In hindsight, Blaine doesn’t know how Kurt didn’t figure it out from the moment he walked into Dalton to spy.

They’d been caught off guard.  Visitors weren’t a normal thing for their school and, often times, they were kept away.  Outsiders weren’t wanted – forbidden, even.

But Kurt had just walked in. 

Although, Blaine thinks, that may be how it happened in the first place.  It took something special to just walk into Dalton without alerting security or drawing mass amounts of attention to themselves.

Still, though, the fact that Kurt hadn’t noticed that Dalton was a school for assassins was something Blaine didn’t know.

They hadn’t been in their prep school mode like usual.  Sure, they always wore their uniforms as a precaution, but they hadn’t been acting like normal school boys wanting a solid education.

No, most of the students had their blazers slung over their shoulders, practice guns filled with foam bullets strapped to their belts, that dark gleam shining in each of their eyes.

And yet Kurt hadn’t noticed anything.

At least Blaine thought.

Dalton still had a glee club – they did need something else to do, to keep their minds off of the darker things that surrounded them from a day to day basis.

So Blaine had grabbed Kurt’s hand and sung to him, watching in misery as the boy’s eyes filled with hearts and how his own chest throbbed at the sight.  If there was anything he’d been taught at Dalton over the past years, it was to never, never let your heart control your impulses.  It was instinct and knowledge, but never heart.

Blaine listened as Kurt told him about his tormentor, his hands clenching around the edge of his chair as he tried to keep all thoughts about how many ways he could kill the guy, how he could do it so simple and easy, with no mess, no evidence, just a nice, calm, innocent death.

He’d given Kurt his number, not expecting the boy to use it.

But he had, and Blaine had comforted and helped him – controlling his anger towards Kurt’s tormentor and, really, if he pushed Blaine into a fence one more time he wasn’t going to know what was coming at him until Blaine was in his house in the middle of the night with a mask over his head and nothing but his hands and some untraceable liquid.  He fled, though, so all thoughts had vanished from Blaine’s mind.

But now, now Blaine stood at the entry of Dalton, his eyes wide as the headmaster shows Kurt around the school.  Kurt, who is wearing their precautionary uniform.  Kurt, who’s dad is hugging him goodbye and walking out of the entrance.  Kurt, who’s now listening to the headmaster with his face scrunched in confusion, his own eyes meeting Blaine’s.

Blaine can see the horror in Kurt’s eyes the headmaster fills him in, the terror and the fear and just the plain confusion as he looks at Blaine and sees what he actually is.

Blaine’s an assassin.  A trained killer.  And not the kind that works for the government.

No, there’s a reason their school is in the middle of Ohio.

Kurt’s face paled by the second, his eyes never leaving Blaine’s, pleading and begging for him to come over and tell him that this is all a joke, that it’s all a lie and that it’s actually the prep school that he originally thought it was.

Instead, Blaine walked over to Kurt and nodded once, swallowing the lump in his throat as he saw tears well in Kurt’s eyes as he shook his head.

Which is where Blaine finds himself now – next to the headmaster, ignoring the thumping in his chest at Kurt’s proximity.  “I’ll take it from here,” Blaine tells the headmaster with a stern, official voice.

The headmaster nods once, and Blaine grabs Kurt’s hand and drags him to his dorm room.

“No,” Kurt struggles to get away, his voice soft and choked and scared.  “Blaine, I – Tell me what’s going on, Blaine, now, please, I –”

“Shh,” Blaine hushes him gently, placing his finger on the scanner to open his dorm.  “Just wait until we’re in here, okay?”

Kurt goes silent, so Blaine assumes that he’s listening.

Once the door is shut behind them, Blaine gently leads Kurt to his bed and sits down next to him.

“This is all a joke, right?”

Blaine sighs again but shakes his head, reaching out and supporting Kurt when he starts to slump in on himself.  “No,” he murmurs.  “It’s – we’re a school for assassins.”

“How did they even let me transfer then?” Kurt asks, his voice desperate and scared, and Blaine just wants to hold him and cradle him until the world stops being cruel.

“I’m assuming it’s how you just kind of waltzed in here without anyone noticing,” Blaine replies after a few thoughtful moments.  “Except for me, of course.”

Kurt smiles a little at the last part, and Blaine’s glad that he’s still capable of that.  He’s watched so many boys come into Dalton and completely lose their smile, lose themselves, becoming almost like robotic killing machines.

Which they are trained to be, but Blaine’s learned that being personable and friendly and enjoying things sometimes takes the hurt away.

“Can you just – I don’t even…Blaine why am I here?”

Blaine takes a deep breath and falls back against his bed.

“Everyone’s here for a reason,” he says softly.  “Wes is here because robbed a bank at 12 and didn’t get caught.  Nick’s here because his parents are in the business.” He pauses, turning his head a little so that he’s facing Kurt.  “I’m here because my brother’s a teacher here, and my parents want nothing to do with me.”

Kurt gulps again, Blaine noting that he’s not looking Blaine in the eye.

