Kurt Anderson prides himself on three things. His voice, his eye for fashion and his ability to lie through his teeth to his husband.

Kurt brushes his teeth and spits it out in the sink, just as Blaine comes up behind him to spit into the sink as well.

"You couldn't wait until I was done?" Kurt asks, stepping away from the sink to pull on his pants.

Blaine rinses his mouth and gargles, and then spits that in the sink as well. "No. I couldn't wait to spit out the gross toothpaste in my mouth. If you had bought the one you were supposed to buy, it wouldn't have been a problem."

Kurt raises an eyebrow as he does up the buttons on his shirt. "It's not my fault you forgot to put it on the list."

"We've been married six years. You should know what sort of toothpaste I like by now," Blaine says.

Kurt rolls the sleeves of his shirt up to his elbows and then buttons them up. "Seven years. We've been married for seven years."

"Even more reason for you to know the kind of toothpaste I like," Blaine answers as he tugs on his pants.

Kurt sighs and walks from the bedroom to the kitchen. "Don't forget we have an appointment with Miss Pillsbury this afternoon. I scheduled it on both of our lunch breaks so we could make it. Don't be late."

"I won't.  I still don't think we need to go and see a shrink, but if that's what you think we should do then I'll go with you," Blaine says as he grabs his lunch from the counter.

Kurt turns to set the alarm, pushing the button only once Blaine's already out the door.

"So why don't you start by telling me why you're here?"

Kurt crosses and then uncrosses his legs, looks down at his hands in his lap and then looks over at Blaine. They make eye contact and Kurt nods his head, silently suggesting Blaine starts talking first.

"Well, let me start by saying that I don't think we need to be here," Blaine says.

The therapist, Emma Pillsbury, looks between them and writes something down before looking back up. "Well, Kurt must have booked the appointment for a reason," she says with a smile. "So why do you think you're here, Blaine?"

Blaine clears his throat and crosses his legs. "I think this is more of a check up. Kind of like when you take a car in to get looked at even though you know everything's okay. Preventative maintenance."

"Okay. Let's check under the hood. On a scale of 1-10, how happy would you say you are in the relationship?" Emma asks.

"Eight," Kurt says at the same time that Blaine says, "One being miserable or zero being miserable?"

Emma jots something else down in her notebook. "Answer instinctively."

"Ready?" asks Kurt.

Blaine nods and together they answer, "Eight."

Emma scribbles something down quickly before she looks back up. "Okay, so why don't you tell me how you met?"

"Well, it was six years ago-"

"Seven. We met seven years ago," Kurt interrupts.

Blaine smiles at him knowingly before he continues speaking.

"It was six or seven years ago in Italy. We were both vacationing and we were staying at the same hotel," Blaine starts.

Kurt turns to look as the front door to the hotel is thrown open, and over a dozen police officers storm inside. He tosses back his shot of vodka, wiping his mouth before he sets it back down on the bar.

"What's all the fuss about?/Cos'è tutto questo trambusto su?" Kurt asks the bartender.

The bartender takes Kurt's shot glass and washes it down before throwing it a small distance so it lands in a nearby bin. "Someone killed the Senator/Qualcuno ha ucciso il Senatore," he replies in the same language. "They're looking for tourists travelling alone/Stanno cercando per i turisti che viaggiano da soli."

Kurt turns his back on the officers, mind racing. He hadn't even killed anyone yet and now there was a chance he could be arrested before he even had the chance to finish his mission. This was not how he thought his trip to Italy would be going.

"Excuse me, are you travelling alone?/Mi scusi, vuoi che viaggiano da soli?"

Kurt turns around at the question, pretending not to hear over the noise in the now crowded hotel lobby. The officer asks again, this time with his voice raised and Kurt is about to make up a lie about his partner being out on the town when the doors are pushed open yet again, this time to reveal a man dressed in a white button down shirt, brown hair that is practically gelled to his skull and a frantic look about him.

"Are you here alone?/Sei qui da solo?"

Something about the way the man is looking at him makes Kurt realize that he wasn't the only one on edge here. They make eye contact from across the room and it's with a barely there nod of his head that Kurt is moving across the room.

"No. We're together,/No. Siamo insieme," Kurt says, speaking in Italian again as he curls an arm around the man's waist. "Thank you for bringing him to me. I was getting worried./Grazie per aver portato lui a me. Mi è stato sempre preoccupato.."

