"Let me see it," Blaine called out as soon as Kurt walked- make that skipped, he was literally skipping- out of the super max.

Smirking, Kurt lifted his pant leg to reveal a chunky black tracking device. Knowing Kurt the way he did, Blaine knew wearing that device was a huge sacrifice for him, for the mere fact that it went well with absolutely nothing. Blaine actually felt a strange jolt of accomplishment at that. Good, let him be uncomfortable.

"You are aware of what this means, correct?" Blaine asked him, still glaring from a distance.

"It means that I belong to you for the next four years. I have to do everything you say, when you say it. I'm to obey the rules, always and no matter what," Kurt spouted off in a monotone voice, a look of complete boredom tainting his pretty features.

Blaine broke out into a smile despite himself.

"How long did they keep you up rehearsing that?"

"All damn night! It was border line cruel and unusual punishment," Kurt whined, skipping over to Blaine, and in a fury of excitement, tree his arms around the agent in a fierce hug.

Taken aback, Blaine couldn't help but subtly inhale the musky scent that was so male and so undeniable Kurt. It made his head spin in that deliciously euphoric way.

Shaking his head in hopes to clear it, Blaine patted Kurt on the shoulders and stiffly pushed him away.

"Okay number one, stop randomly hugging me, alright. We aren't long lost buddies. This is your job now, so you have to act like a professional," Blaine said sternly, easily slipping into his "Big Bad Agent" persona, "Number two, this is temporary. You help me catch the Banker and we will discuss making it permanent."

Nodding enthusiastically, Kurt started bouncing on his toes as he followed Blaine to his car.

"I have a few questions, of course," Kurt began.

"You don't get to have questions," Blaine grumbled, opening the door for Kurt.

"Ever the gentleman," Kurt snickered, "But yes I am so allowed to have questions. I've made some mistakes, but I'm still a human being. That being said I do not feel like one. So my question is what should I do about clothing, because as you can see I'm wearing my entire wardrobe and it's doing nothing for me."

"You like bargains, make your way down to the thrift store and find yourself something," Blaine grunted, rolling his eyes at the man next to him. Kurt was upset to the point where it was physically noticeable.

"Here we are," Blaine Said smirking as he led Kurt to a dingy admittedly horrible looking hotel.

"You have got to be kidding me," Kurt groaned.

"Hello, I'm here with Kurt Hummel, I called about him earlier?" Blaine inquired at the head desk, choosing to completely ignore Kurt's rotten attitude.

"Oh yeah, look 'im. Hi ya doing there fancy," the bald man at the counter grinned, showing off his lack of teeth and handing over the keys.

"Blaine can I speak to you for a moment, over here?" Kurt asked quickly, grimacing at the bald man.

"Blaine I cannot live here," he whispered frantically, "it's disgusting."

"Oh no no no," Blaine said, jabbing an accusatory finger into Kurt's chest, "You don't get to complain. You lost that right when you stole all those paintings-"

"Allegedly," Kurt cut in.

Blaine glared at Kurt with a look that said, "Shut the hell up," and continued.

"You lost that right, so you are going to live here. Four hundred bucks a month. That's how much it cost to have you locked up, that's how much the government is willing to spend on you out here. Now you can take the keeps from the kind man or you can hop in my car and take a ride back down to the super max, your choice."

Throwing Blaine a perfected bitch glare, Kurt snatched up the keys in a huff.

"If you can find something better for the same amount within your two miles, be my guest," Blaine smirked.

"I can't believe I have to go buy my clothes at a thrift shop," Kurt whined indignantly.

"Sorry, that's the way it goes," Blaine smiled, oddly proud of himself, "I'll be here at 7 am tomorrow. Be ready to go."

With one parting smirk, Blaine spun on his heels and walks out of the hotel lobby. And Kurt was alone.

"Hey dere, don't chu be worried fancy. Well take good care of ya'."

Grimacing at the creepy man behind the counter, Kurt decided to go and do what he did best. Well other than steal priceless things and forge perfect banking stubs.

It was time to go shopping

*

Blaine was right. There was a small thrift shop right down the street from the horrible hotel that that agency had housed him in. He could not even believe that this is what his life had come to. Living in a creepy broken down building and shopping at a thrift store. It was the price he has to pay to get out of the cell.

Kurt allowed his mind to wander a bit as he delicately shifted through the racks in the store. On the bright side, he did get to work with Blaine. He would never admit it out loud, but the agent fascinated him. He couldn't put his finger on exactly what it was, but when he was around the man, he just felt... good. He felt a strange sense of calm and safety. And that was saying something, because Kurt never felt safe and most definitely never felt calm.

Not to mention Agent Anderson was gorgeous. Like, disturbingly handsome. Kurt knew that they were supposed to be some sort f sworn enemies, but he just could not bring himself to hate someone so fucking hot.

The best part was that Agent Anderson didn't know who stunning he was. Kurt lived for those moments of harmless flirting that made the agent get flustered and uncomfortable. The fact that he didn't know how hot he was made him so much hotter.

Kurt was an honest man in everything but his "job". He would openly admit that he had spent a couple cold lonely nights in that cell with his hand around his dock and Blaine's name on his lips. He was just that open.

Kurt was pulled from his indecent day dreams by a pretty voice floating through the store.

"Hello, I'd like to donate some more of my husband's things," a beautiful black woman said, smiling at the young man behind the counter.

"Hello," Kurt cut in, smiling his best smile at the woman, " I couldn't help but notice, these are McQueen!"

"Yes," the lady giggled slightly, " My late husband, Sammy, he had a knack for high end fashion."

"A man of my own heart!"

"I'm Mercedes," the woman smiled, extending her hand out to Kurt, who of course, gripped it tightly and kissed her hand, grinning.

"I have a full room full of Sammy's old things if you're interested. He'd love to know that his clothes were going to someone who could appreciate them. Well not really a room, it's more of an apartment really."

Smiling widely, Kurt batted his eyelashes.

"How far away do you live?"

"Not far," Mercedes said, smirking lightly.

"Lead the way, my lady."