“They find you, here,” Blaine goes on.  “If they here of something – take Wes for example.  He wasn’t caught by the authorities but the headmaster heard about him and how he was only 12 and robbed over 4 vaults in the bank and managed to get away.  He sought him out and offered him a spot here and, if he were to accept, every record of him existing would be demolished.”

Kurt stiffens, his eyes widening again as he looks at Blaine.  “Wait,” he says slowly.  “This is a school that’s against the government?”

Blaine nods once, his gaze cold.  “Assassins for the government are known as the FBI, M16, and even then their main goal isn’t to kill.”

Blaine feels Kurt shaking.  He sits up and scoots closer to the other boy, hoping that his gaze isn’t too hard.  “You get used to it,” he tells him in earnest.  “I promise.”

….

And Kurt does.

Buy his third week there, Blaine notes that Kurt is promising.  He’s certainly not lacking in the athletics part – he’s agile and flexible and he can do some wicked things when objects are in his hands.  And he’s intelligent – he can think quickly and he’s sharp and doesn’t crack under pressure.

Blaine’s put in charge of Kurt’s training.  He’s the student who’s been there the longest, the most experienced, so it’s only logical.

A month after Kurt’s transfer, Blaine takes Kurt out into the courtyard with a mock gun in his hand.  He guides Kurt to one end and plants him down, telling him to stay there until he gets further instructions.  Blaine walks to the other end opposite Kurt, spreads his arms wide, and tells Kurt to shoot him.

“What?” Kurt’s eyes widen, his hand shaking as he grips the gun.

“Shoot me,” Blaine says again.

“I – Blaine no, I – I can’t –”

“You have to,” Blaine replies.  “It’s a checkmark that’s supposed to be reached after a month of schooling here.”

Kurt gulps, his eyes wide and watery as he looks at Blaine.

“It’s foam,” Blaine assures him.  “Granted, it’s weighted foam, but it’s not going to hurt me.”

Kurt nods, his hand still shaking as he raises the gun.

Blaine closes his eyes and waits.

He hears the shot before he feels it, the small foam bullet bumping into his chest and falling.

He glances up and grins at Kurt, his face dropping once he sees the boy’s horrified expression, the gun shaking in his hands before it clatters to the ground.

“Shhh,” Blaine hushes him before gathering Kurt up in his arms, his hands soothing down his back, trying to get him to calm down.  “I’m fine, Kurt,” he whispers into his ear.  “See? I’m fine.  You didn’t hurt me.”

“I – I –” Kurt stutters and breaks off, sucking in a deep breath.

Blaine looks up at Kurt, at his shining, big, horrified blue eyes.  He lifts his hands up and gently cups Kurt’s face, forcing him to look him in the eyes.

“You didn’t hurt me,” he assures him again.  “You didn’t hurt me, Kurt.” 

Kurt freezes, his eyes still wide as he brings his own hand up to hold one of Blaine’s, which are still on Kurt’s face.

“I’m becoming a monster,” Kurt whispers, his warm breath blowing across Blaine’s face.

“No,” Blaine shakes his head, wiping a tear off of his cheek with his thumb.  “You’re not.  You’re anything but a monster.”

“I could have hurt you,” he chokes out, “ I could have – it could have been a real gun, you could have grabbed the wrong one and I could have –”

“Shhh.”

“Blaine I could have killed you and then what? I would have been here alone –”

“Kurt, please –” Blaine tries to argue, but Kurt keeps talking, his voice borderline hysterical.

“Blaine I wouldn’t have been able to forgive myself, I would have –”

Blaine groans and pulls Kurt’s face into his, pressing his lips softly against Kurt’s and smiling a little as he squeaks and shuts up.

“Please stop,” Blaine murmurs, his hands wrapping around the back of Kurt’s neck and playing with the small hairs.  “You can’t think like that.”

“ M’sorry,” Kurt mumbles against Blaine’s lips, his breath stuttering as he tilts his head for better access.  Blaine gasps into his mouth, one hand moving to Kurt’s waist to pull him closer, Kurt moaning as Blaine’s tongue asks for entrance.  “I just – it’s just a gun –”

“I know,” Blaine assures him, sliding his hand up the back of Kurt’s shirt and stroking his smooth skin.  “I know, Kurt, but trust me.  The first time is the worst.”

Kurt pulls away, but only far enough so that their lips are hardly touching.

“Okay,” he breathes, their lips brushing together.  “I trust you.”

You really shouldn’t.

…..

Blaine watches as Kurt becomes a top notch assassin. He hardly goes home anymore to visit his dad, claiming that keeping Dalton a secret is too difficult.

Which Blaine completely understands, of course.

They grow stronger, the teachers pairing them up for everything, telling them that they’re perfect partners for each other.

Which Blaine is certain they are.

They steal kisses in the corners, rumpling clothes and mussing hair until it’s unfixable.  Kurt often sneaks into Blaine’s room at night, the skills of being an assassin coming in handy for something completely personal for them both.

