Chapter six

After everyone had settled down, Puck had grumbled about missing a Halo tournament, Kurt snapped another retort about mindless ass wipes, and Blaine just slipped back into bed and closed his eyes. He was far too tired to deal with another crisis, so if anything bad happened, Blaine just accepted the fact that he was going to let it run its course. A terrible plan for a Safe House agent, but really, what could go wrong? 

Shit, Blaine thought, cliched line that everyone says before something goes horribly, horribly wrong. He tensed, he only had to get through about ten disaster free seconds before he was in the clear. 

8, 9, 10…Blaine sighed, finally, something went right. No one died or was fatally injured, no one accused anyone else of rape. Everything was going according to- 

“Blaine!” Puck's three heavy knocks pounded on his door. “Um. don't freak out, but uh. You should just come out here.”

Blaine sighed, he supposed he had asked for it. He clambered out of bed, pulled open his bedroom door, and gave Puck the most aggravated look he could muster, which apparently wasnt that scary. Puck looked fearful when Blaine snapped open the door, but he had yet to lift his eyes from Blaine's feet.

“Yes, Noah.”

“So, um. This isnt even a definite problem, but I went into Kurt's room and he wasn't there. So um I looked at the footage, from literally two minutes ago, and Kurt left-”

“Kurt. What?” 

“It's not a big deal, let's just go out and find him he's probably just outside!” Puck glanced up at Blaine and cringed, he looked really fucking mad. 

“Puck! How did this happen-”

Just when Puck thought Blaine might actually hit him, they heard the door slam. Foot steps came down the hallway, and soon Kurt himself stood staring at them.

“What the hell are you guys yelling about?” Kurt said, had the audacity to say. Blaine was white hot with rage. He spoke slowly and in a tone scarier than either Kurt or Puck had ever had him speak.

“Kurt…what exactly did I say about not leaving the house. Ever.” Kurt just so happened to not appreciate the way Blaine was speaking to and a wicked smirk flipped onto his face.

“Calm down, Blainey boo. Actually, don't, you are damn sexy when youre angry.” After he spoke, Kurt took a step back to admire his handiwork. Blaine looked as if he might explode right then and there. 

“Kurt Hummel. This is not a joke. You could have given away our location or been shot right then and there on the curb! What were you even doing out there?”

Kurt huffed an agitated sigh, “I was getting my bag, for your information, it was in your trunk.” Just then, Blaine noticed a tattered white bag from next to Kurt's feet. “I grabbed it out of the Kenny's house while we were there.”

Blaine nodded, seeming to have calmed down a bit. A bit. “Please never do that again. You could have asked Puck to go grab it for you.”

“I will never be speaking to that moron unless it is absolutely necessary. What kind of a name is Puck anyway?” Kurt eyed Puck suspiciously.

“Noah, if you like. Puck's just a nickname, baby.” Puck puffed his chest out. Blaine was just about to intervene, but he turned to look at Puck with an open mouth.

“Baby?” Blaine asked incredulously.

Puck quickly realized his mistake. “I mean uh. Yeah, Puck's the name, if youve got a problem, take it up with the destroyer.” Puck gestured to his fist. Kurt just stared for a few more seconds before rolling his eyes away and dragging his bag up to his room, leaving Blaine and Puck, once again. 

Blaine was grinning wildly. He opened his mouth to respond, but before he could speak, Puck was doing damage control.

“Shut up, Blaine. It's his girl voice, it throws me off.” Puck turned and stomped off into his bedroom. Puck had been up half the night monitoring the security footage, so he was going to sleep for the next six hours. He was fairly predictable to Blaine. 

Now, since it was Blaine's rotation, he had to alternate between staring at screens and keeping Kurt entertained so he didnt cause anymore chaos. Blaine shuffled off into the security room and just over an hour later, a plate banged down on his desk.

“Lunch. It's twelve thirty.” Kurt stood above him, apron tied around his waist, hand on hip, and waiting for a response.

“Thanks, Kurt. You didnt have to do that.” Blaine looked down at his plate. Some delicious smelling meat with a side of corn and rice. Was all of this in the house? Or is Kurt just a magician. 

“Damn right, I didnt have to do this. I'm no one's slave, you can't tell me what to do at all times.” Kurt glanced back down at the plate. “I made it because, I guess, maybe it was a dick move to leave the house without telling you. And I'm sorry.” 

“Kurt that means so-”

“Enough! Or I'll never cook again.” And, just like that, Kurt was gone. What in the hell was going on in that man's head, Blaine would just never know. 

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Blaine emailed his boss, ate Kurt's marvelous food, fiddled with his iphone, and tried to entertain himself for what felt like hours. Blaine checked the clock, 15 minutes had gone by. Wonderful. This in itself was a complete summary of why he loathed Safe House duty. At least having Puck and Kurt around somewhat entertained him, but they were both who-knows-where right now. 

After playing with rubber bands for an hour and smacking himself in the eye, he went off to wake up Puck. He didnt care if he was selfish, he was bored. He heard someone cursing and dropping pots in the kitchen halfway to Puck's room and changed direction, drifting towards the sound of expletives. 

“God damn it!” Puck roared. 

“What are you doing?” Blaine asked him.

“What does it look like, asshole, I'm cooking,” Puck snapped.

“Yes, well then I suppose the intended question is why? Kurt made lunch.” 

“Did he now! You see, Kurt stopped by my room and gave me this, ‘lunch.'” Puck lifted up a clean plate. “He gave me an empty plate! He said ‘perverts eat food they make themselves.' It wasnt even that clever, just friggen mean!”

“Yeah, that is kind of uncool. I'll go talk to him, just…keep doing what youre doing.” Blaine headed to Kurt's room and missed Puck flipping him off.

“Kurt! I think we should talk about Puck.” He pushed open Kurt's door. “He's a really nice guy, you just got off on the wrong-,” his words died in his throat. Kurt was standing at the foot of his bed, facing away from Blaine, in only boxer briefs. “-foot.”

He was beautiful. jaw dropping, pale, stunning skin, stretched over muscles much larger than they appeared under layers and layers of clothing. And that ass, God. After a moment, Blaine's eyes were drawn to a silvery scar, going from his left hip to the middle of his back. 

Blaine realized he was staring, he realized Kurt realized this too, he just couldnt bring himself to care. He took two large strides over to Kurt and ran his fingers over the scar.

“I-” Kurt's eyes were huge. It was amazing to see Kurt without a sneer or a smirk on his face. 

“How did you get this?” 

Kurt closed his eyes, tears springing in the back of them, and when they opened they were hard and cold.

“That's none of your business.” Kurt slipped away, pulling a t-shirt on over his head and wrapping his arms protectively around himself. An obviously defensive snarl played at his lips. “This isnt going to work if both you and Puck are perverts. You should at least take turns.” 

“Kurt-”

“Stop. And get out. I have Mrs. Lopez's number and I am really not afraid to use it.”

Blaine nodded wordlessly and quickly left Kurt's room, leaving Kurt's smirk to fall. He slid down bonelessly on his bed. He curled up in the sheets and wondered how things had gone from bad to much, much worse in just a few minutes.