On his way to pick up said convict, Blaine couldn't help but envision a myriad of horrible scenarios involving him and Kurt and all the different ways that this whole debacle could go horribly wrong. Kurt could try and run. He probably wouldn't get too far seeing as Blaine was now 2 and 0 for catching him, but it still wouldn't look good for Blaine if he took this chance and Kurt completely disregarded him. The underlying attraction that Blaine had towards the man wasn't helping anything either. He was getting real tired of waking up in the middle of the night, hard as a rock and aching for release. He had gone through a small bottle of lube and every fantasy that didn't involve a certain blue eyed criminal that he could think of. He was running out of ideas, lube, and time allotted for sleep. It was starting to throw off his groove. There were so many different ways that this could destroy Blaine, and yet here he was, walking up to the broken down apartment hotel... thing to pick Kurt up for his first day as a member of the F.B.I.

"Hello there, I'm here to pick up Kurt Hummel? If you could ring him down for me?" Blaine asked the man who worked behind the counter. He was a tad strange looking, and he smelled suspiciously like a new car. For a moment Blaine couldn't help but feel just a little sorry for Kurt. He quickly reminded himself that Kurt was a convict and that meant he deserved this. Hell, he deserved a lot more than this, but he ever true to his particular Kurt Hummel fashion, had managed to get off easy.

"Kurt? Ohhh you mean fancy? Yeah yeah. He told me to give you this. Nice kid. Clean," the man muttered more to himself than to Blaine as he handed over a small piece of paper with Kurt's loopy handwriting on it.

Dear Agent Anderson,

I have relocated 1.6 miles away. You can find me at this address now;

317 Park Place New York, New York.

I would have texted you, but I don't have your phone number. Why don't I have your phone number? I should probably get your phone number.

Anyways! Can't wait to fight some crime with you. See you soon.

Sinc�rement,
Kurt Hummel

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

"I don't kid about chickens," the man behind the counter answered him seriously.

Slightly bewildered, Blaine decided that he would rather not know, so he nodded, turned on his heels and made his way to try and find Kurt Hummel. Again.

It seemed as though his life was starting to develop a pattern.

*

"You have got to be kidding me!" Blaine exclaimed again when he arrived at 317 Park Place. There was absolutely no way that Kurt had managed to weasel his way into living here. Especially for $400 a month. This wasn't a hotel or even an apartment. This was a mansion. A disgustingly large, old Victorian mansion. The inner designer that Blaine tried to keep hidden under his bed along with his collection of Vogue told him that the house was beautiful and he should appreciate the aesthetic value of it, but the much more prominent agent in Blaine told him that this was so deliberate hoax meant to con him. There was only one way to find out. Standing straight and pushing back his shoulders, Blaine knocked on the door.

"Hello?" A lovely woman answered the door, smiling brightly.

"Hello ma'am," Blaine began, turning on his charm the best he could, "I'm Agent Blaine Anderson. I must have the wrong house-"

"Oh yes hello! You're here for Kurtsie right?" The woman Kurt him off suddenly beaming.

"Kurtsie?"

"Yes! Kurt!"

"Oh well yes I am. He's here?" Blaine asked, unable to hide his disbelief.

"Of course. He's right up stairs in the apartment. Come on, I'll show you. I'm Mercedes by the way," she smiled at him, extending her delicate hand.
Completely bewildered, Blaine accepted her hand. Mercedes tugged him throughout the huge house, up the stairs, through what seemed to be a luxurious apartment, and out onto a beautiful balcony, finally coming to a stop in front of a fully dressed glass table, full with every breakfast food imaginable.

"Oh Agent Anderson! I see you got my letter," Kurt cooed at him, peek out from over his newspaper, "And you've met Mercedes. Lovely!"

"How in the world-" Blaine began looking around, trying to settle his gaze on anything other than the disheveled state of Kurt's chestnut hair and how it look as if somebody had threaded their fingers through the thick locks and pulled.

"Yes, beautiful isn't it? I took you advice and went to the thrift shop. I met Mercy there and she offered me a place to say. I guess you can find valuable things in the strangest places," Kurt explained, winking at Mercedes.

"This- you can't- I mean-" Blaine stumbled over his words, partly because he wasn't sure if there was any way this was legal, and partly because Kurt had just stood up from the table revealing that he had on only loose navy blue silk lounge pants that hung very very low on his hips.