They grow, they love, and as their junior year draws to a close and their senior year begins, Blaine can’t really remember what life without Kurt was like.

They’re being sought after by assassin groups the first week of school.  Word has gotten out in the world about their partnership – whether from the teachers, or fellow students parents in the business, they don’t know.

But they’re wanted – highly wanted.

And when they’re offered their first job, Kurt squeals and throws himself into Blaine’s arms, kissing his face and his nose and his lips until his own are swollen and red and puffy.

Blaine’s eyes widen as he reads the case file, however.

“Kurt.”

Kurt hums a little as his lips move down the column of Blaine’s neck, his hand stroking up his stomach and under his shirt.

“Kurt you should see this.”

“Hm,” Kurt hums again as he trails his lips up, kissing Blaine in the corner of the mouth.  Blaine feels his heart flutter, the heat pooling lower in his body the closer Kurt gets and the more he does that with his mouth.  “I think that can wait till later, don’t you?”

Blaine groans as he shuts the file and grabs Kurt’s hips, flipping him over on the bed and crushing their lips and bodies together, all the while thinking no, it really can’t.

As their senses fade in exchange for heat and touch and lips on skin, the paper on the floor that reads Burt Hummel stays closed for another day.

…..

Blaine watches in concern as Kurt reads the file.

“Blaine, I….” He trails off and swallows, his eyes wide and teary in the way that Blaine hasn’t seen since the first time he shot a gun.  “We – I can’t –”

“I know,” Blaine murmurs, running a hand through his hair as he continues to pace.  “I just don’t know what to do about it.”

He knows he’s letting his heart get in the way.  All his years of training mean nothing to him, nothing compared to the beautiful, fragile boy sitting on his bed.

“We’ll figure something out,” he tells Kurt after a few moments.  “We will Kurt.”

Kurt takes a shaky breath but nods, closing his eyes and dropping his head in his lap.

Blaine sits next to him and grips his hands, not wanting to let go while the rest of everything they know falls apart.

…..

A few days later, they’re in Kurt’s car, driving as fast as they can without drawing attention to themselves.

They’re bags are packed, no traces of where they went or why they left to be found anywhere at Dalton.

“I can’t believe Cooper helped us,” Kurt whispered, because whispering honestly just seemed like the best option right now.

“He’s always hated this for me,” Blaine replies as he takes a sharp turn.  “I always knew that if I wanted an escape, he’d give me one.”

Kurt nods and grips Blaine’s hand across the console.  His hand is still shaking; it hasn’t stopped shaking since he read the file.

They pull up to the Hummel house nod at each other before quickly getting out of the car and rushing up to the door, Kurt pulling out his key and fumbling for a moment before pulling himself together and unlocking the door.

“You get Finn and Carole,” he tells Blaine, who nods.  “And I’ll get dad.”

They set off, Blaine quickly finding Carole in the kitchen and telling her that yes it is a beautiful day and yes it’s really good to see her but she really should get Finn and go pack a few things in a bag, it’s really important and they need to go as soon as possible and that they’ll explain everything on the way.

Once he has Finn and Carole in the car, he hops in the driver’s seat and watches as Kurt leads his dad out, his expression cold and stony in a way that Blaine knows is his working face.  He grabs Kurt’s hand and squeezes once he’s in the car, quickly – but with well-trained experience – pulling out of the driveway and speeding down the street.

“Woah, kid,” he hears Burt say from the backseat.  “You don’t always drive like this, do you?”

He’s deflecting, and Blaine knows it, and he knows that Kurt knows it too.

“It’s fine, Dad,” Kurt says.  “I trust him.”

No one should trust him.

None of them are trustworthy.

We’re trained killers.  We’re not trustworthy, Kurt.

But, despite all of these thoughts, Blaine knows that now, in this moment, it’s the most trustworthy he’s ever been.

Kurt throws Burt’s file at him as they continue to speed down the road, his one hand still gripping Blaine’s as the other one clings to the handle to make the sharp turns a little easier on himself.

Blaine watches in the rearview mirror as Burt reads the file, watching as his eyes widen at the part about his hit order.

“What – how did you guys get this?”

Blaine glances at Kurt, and he nods.

And then they tell Burt, Carole, and Finn everything.

…..

They send them off to Europe at the nearest airport with new identities, passports, paperwork.

Once they get there, the three members of Kurt’s family will be completely different people.

Blaine watches as Kurt hugs his dad, telling him he loves him and that he’s sorry for keeping it a secret.  He watches as Burt cries when Kurt says he’ll probably never see him again, advising that he should also change his hair color, get some colored contacts, and grow some facial hair.

Burt catches Blaine’s eye before boarding the plane, the faint glow in it telling Blaine everything he needs to know.

Take care of my boy.  I’m leaving him with you.  I’m trusting you.

Blaine isn’t trustworthy.

But when it comes to Kurt, and Kurt’s wellbeing, and Kurt’s safety, he thinks that he couldn’t be anything but trustworthy.