper out and whispered conversation swept in to fill their place in the room, Blaine hurt with not understanding. These were people who, though slightly older than him, had known him forever, who had watched him prove himself. Was it because word had gotten around that he had taken a steady lover, even though that news was nearly five months old the ring on Kurt's finger was newer. Had one of them seen it and disapproved?. Was it simply business and nothing else? Blaine just did not know and he hated it.

Cooper led them to his desk, leaning against its edge. Blaine felt himself tense, bracing for whatever his brother was about to say that had him rubbing at the bridge of his nose before gesturing for Blaine to close the door and crossing his arms over his chest.

"There really hasn't been any word about Smythe, has there?"

"I want to be able to tell you otherwise. Any news would be better than this radio silence. I cannot plan with silence."

"You're pulling the increased funding and declaring business as usual?"

"I have no reason to believe otherwise. An attack at this point is outside the reasonable time-frame for retaliation. And no one would have believed that painting really survived, so revenge should not be on the table for them."

He could not stay still. Feeling his brother's eyes tracking and evaluating, Blaine paced, taking a moment to choose his words carefully. "But they don't operate as we do. We know that. Why would they follow tradition on this and not anything else? Past actions indicate that we should..." Blaine gestured with his hands, trying and failing to find better words, "Expect the unexpected, for lack of a better term."

"You want to keep the extra measures in place, even knowing that it makes our subordinates unhappy?"

Blaine did not have to wait long for the right words to come to him this time, meeting Cooper's eyes. "I want to keep our people safe. If that means tightening our belts or shifting money around, so be it. But I would rather that than a blood bath. I know that it looks like it is over and the danger has passed. But...I don't know. I have this feeling that he is planning something else. I want more than anything to be wrong. But he has not once yet played by the rules and I don't think he will now."

"You're certain?"

"That I think he is planning something? Yes. I would rather not be taken by complete surprise, either."

"I will talk to Father about this tonight. In the meantime, could you look over the Wesley files to see if anything was missed?"

"I'll have a write up before I leave."

"Good."

Blaine was dismissed with a nod, leaving his brother still leaning against his desk, the exact pose their father stood in when he was thinking. Cooper belonged in that room, and Blaine hoped he was there for a long while.

The Wesley file took up most of the afternoon, Blaine falling into the monotony of picking out inconsistencies and things that should have raised flags when none had been. His phone vibrating its way across his desk and nearly onto the floor pulled him from the file. Glancing at the caller id but not registering the name, Blaine answered. "Blaine Anderson speaking."

"Hey you, am I interrupting?" Kurt sounded nervous, voice high and breathless.

"What's wrong?"

"I...I..." Blaine could hear Kurt swallow. "We...I need to talk to you. When will you be done?"

"Uh, an hour until I can leave without Cooper saying anything."

"Can you come over? Or I can come over to your place, that would be easier."

"Kurt." Blaine tried to keep his voice even and calm,"Are you injured or in immediate danger?

"No. I just have some news." Blaine breathed a sigh of relief.

"I can come over to your place, although it will take me a little longer, or you are welcome to wait for me at mine. I should be there is an hour and a half, if traffic is decent. You gonna be okay until then?"

"Yeah." Blaine could hear a door slam and the sounds of a street in the background. "I just need to tell you something, but it can't wait and needs to be in person."

"Okay. Go to my place and I will be there as soon as I can."

Somehow, the next hour passed and Blaine was shutting down his computer and sliding the report under Cooper's door. He fired a text to Kurt to let him know that he was on his way, periodically checking for a response that never came.

A little seed of worry grew in the pit of his stomach, growing larger the longer Kurt went without responding and the slower his trains moved. In a city full of people who were perpetually rushing, no one seemed at all in a hurry. Logically, he was probably overreacting. Unfortunately, he and logic were not common bedfellows, especially where Kurt was concerned.

Ten minutes later, Blaine slid his key into the lock, frowning when he found it unlocked, something that was not like Kurt. He opened the door, calling out as he shut it behind him, deadbolt sliding into place.

"Kurt, honey? Where are you?"

Nothing felt out of place, but it was too quiet. Kurt never did anything without some sort of noise.

"Kurt?" Blaine let himself start to worry.

His heart froze when he dropped his keys into the bowl by the door.

They clinked only with glass.

Kurt's keys weren't in there.

No need to freak yet, Blaine. Maybe he forgot to put them in. Look around first.

He looked. The office. The guest bathroom. His bed. His bathroom. Nothing. Kurt wasn't there.

Blaine stared at the front door. Kurt's shoes were not there. But one of his jackets was, one that he did not keep in Blaine's closet. He pulled out his phone, dialing Kurt's number quickly.

The call picked up on the third ring.

"Kurt, I thought you said you were coming here. Where are you?"

A cocky, drawling voice answered, "Hey, Killer. Missing someone?"