As soon as the door to Kurt's hotel room is closed, they both lean up against it, listening for the possibility of the officers coming back.

"My name's Blaine," the man says quietly, extending a hand.

"Kurt."

They stare at each other for a few seconds before Blaine lets out a small laugh. "Drinks tonight? On me."

Kurt licks his lips, the gold flecks in Blaine's eyes almost captivating him. Any thought of the real reason he was in Italy far from his mind. At least for the moment. "Free drinks. I'll be there."

"To being in the right place at the right time," Kurt says, raising his glass and tapping it against Blaine's. They both take a gulp, and Kurt takes the moment to stand up. "You can drink, but can you dance?"

The music is a slow, pulsing bass. The kind that gets under Kurt's skin and makes him want to get up and feel the rhythm. Kurt tosses back the rest of his drink, eyes never leaving Blaine's as he throws the glass into the nearby fire. He moves easily to the beat, arms going over his head as he dances. Blaine joins him after he finishes his own drink, sliding in behind him and slipping his hands underneath the thin fabric of Kurt's shirt.

"Your skin is soft," Blaine murmurs into Kurt's ear. "I like it."

Kurt hums his approval, the alcohol making everything blend together. Blaine's fingers splay out on his abdomen, and Kurt can feel the calloused pads of his fingers as they move up and down. Kurt moves his hips back, smiling when Blaine moans and his hands slip down to grip Kurt's waist, thumbs pressing into his hip bones as they sway together to the beat.

Kurt loses track of the time, even the sound of thunder overhead can't distract him from the way Blaine fits so perfectly against him, as if he was a missing puzzle piece to Kurt's body. Rain begins to fall, extinguishing the fires that had been lit around them, but the music plays on.

Blaine turns Kurt around, warm palm sliding up the back of Kurt's shirt and pressing them closer together. Kurt bends back, collecting raindrops on his tongue before he lets Blaine pull him back up. He twines his fingers into the hair at the back of Blaine's neck, his hair loose and curly from the rain. Blaine's eyes follow Kurt's mouth, but Kurt keeps them a teasing distance apart, moving his hips in small circles, changing the rhythm whenever the song changes.

Eventually, the people surrounding them began to leave. Kurt wonders briefly at what point the music will be shut off, but that thought is quickly erased as Blaine brings them to a nearby picnic table and pulls Kurt into his lap. Blaine reaches for the bottle of vodka, taking a sip of it himself before turning it to Kurt's mouth,. Kurt stares into Blaine's eyes as he drank, watching when Blaine's gaze slips from his mouth to his throat that is working as he swallows the alcohol.

Blaine lowers the bottle to the table, reaching his hand to curve around Kurt's neck. His gaze is dark and hungry and makes something stir low in Kurt's stomach. Blaine's eyelashes flutter as they close, and Kurt leans down to connect their mouths.

He twists the front of Blaine's shirt as he explores his mouth; Blaine tastes like vodka and cinnamon and Kurt chases the taste, delighted when he's able to pull a moan from the back of Blaine's throat.

The rain is increasing at this point, and Kurt can feel the way his clothes are sticking to his body, can only imagine how hard it will be to get out of his jeans.

Blaine seems to be thinking along the same lines when he pulls back and rests their foreheads together. "How about we take this back to the hotel?"

Kurt twirls his knife, watching as Blaine pulls up the driveway and parks his car. He has an errand to run tonight, and as much as he knows lying to his husband is the only way to protect him, he really wishes he didn't have to do it so often.

"Good timing," Kurt says when Blaine walks in the front door. "Dinner will be ready in five minutes."

Blaine mumbles something about needing a drink and heads to the liquor cabinet.

"I got called into work tonight. Some model apparently gained five pounds and the entire line that's supposed to be modeled tomorrow could be at risk if I can't get everything to fit her," says Kurt as he sets the table.

Blaine sits down with a rum and coke and looks up at Kurt. "So you'll be out all night then?"

"Oh, probably. Don't wait up for me," Kurt answers.

They eat dinner in silence, the only sounds are the scraping of forks and the clink of their knives cutting through the chicken.

Blaine's phone rings towards the end of dinner and he excuses himself from the table. Kurt busies himself with cleaning up the plates and loading the dishwasher, humming to himself as he waits for Blaine to return.

