Blaine’s itching to call Santana and complain for a little by the end of the day, for all he knows that she wouldn’t take any of that crap from him. He doesn’t think Kurt has said more than ten sentences to him all day, and they haven’t even gone over the overview they got of the hotel from that afternoon. Blaine’s already sketching out plans in his head, but from all he’s heard of Kurt’s methods, they definitely won’t coincide with what Kurt is most likely plotting out.

Kurt disappears into the bathroom when they return to the hotel, and Blaine settles himself onto the second bed, spreading the files out in front of him. He’s getting increasingly frustrated with the complications that seem to crop up every time he decides on a strategy, and collapses back onto the pillows. He half wakes to Kurt quietly sweeping the papers off the bed and draping a blanket over him, in the morning Blaine isn’t sure if it was a dream or not.

Kurt is already up and dressed when Blaine stumbles out of bed, sipping coffee at the desk and looking over the files once more. He doesn’t look up until Blaine is in and out of the bathroom, stepping up behind Kurt at the desk.

“What’s your take on this?” Kurt asks, glancing up at Blaine with steady, unreadable eyes.

Blaine reels back in surprise and tugs at the hem of his shirt absently. “I don’t like not knowing anything about the dealer,” he admits. “And I’m not sure if we’re going to be able to get past the security on our own.”

Kurt nods, flipping through the papers. “If we can get a key to the room, it will be easier. But we also need to make sure there’s no one in there when we get there.”

Blaine nods and sinks into the armchair in the corner. He definitely wasn’t expecting Kurt to actually consider Blaine’s opinions. “I know you don’t normally like to go in undercover,” Blaine says slowly. “But if you dress in a suit, you’ll probably be able to walk right in, no questions asked.”

“And how will you get in?” Kurt asks, raising a delicate eyebrow.

Blaine grins. “I happen to be an amazing maid.”

Kurt rolls his eyes. “And you’ll be able to get a job there by tomorrow?”

“It’s worth a shot,” Blaine shrugs. “Big hotels like that are almost always hiring. And if I don’t get the job, we can figure something else out.”

Kurt chews at his lower lip, gazing out the window blankly for a minute. “Okay. Get dressed. You have an interview to go to.”

Blaine leaves his curls loose and doesn’t shave, and Kurt looks a little confused when he comes out of the bathroom.

“I need to look a little more native,” Blaine explains. “And poor. No one above the lower class works in jobs like these.”

Kurt nods sharply. “What language?”

Blaine shrugs. “I haven’t decided yet. I’ll pick one once I see what ethnicity the majority of the staff is.”

“How many languages do you speak?” Kurt asks, and Blaine can’t tell if he’s defensive or just curious.

“A lot,” Blaine hedges. “I’ve never sat down and counted.”

Kurt rolls his eyes again; Blaine gets the feeling that he does that often. “Let’s go then. The sooner we figure this out, the better.”

Kurt stays behind Blaine, dressed as a rich tourist again, and Blaine keeps to the shadows, trying to avoid any unnecessary attention. Kurt sits at the outdoor café across from the hotel as Blaine finds the staff entrance, around the side of the building. Kurt spends the couple hours reading a local newspaper and sipping at a coffee. He keeps his sunglasses over his eyes so he can people watch in relative obscurity and is frowning at an oddly familiar head of hair when Blaine returns.

Blaine’s carrying a cloth sack over his shoulder and looking pleased with himself. He passes by Kurt’s table without acknowledging him, and Kurt waits a few minutes before folding up his paper and tossing coins on the table to pay for his drink. By the time Kurt gets back to the hotel, Blaine has a uniform hanging in the bathroom in an attempt to get rid of the wrinkles, and is at the desk sifting through the files.

“I’m guessing you got the job,” Kurt says dryly.

Blaine nods. “I start tomorrow afternoon.” He turns to look up at Kurt. “We should do it just after dinnertime. Hopefully the dealer will be out then. I’ll keep my head down, avoid getting noticed too much. You’ll come in, get up to the twentieth floor, just below the penthouse. I’ll go up, check if anyone’s there, and if it’s empty, you can come and poke around while I keep watch.”

Kurt presses his lips together. “And if someone’s in the room?”

Blaine shrugs. “I continue my shift, and you wait around until they leave.”

“I wish we could just break in,” Kurt mumbles, glaring at a spot on the wall.

“We’d need a hacker,” Blaine says quietly. “You saw their security.”

Kurt sighs and stands. “I know. I’m going to shower, then we can figure out what to do the rest of the day.”

Blaine slumps onto his bed once the bathroom door closes behind Kurt, he’s honestly shocked at how much Kurt is cooperating with him. He had been running on all the horror stories that float through the Agency about how difficult Kurt is to work with. Blaine has no idea if all the gossip was exaggerated or if, for some reason, Kurt is acting different around Blaine than he does with other agents. It hurts Blaine’s head too much to think about, so he settles with texting Santana, letting the snarky banter distract him from the enigma that is Kurt Hummel.