The perpetual headache that Kurt had grown accustomed to spiked whenever Blaine pushed for his freedom or made demands, to the point where Kurt knew he was going to need to medicate himself more in order to handle this petulant man who didn't seem to appreciate that his circumstances at present could have been much, much worse.

When Kurt left in the morning and went to his office, the first thing he had done was look into the status of Sebastian, finding out where he was and what he was doing before the meat market manager reminded Kurt that if he was dissatisfied with his product, two of the would-be buyers had left their information and were willing to buy Blaine off him. It would have been for less than the price Kurt paid, of course, but that was all typical of how things operated in the underworld he dwelled in.  

He did, though, take the information about those potential buyers and did his research on them. One was a brothel owner, as sketchy as they came, whose “employees” were typically of the illegal immigrant variety, hoping to earn their way to freedom in America. The other wasn't much better. Well known in the meat market circuit as someone who used his pet's until they were broken and then resold them to underground illegal drug testing rings as lab rats.  

By comparison, what Blaine had with Kurt was the royal treatment. Yet here he was, once again, demanding to know how to be free.

“I don't know…” Kurt began with an irritated sigh as he snapped the book that he had been reviewing shut.

“Bullshit. I saw the papers. You want me to be your personal whore.”

Kurt cringed with the interruption, and immediately his eyes narrowed and his voice filled with spit. “No. I don't. For starters - a decent whore is a lot cheaper than you were and quite willing and able to do anything I'd like with a smile on their damned faces.”

There was a flicker in Blaine's eyes, one that Kurt couldn't pinpoint the reason to. However, since Blaine said nothing immediately to that information, Kurt continued.

“... and in the short time you've been here, you've caused more messes than cleaned up - so I'm sure as shit not going to have you clean.”

“What's the point in keeping me if you don't want me for anything?”

A good question, and one Kurt had been inwardly searching for the answer to since he purchased Blaine.  

“For your safety to begin with. There are some people who would still like to own you by any means necessary…”

“Bullshit.”

It took everything in Kurt not to stand up and yell at Blaine with that latest interruption, but he managed to just ball his fists so tight the nails dug into his palms instead. “You have no fucking idea what kind of people I work with, so you'd better watch your tongue before I do sell you off to the next highest bidder.”

That caught Blaine's attention, at least enough for him to take a step back and bite his tongue for a half second before uttering out, “I need to get out of here and make sure Sebastian is alright.”

Kurt snorted. “Sebastian is fine. He's settling his debts.”

“How can you know that?”

“I checked into it.”

“Is he okay? Is he hurt? Did they do anything to him?” Blaine's voice changed, much to Kurt's annoyance, the instant he started focusing on his friend. How could Blaine not see that Sebastian was not worth the effort that he put into him?

“He is fine.”

“Prove it to me.”

Kurt rolled his eyes and reached into his jacket pocket for his pack of cigarettes. “No.”

“I'll… do what you want… just show me that Sebastian is okay.”

To that, Kurt lifted a solitary eyebrow,“Really?”

His action and question seemed to give Blaine worried pause, but after a drawn out second Blaine nodded,“Yeah… I need to know he's alright and safe…”

“Despite what he did to you?”

Blaine shook his head. “He didn't do that. It's made up. Sebastian is my friend.”

How naive was Blaine to really think that? Didn't he see the papers? Didn't he trust what Kurt had told him?

Kurt sighed. Of course he didn't.

“Fine. Tomorrow.”

He didn't miss how Blaine seemed to lift onto his toes at that pronouncement, nor did he miss the effort Blaine made to contain the excitement within him. “In the meantime, go put away the boxes of new dishes and groceries that were delivered while you were out.”

To his surprise, Kurt got no argument from Blaine with that bit of direction, and the man stepped away without any word of complaint to tend to the kitchen and finally leave Kurt alone. Dealing with other people was taxing, especially since he had to do it all day for work, so he was not enjoying having his privacy infringed upon by having to care for another person.

Kurt went back to reading once he heard the cupboards open and close, along with the fridge. Stock markets weren't terribly exciting to him, but it was a necessary evil to understand with the financial management he did, and he needed to be the best at them to ensure the trust of his clients who were already fickle to begin with. Several more pages in, he noticed a smell coming from the kitchen, one he didn't immediately recognize, and shut his book once more to go investigate.