"That was the theater,"  Blaine says, reaching for his coat. "There's been a break in, they need me to come down."

"Was anyone hurt?" Kurt asks, closing the dishwasher with his foot.

Blaine shakes his head as he does up his coat. "No, but I am the owner so I have to go in. Looks like we'll both be out late."

"Call me when you're on your way," Kurt passes Blaine his gloves as he walks by. "I'll either be here or stuck at work until tomorrow afternoon. I might sleep on the couch in my office to catch a few hours. Easier than coming home."

"Okay, see you tomorrow night," Blaine says, opening the front door. "I hope your model doesn't mind not breathing."

Kurt laughs softly, waving his hand to excuse Blaine. "Let me know what the damage is."

"I will. Have a good night, Kurt," Blaine closes the door behind him, and Kurt waits for the start of the engine and the flash of headlights in the window to make his move.

Kurt walks quickly to his bedroom and throws open the closet door, reaching up into one of the boxes and pulling a little. There are two tiny beeps before the closet door flips over to reveal a line of corsets and various BDSM equipment.

He reaches for the black and purple corset, sliding it over his head and zipping it up in the back. He pulls on tight, black leather pants and adjusts himself before grabbing the small black bag in the corner and throwing a trench coat over his outfit.

Kurt calls a cab, not wanting to take his own car and risk being recognized by one of his neighbours. He hops in the car and gives the driver the address. He applies his face make-up in the backseat, simple blue eyeliner and cover-up.

The cab pulls up to the curb and Kurt steps out, black leather Dr Martens just above his knee where the trench coat stops. He pays the cab driver extra and asks him to wait, saying he'll only be about ten minutes and he'll need a ride to work when he's done.

There's an ape of a man waiting outside when he gets to the door, and all he has to do is raise an eyebrow before the door opens and he's let inside. He walks through three more doors before he comes to a glass one. He knocks four times and the lock clicks open, allowing him to push through.

Kurt clears his throat and the man standing at the opposite side of the room drops to his knees immediately. He unzips his bag and pulls out a tiny black object, pushing a button and making a whip pop out of the end.

"I've heard you've been a bad boy," Kurt says. "I think it's time that you be punished."

Kurt walks towards the man, boots thumping on the floor as he gets closer and closer. "Close your eyes."

He pulls a black handkerchief from his pocket, wrapping it around the mans head and tying it at the back. He cracks the whip once, making the man jump.

Kurt drops his trenchcoat to the floor, ignoring the chill he feels when when the cool air hits his body.

"You've been a bad, bad boy," Kurt purrs, draping the whip over the man's shoulder. He curls his hand around the mans shoulders and up his neck, thumbs pressing gently before he snaps his neck

Kurt picks up his trenchcoat and does up the buttons. He heads over to the door and opens it, closing it quickly behind him.

Kurt smiles at the security guard and shrugs. "He's going to need a little while. He wanted a little bit more than the usual tonight."

The guards eyes widen and he makes sure the door is locked as Kurt walks away.

Kurt climbs back into the taxi and gives the driver the address to his work. As the driver pulls away, he looks over his shoulder to see men start piling out of the building with guns. He turns back to look out the front window, slipping on his black leather gloves with a small smile on his face.

When Kurt arrives inside the building, Santana is waiting for him.

"Sue has a new mission for you. It's a rogue agent. Your orders will be sent to your office," Santana says.

Kurt pinches the bridge of his nose, and accepts the file Santana hands him. "And what about you? What does she have you doing?"

Santana smiles. "I'm getting some well-earned vacation time with my girl. See you when I get back, Hummel. If, of course, you make it through the mission."

Kurt rolls his eyes. "When do I ever not make it through a mission?"

"There's a first time for everything, Hummel," Santana says as she walks away.

Kurt holds his badge up to the scanner and he waits for the elevator doors to slide open before he steps inside, allowing the doors to close behind him. He holds his hand up to the palm recognizer, just as the eye identifier drops down from the ceiling. They both beep at the same time, signifying acceptance into the building. The elevator doors open up again, this time to reveal an area where everyone has their own office.

A tiny brunette appears beside him almost immediately, talking a mile a minute. "Did Santana tell you that Sue is looking for you? I hope she did because there's a new mission for you and it's definitely a good one. This one might get you that promotion you've been looking for."

