Good god Blaine couldn't deal with this so early in the morning. His traitor of a mind was sending explicit images of him sinking his teeth into that perfect ass straight to his traitor cock.

"Give me that," Blaine said roughly, snatching the folder out of Kurt's hands and handing it back to the wide eyed intern, "Don't touch anything unless your told to. Now come on, I'll show you your desk."

"I get a desk?" Kurt asked as he followed closely behind the agent.

Too close too close not close enough,Blaine chanted in his mind as he led Kurt up the stairs to the second floor.

"That's because you spent the better part of your working age life running from me," the agent answered. He stopped in front of a sleek wooden desk located in the room directly next to his office. The wall connecting the two rooms was made of bullet proof, sound proof glass. Kurt could easily see into Blaine's office, but that way he couldn't hear him.

"Ohhhhh," Kurt purred sitting up on the desk and crossing his long legs, "I get to play up here with the big boys?"

"I need you to stay close so I can keep an eye on you," Blaine told him rolling his eyes.

"Mmmmm I always knew you thought I was pretty," Kurt smirked, batting his long eyelashes at the flustered agent.

"Oh shut up Hummel," Blaine glared and praying to anybody that could be listening that he wasn't as red as he felt, "Were focusing the case in 15 minutes. Read the files I've left on your desk and then join us in the boardroom, and for god sake, you have a chair, use it."

"Yes sir," Kurt told him, smirking again. Blaine blushed furiously and made his way over to his office.

Sitting down in a huff, Blaine shoved his hands into his hair and groaned. He could not even handle this. Kurt and his stupidly perfect body and his snarky voice and his beautiful eyes. It really wasn't fair that the man that Blaine had put in prison twice literally looked like he stepped out of one of the agents midnight fantasies. He was literally perfect and Blaine knew that he was playing with fire by agreeing to take him on as a CI, but what could he do? Those stupid blue eyes held a special place in his heart and he just couldn't say no.
Blaine had never dealt with this before. He'd always been professional and quick. He'd never felt this insane tug towards a man before, and a convict no less. There was just something about Kurt Hummel that drew Blaine in, no matter how hard he fought it. Blaine didn't trust Kurt in the least bit, but that didn't stop him from wanting him.

Groaning again Blaine scrubbed at his head again and finally allowed himself to look up. When he finally did, he couldn't help but look over to the clear wall that connected him to the man that kept plaguing his thoughts.

Kurt was completely immersed in the files that Blaine had left him. His magnificent eyes were wide and his puffy bottom lip was drawn up between his teeth. As his eyes shifted back and forth, reading at lightening speed, his eyebrows furrowed slightly, like he was deep in thought.

Blaine's breath caught in his throat, and not for the first time he was thankful that his room was sound proof. In that moment, Kurt was almost angelic. Sure, Blaine constantly unwillingly objectified Kurt on a regular basis, but right then, looking at him when he thought no one was, it was like seeing into Kurt's very being and he was stunning.

Shaking his head, Blaine turned his head back to the files on his desk. He had a job to do, and wrestling his feelings for a known criminal was not it

"Alright guys," Blaine began, but was cut off by a loud cough from Santana.

"And lady," Blaine amended rolling his eyes. He looked at Santana pointedly, asking if it was okay to continue. She gave him a quick nod and he picked back up, "This guy, The Banker, he's dangerous, and it's our job to stop him. So what do we have?"

Blaine swore he could hear crickets chirping.

"Really? Nothing, we have nothing? How can we have nothing?" Blaine exclaimed.

"All we know is that he's stolen money from 4 banks now. It all totals to $2.5 million. The last one he robbed was he one here in New York City. The leads and sources we have tell us that he's going to use the money to buy something from the underground art market, something big," an agent announced, scratching at his black mohawk.

"That makes no sense," Santana mumbled, "If he wanted something, why didn't he just steal that?"

"It actually makes perfect sense. Blaine, if I may?" Kurt cut in from the back of the room.

Blaine gave his a short nod, and Kurt stood up and walked to the front of the room. He was a performer, and if was going to do this, all eyes would be on him while he did.

"He's been stealing cash the same way now for a 4 bank streak. Every bank has lost a lot of money, and not just from him taking it, but from his little ink stunt he keeps pulling. All tracking devices that any bank has are useless unless they have something to base the tracking off of. So by inking the money, it won't leave a paper trail. He's smart, he's just no imaginative. He can't figure out another way to pull the robberies off and he knows that someone is going to catch on to the ink factor of his scheme sooner or later. My guess is that's he's figured out that you don't really need a chemical agent to clear the ink up; it'll do it by itself. The thing is, is that he doesn't know how long it takes, and now he's panicking. He wants some form of art or other valuable from the underground market because it's just as valuable as the money, but it's untraceable. He wants to pawn the money off on someone else so that by the time the ink clears up and the money can be tracked, it'll lead to some underground art dealer and he'll get off scot free," Kurt explained easily. Looking around the room he noticed several people with their mouths actually open in both awe and confusion. Kurt smiled brightly at them, acting as if this was the simplest thing in the world.

"So then why did he use disappearing ink? Why didn't he just let the money get destroyed?" Blaine asked him, slightly confused.

"If a stork brought you a sack of money to your porch, would you shoot it, or let it go so it could come back with more?" Kurt asked coolly.

"He wanted to leave it open ended so he could break in and steal more money," Santana gasped.

"By George she's got it!" Kurt cheered, only slightly sarcastic.
"Don't screw with her Hummel, she will rip you a new ass," Blaine murmured to him, motioning him to sit down next to him.
Kurt merely waved him off and continued to speak to the room full of agents.
"His file shows that he's got a thing for expensive things, so we figure out what he wants to buy, we get one, and we snag him!" Kurt explained, clapping his hands together and falling down into the chair next to Blaine.

"How do you propose we find out what he wants all knowing Hummel? We don't know who he is!" Santana snapped at him.

"Easy there Salsa Calient, the guy likes to be in the high end of things. He follows trends. That's bound to translate into his criminal life as well, so we find out what's hot on the black market and we go from there," Kurt explained, not even blanching at Santana's harsh tone.

"If you haven't noticed, we're all kind of F.B.I agents. We don't really have the means to go around asking about the black market without causing a ruckus," A large agent from the back of the room said.

"Don't worry Frankenfed, I know just the person to help us out," Kurt said with a semi evil grin.

Oh Blaine did not like the looks of that.