Blaine had put away everything as he had been told, but now was standing in front of the stove, stirring a medley of vegetables and meats in a frying pan while another pot bubbled on another burner. To say that Kurt didn't expect the sight was an understatement, and what he didn't expect either was the way his heart seemed to shoot up into his throat as he processed the image.  

“What're you doing?”

“Cooking supper…” Blaine said simply, looking up and towards Kurt as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

“... why?”

“Because it's that time of day and I'm hungry and you probably are too…”

Huh. Kurt tipped his head a little to the side, but didn't allow any other nonverbal cues to give away his surprise and delight. Not only was Blaine taking care of himself, but he had thought to make supper for Kurt too.  

“I wasn't aware you cooked,”Kurt finally noted as he caught Blaine's questioning stare and went to the fridge to collect a bottle of water.

“Well, I don't have the luxury of having money to order in every day.”

Kurt sighed as he unscrewed the cap of his water and took a sip, leaning back against the counter behind Blaine to watch him work. Kurt had once liked to cook, and had done so for his dad on so many occasions to try and have him eat healthier. Cooking now was just a reminder that he was only making food for himself and his efforts in life earlier hadn't worked the way he intended.

The meal was delicious, and Kurt had forgotten just how different a homecooked meal could be from one slathered in preservatives and sauces. If nothing else, Blaine could start being his personal chef and Kurt would be more than satisfied with it.

Except that he wouldn't be. He already knew that. He had lied when he told Blaine he didn't want to sleep with him and watching the other man eat, fixating on those plush lips as they chewed across from him, was torture.

“How are you going to take me anywhere when I can't get through the door?” Blaine asked once most of his plate had been emptied, and Kurt felt a pang of guilt go through him as he realized it was probably the first time Blaine had eaten since he arrived.

“I contact the market to let them know the path,” Kurt said plainly. It was actually simpler than that, but he didn't want to let Blaine know considering how adamant Blaine seemed to be about escaping. If a third party seemed to be involved, it would make the risk of Blaine running less likely.

“How do I know you won't try to trick me?”

“You don't.”

“Will I get to talk to him?”

“That's up to him.”

“Well, then of course he'll talk to me!”

The amount of loyalty Blaine had to someone that had deceived him so badly was both admirable and ridiculous, and Kurt had to wonder what Sebastian had done to earn it, and what he could do, in turn, to have it redirected to him.

After a pause, Blaine changed the subject, though not to anything Kurt was any more comfortable speaking about.

“So you're a mobster.”

“I'm an associate.”

“Same thing.”

“No… it's not really,” Kurt grumbled, looking at his empty water bottle and wishing it was filled with something that had some burn to it.

“Do you kill people?”

“Not directly.”

“Steal from people?”

“I handle their money.”

“I thought gangs didn't use banks.”

Kurt sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “Look.  There are plenty of books in my library on the history of the mafia in the United States. Go educate yourself while you're here so I don't have to function as a dictionary for you, or a mob encyclopedia. All you have to know is that I work with dangerous people.”

“But you're not dangerous?” The question was asked in such a way that it bled of sarcasm, and the irritation Kurt was already trying to fend off grew.

“I am, just in a different way.”

“So you're Italian.”

“No… I…” Another forced sigh, another pinch to the top of his nose.  “Look. I'm not a made man. I don't deal with just one family, I deal with them all, along with a lot of the ethnic mobs…”

“How do you even sleep at night? Is your mother proud of you?”

“My mother died when I was eight,” Kurt announced flatly, glaring Blaine's way.

“Of course she did,” was the snarky reply, Blaine glaring back at Kurt just as fiercely.

“What the hell does that mean?”

“It means you can't have had a mom to be capable of such things.”

“From what I read, your mom wasn't terribly involved in your life either, and was quite alright with cutting you loose when you left for New York.”

It was Blaine's turn to be reduced to silence then, his glare lingering for a moment before he looked down at his plate and picked over the remains of his food. “It's not fair that you know all that.”

“And neither is it damned fair that you make assumptions about who I am and what I do based on what happened to me when I was younger. You didn't even know me then!”

Except that he did, at least for a moment, and that memory flickered through Kurt's brain with perfect clarity. Blaine didn't know it though, or at least it wasn't significant enough for him to remember it, and perhaps that was what hurt Kurt about it most of all - that he wasn't worth remembering to someone that had meant so much to him at one point in time.