Kurt perks up a little. "It must be serious. Rachel, get me all the information you can on this new mission and have it sent to my office. Sue will only give me a half assed file. I need everything that you can get me as soon as possible."

"Of course. I'll have it sent up as soon as I can," Rachel says, before making a quick departure.

Kurt walks quickly to his office, trying to ignore the way he can feel everyone staring at him. It feels like they're waiting for something, as if they're waiting for him to do something. Kurt gets into his office, and closes the door. He finds the file already on his desk and he sits down. He takes a sip of his coffee, opens the file, and promptly spits it out all over his desk.

The file that Sue had sent him, the rogue agent that could make or break his career, also happens to be his husband Blaine Anderson.

"How often do you have sex?"

Blame looks at Kurt for a moment, and then looks down at his hands. "Is this another one to ten question?"

"If so, would zero be never? Or would one be never?" Kurt asks.

Emma writes  something in her notebook before she looks back up at the couple. "It's not a one to ten question. How often do you have sex?"

Blaine Anderson is a hard working, honest man. He owns a theater, helps support his husband, and is secretly an assassin.

Blaine slides off his wedding ring the second he pulls up outside the theater. Sebastian is waiting for him, talking on his cell phone while waving around a file.

"That it?" Blaine asks as he steps out of the car. He locks the car, holding his hand out for the file as they both walk towards the building.

"Sure is," Sebastian says, holding the door open to let Blaine step through. "Beiste said it was a very important mission. Rogue agent. Right up your alley."

Blaine takes his coffee from the receptionist, and heads over to the elevator. "Everything is right up my alley, Sebastian."

Sebastian smiles as they step into the elevator together. "You are a very talented agent, Blaine."

"Oh Sebastian, flattery will get you nowhere," Blaine says, pressing his thumb against the indicator.

Sebastian does the same on the other side of the elevator. "Yes well, it doesn't stop me from trying does it?"

The elevator begins to move sideways, pausing occasionally to scan the bodies inside. Finally, the elevator beeps and comes to a stop. The doors open to reveal white room with doors lining the walls.

"Before you open that file, there's another mission on your desk waiting for you. Enjoy poker night!" Sebastian says before walking away.

Blame pulls out his key card to scan it before the door beeps and lets him inside. He sits down at the desk putting the putting file in  his hand in the holder and then opening the file on his desk. He smiles when he sees what it is, closes it and then calls himself a cab.

Blaine pulls up to the club to find a line around the block. He steps out of the cab and walks straight to the bouncer, whispering a name in his ear before being let inside. He makes his way through the crowd to the back room, pushing open the door to find four poker players sitting at a table.

"I was just looking for the bathroom, sorry. Didn't mean to interrupt," Blaine lies, pulling at his bowtie. "Oh, are you guys playing poker? Mind if I join you?"

And then all look at each other before they all shake their heads. "Sorry man, private game."

Blaine holds up his wrist to reveal a Rolex covered in diamonds. "If I win, I get your money. If you win, you keep my watch. What do you say?"

"Sounds good,"  one man says. "You can play until the Shoe gets here. After that you'll be escorted out."

Blaine grabs a chair from beside the door and brings it over to the table. He flips it around and straddles it, before throwing his watch into the center of the table.

"Okay boys, are you ready to lose your money?" Blaine asks as he picks up his cards.

Two hours pass before the door opens to reveal an older man with a cowboy hat and cowboy boots. "What the hell is going on here? Are you looking for a job?"

"You are the job, Shoe," Blaine pulls the gun from its holster, shooting the man in the heart.

Immediately chaos erupts around him. Blaine puts his feet on the table and pushes himself back to slide across the floor, pulling out another gun and shooting all four men in quick succession.

He blows on the guns before replacing them in their holsters, and grabs his watch from the table. "Good game boys."

When Blaine arrives back at the theater, he finds a note stuck to his office door that says ‘Call Me!' in Sebastian's handwriting. Blaine shakes his head, rolling the paper into a ball and throwing it in the trash can. He looks down at his desk, the mission Beiste gave him still in the holder. He sits down in his chair and puts his feet up, flipping open the file to the first page.

Agent Kurt Hummel

Blaine's taken aback, never having heard of someone with his husband's name before. He reminds himself quickly that Kurt's last name was Smith before they got married and he flips the page. His feet fall to the floor with a loud thud when he finds a picture of his husband staring back at him.