"You said if could find anything better for the same price I should take it," Kurt reprimanded, stretching his arms above his head in an attempt to wake himself up.

"She- she is going to let you stay here for only $400?" Blaine asked, licking his lips absently. God he really hoped his wide eyed expression could pass for astonished and not unbelievable turned on.

"Yes well Mercedes is a gem. That and I'll be helping with the chores, you know. Walking the dog and such," Kurt explained, motioning for Blaine to take his previously occupied seat.

"You doing chores?" Blaine asked, arching his eyebrow and accepting the seat.

"Of course. I'm an honest man now agent," Kurt smiled, winking at Blaine.

"Go get dressed!" Blaine snapped, blushing furiously. This man would be the end of him, he was sure of it. How in the world had he managed to pull this one off? He was a criminal! He should be behind bars, and yet here he was in a beautiful home with beautiful clothes and a wonderful view. Blaine just didn't get it!

"You know," Blaine began, looking directly at Mercedes, "Kurt isn't some wandering kid. That's not jewelry he's wearing on his ankle. He's a felon."

Mercedes merely smiled, and poured Blaine a cup of coffee.

"So was my Sammy."

Realization crossed over Blaine's features and he nodded, taking a sip of his coffee.

"Of course," he moaned, "of course even the coffee is perfect," throwing a smile at Mercedes who giggled in return.

"Ready to go fight crime Anderson?" Kurt called from the door way.

Oh good god. Kurt looked... he looked delicious. He was dressed to the nines in tight black dress pants, a deep blue collared shirt (that was doing wonders at bringing out the color of his eyes even more) with a matching black skinny tie, and a sheet black over coat in one hand, thrown over his shoulder.
"As ready as I'll ever be with you Hummel," Blaine said, clearing his throat lightly, "Thank you so much for the coffee Mercedes."

Nodding and waving the boys off, Blaine stood up to follow Kurt out the door. Kurt stopped to hold the door open for Blaine, always playing the part of a gentleman.

"So do I get a badge?" Kurt asked skipping down the hall way After Blaine.

"Not an official agent badge. You might get a C.I. badge. We'll see," Blaine answered flatly.

"You seem upset?" Kurt asked him, tilting his head to the side.

Blaine only grunted in response.

"Was it the coffee? Cause I can totally get you some to take home."

"It's not about the coffee," Blaine answered, glaring at his feet.

"I think it might be."

"It's not."

"I really think it is about the-"

"THIS ISN'T A GAME KURT!" Blaine snapped, raising his voice at the man next to him, "This is real life, a place where most of us have been living for a whole now. This isn't the way this is supposed to work. Listen, I'm an honest guy, I do the right thing, and I work hard every day, and even I don't have that view! This is all backwards and this is how it starts. This is how your convoluted getting something for nothing plans start! And now, not only is your life on the line, so is mine! And I can't handle you rushing about treating all of this like a game!"

Breathing heavily and collecting himself, Blaine looked up at Kurt who was slightly shocked.

"I'm sorry- I didn't mean-"

"It's some sort of Italian roast I think," Kurt said, smiling softy to let Blaine know he was forgiven.

Snorting, Blaine side eyed Kurt and smiled.

"What's up with the hat? You look like a cartoon character," Blaine said, slipping easily into the snarky banter that he and Kurt were slowly perfecting. It was good, it was light, and it was comfortable.

"Excuse me?" Kurt asked, stopping in front of the archway that led outside, a hand on his hip and glaring, "This is classic Rat Pack, this is Dior!"

"Okay Darkwing Duck, if you say so," Blaine snickered, walking briskly out the door to his car.

"Darkwing did not wear a classy fedora!" Kurt called, chasing after him angrily.

"Again, if you say so," Blaine answered before getting into his car, the smile still on his face.

If someone asked Blaine how he thought this new found camaraderie would play out, he'd have to tell them that he hadn't the slightest clue. Kurt was strange and crazy and brilliant. He always zigged when Blaine thought he was going to zag, and if Blaine was being honest, he'd have to admit he kinda loved that about Kurt.

So no, Blaine had no idea what was going to happen here, but there was one thing that he was absolutely certain of; if Kurt had anything to do with it, it would be one hell of a ride.