Kurt was being a tad melodramatic, he knew, it was just that last night, crying in Rachel's arms, was the first time he'd ever actually admitted his feelings towards the agent out loud. He felt as if it should have been some sort of ground breaking revelation, but in all honesty, it wasn't. He'd always know that it was Blaine, since the moment so many years ago. Kurt had never really believed in love at first sight, not until he met Blaine. He could remember her it like it was yesterday. He had accidentally run straight into the agent on the street. Literally ran into him. Kurt immediately knew he'd never meet anyone as beautiful as the man in front of him ever again.

"I'm so sorry sir," Blaine had said kindly, holding out his warm hand to help Kurt off the sidewalk where he had fallen.

"Oh no no, it was my fault," Kurt had smiled at the handsome man, accepting the hand with gratitude. He could still feel the broad callous of his warm hands to this day.

"I'm sorry- you just, you look so familiar- do I know you?" Blaine had asked him after a moment of gazing into his eyes.

If any other person in the world had asked Kurt that question, he would have fired off a sleazy comment like "no but would you like to" or something along those lines, but something about this man's bright honey eyes made him want to curl around him and tell him ever last detail about his life, and in Kurt's particular line of work that's a very dangerous feeling.

"No- I don't this so," Kurt had settled on saying, blushing slightly, "Who are you?"

"Oh, I'm Agent Blaine Anderson," Blaine had offered, smiling.

Kurt remembered that moment as the moment his heart broke. Because Blaine did know him. He knew him from case files and most wanted excerpts. That's all Blaine would ever know him as. Because Blaine was an agent, and Kurt was a con.

"No- no, my name's Jeremiah, I've never met an agent before," Kurt managed to stutter out. He and Blaine had exchanged a few more pleasantries and Kurt had gotten a way as fast as he could. He hoped he'd never have to see that beautiful face ever again, but in the span of about 8 months, Agent Blaine Anderson learned that the handsome man he'd run into in the street wasn't Jeremiah, but rather a wanted convict, one whom he'd allowed to slip right through his fingers.

Kurt was ripped from his nostalgic self pitying by the door beneath his knuckles being opened in a huff.

Nothing in the world, no amount of porn or otherwise, could have prepared Kurt for the image he was met with.

There, in the arch way of his home, was a half asleep, very adorable, very almost naked Blaine Anderson.

Kurt's breath caught in his throat. Blaine had obviously not realized what was going on just yet, and Kurt couldn't help but seize the opportunity by getting a good look in. Blaine was devastatingly gorgeous this his curly tussled hair free from its usual gel. He had on very flimsy lounge pants that were slung dangerously low on his prominent hips, and it was easy to tell he wasn't wearing anything underneath. These pants left literally nothing to the imagination, and his morning "predicament" was proudly on display. Oh and dear god he was shirtless.

Kurt never knew that chest hair was a thing for him, seeing as he didn't have any himself, but with one look at the sparse black hair that exploded over the agent's chest, Kurt knew he'd never be able to forget it. His eyes trailed down over the agents taught abdomen (dear god why did he hide that body under this bulky blazers) and to the thick patch of hair that trailed down into his pajama pants. Kurt couldn't control the onslaught of images of him burying his face in that hair and just licking that berated his mind suddenly. It took everything he had in him not to whine out loud.

"Oh my god! You're early!" Blaine yelped, waking up in that moment and trying to use the door as some form of cover.

"Actually, it's 10:45. I'm not that early," Kurt told him, averting his eyes and trying his hardest not to blush like a teenaged school boy.

"I- shit- I must have slept in a little too late," Blaine said, turning beat red and ushering Kurt into the house while still trying to keep himself covered.

Do not blurt out that you were up all night fantasizing about him you idiot, Blaine ranted to himself in his head.

"It's fine sleepy head-" Kurt giggled and looked at Blaine from under his eyelashes, "Go out a shirt on and we'll get to work on this dress alright?"

"I uh- yeah that's, that's a good plan," Blaine managed to stutter out whilst trying not to trip over his own feet. God damn it, he did not like the affect that this man had on him. Kurt was dressed in a black turtle neck that somehow accentuated his long pale neck, and tight (wonderfully tight) dark blue jeans. He looked almost edible. Blaine could already tell that this was going to be a long and frustrating day.

"Just, the living room is that way, you- you go set up and everything and I'll just go- you know- cloth myself," Blaine muttered pointing Kurt towards the room they would be working in.

"Sounds like a plan suit," Kurt giggled. Blaine stopped to smile at him, a real heartfelt smile, and then turned to race up the stairs.

Kurt stared after him for just a moment longer, a secret kind of longing in his eyes that nobody could ever see, and then turned to set up in the living room.

He dropped all the fabric and such off on to the wooden table that had been haphazardly shoved into the room and then dropped himself onto the couch. Sighing, he looked around at the obviously lived in suburb home.

It was so warm and inviting here, so much like the man that occupied it. Kurt couldn't believe that nobody had snatched Blaine up and kept him hidden away all to themselves. He was literally perfect. He was handsome and charming and sexy and sweet and just so damn good that it made Kurt's head spin in the best way possible. In those sleepy moments there on the door step, well Kurt had never wanted to kiss Blaine more, and it sucked. It sucked that he'd never get to give into those emotions; he'd never get to have the man of his dreams wrapped in his arms. He'd never be allowed to tell Blaine that he was truly madly deeply in love with him, and to Kurt, that was way worse than some stupid old prison. Prison he could break out of. He had no way of escaping his own heart.

"When did I get so fucking melodramatic?" Kurt asked himself.

When you went and fell in love with an F.B.I agent,his subconscious supplied for him.

Wow. He was starting to talk to and answer himself. That could not be healthy.

"Alright! I'm fully clothed!" Blaine called, hurtling himself down the steps.

"Oh joy," Kurt grumbled under his breath.

"What was that?" Blaine asked as he appeared in the living room. His hair was still a tussled mess but now he was dressed in navy blue sweat pants and a white v-neck tee-shirt. Those sweatpants did amazing things for his bottom, and Kurt would not have been surprised if the word "agent" had been stamped across the ass. He was panting slightly from running down the stair and his gorgeous eyes were bright and alive with the idea of hatching a plan. He looked so simple, so happy, he looked miraculous. Kurt could hardly stand it.

"I said, let's get going!" Kurt managed to squeak out, avert his eyes and trying to get his mind cleared.

"I never thought I'd say this, but I am at your mercy," Blaine joked, shuffling in to sit closer to Kurt, "Tell me what to do."

You don't know how many times you have said that in my head, Kurt thought to himself.

"That's what I like to here!" Kurt joked, trying to smooth over the awkward tension that Blaine's words had brought up in him. He stated at Blaine for a moment, only to find that Blaine was staring back, his lips slightly parted and his eyes shining with something Kurt couldn't place.

After a minute, they caught themselves and both boys blushed and looked away, still smiling faintly.

It was going to be a long day.