AN: So I started college and it's damn amazing but I literally have no free time again. s o b. Easter break has freed me up a little so I thought 'fuck it, I'm becoming a hermit and finishing this thing.'

and it's done.

yayyyyyyyyyy.

Also, poorly written smut warning!

Finn Hudson had barely slept a total of four hours since he was woken early Sunday morning by work, calling him into an investigation. Sunday's were his day off. He'd stayed out late the evening before, Kurt and Blaine's engagement running late, then drinks with some of the old gang from Glee club. He really wasn't in the mood for it. But if he was being called in on a Sunday it was serious. So he pulled himself out of bed, fixed himself an extra strong espresso, and headed in. Pulling up in his squad car, he never expected there to be a murder scene before him. He never expected to it be Sam Evans' murder scene.

Finn had seen the body. He'd gagged, and shed his tears in private later on. He'd delivered the bad news to the families, to their friends. Blaine had run past the house and he'd had to tell him the truth. He couldn't lie to someone he trusted.

An now he was working himself to death for Sam. So that the bastard who had killed him could be put behind bars. Blaine had suggested that he cross checked within other states for any 'pink glitter murders'. So far nothing. Wednesday slowly ticked over to Thursday as he took another long drain of his coffee mug, when suddenly something caught his eye. A new article posted from the Chicago Times, a news story covered on the third page in print. The online version of the paper was already available and Finn quickly clicked onto the page. FATHER OF TWO, MYSTERIOUS MURDERED INSIDE OWN HOME. Finn had read so many murder articles over the last few days it didn't see that out of place. Still, he read on.

Wednesday morning, the body of a Chicago architect was discovered inside his home apartment. Sebastian Smythe, father of two, was brutally murdered early Wednesday morning, leaving a mystery that police have been unable to solve. Smythe, a local gay rights activist with husband James, was a supported member of the community. The couple's youngest daughter was discovered hiding inside one of the bedrooms of the apartment, away from the horror that was the crime scene. Authorities have released the witness' statement, describing the offender as 'male, roughly 6ft, and very pale, with light brown hair. Coming from money, well-tailored clothing.' The peculiar event was that large quantities of pink glitter were found at the scene, covering the victim and surroundings. Mr Smythe and eldest daughter were out of the state for medical reasons and have released no comment regarding the tragedy. Police state that this is an undergoing investigation and urge any persons who may have information to come forward.

Finn stared at the screen of his computer for a total of 30 seconds. His mind was trying to get around it. This was it. This was his lead. He rushed away from his desk and pulled out his list of contact numbers, quickly finding the Chicago Police Department. Dialling the number quickly and messily he lifted his phone to his ear and waited for an answer. On the second tone there was a woman who answered on the other line in a thick accent. "Hello, Chicago Police Department, how may I help you?"

"Hi, this is Sergeant Finn Hudson of Lima Police, Ohio," Finn started pacing in his office. "And I have some information regarding the murder of Sebastian Smythe that you may find comes in handy."
Sebastian Smythe. Finn couldn't help but feel the familiarity of the name roll of his tongue as he spoke to the woman on the other line. "Yes, I don't think this glitter murder is a one off thing."

Kurt had slept through the rest of Wednesday and was now slowly waking up Thursday morning. The bright, warm light was creeping through the windows, shining fresh on Kurt's face. He grinned as he half leaped from bed, padding lightly to the bathroom where he splashed water on his face and looked at his reflection in the mirror. He opened the cabinet behind the mirror and took out his pill bottle. Shaking out two tiny blue-green capsules, he placed the bottle back inside and closed the door. From the corner of Kurt's eye, he noticed a younger, innocent boy staring back at him with sad crystal eyes. Kurt glared darkly back, throwing back the pills, followed by a shot of water. The boy disappeared like he always did and Kurt smiled to himself.

Kurt wandered downstairs, faintly wondering where Blaine had got to. The clock read 9:32am, definitely too late for him to be running. He'd walked past his office. No sound of frantic fingers on keys. Just silence. Kurt began to make himself a pot of coffee. Their espresso machine sat untouched. Frowning, Kurt noticed the note sitting on the counter. It was from Blaine. Quickly he read over the words. Bullshit, Kurt thought. Bullshit your sister is in the hospital. Why would you lie?

At 6:32am, Blaine was waking, slowly and groggily. It took him a moment to place where he was, and why there was an unfamiliar body stirring next to him. He looked over to see Rachel, sliding into a pair of thin boxers and pulling a light cotton t-shirt over her naked chest. Blaine reached his arm to touch her. She shrugged off his touch. "I have to get ready for work Blaine." Rachel said standing to leave the room. Blaine sighed, sitting up in the bed. He'd travelled to L.A only to talk, to say goodbye to Rachel and to Charlie. And he'd ended up reliving the affair that got him into this mess seven years ago. She wasn't even a habit anymore. She was an addiction, and he'd just succumbed to it. Blaine heard the sound of the shower going in the attaching bathroom, and decided that it was his cue to get up too. Shoving back the blankets he stood, searching for his clothing from the previous evening. Pulling on a pair of loose slacks and a button down he ran his fingers through his loose curls and rubbed at his eyes. The water shut off and Rachel appeared, wrapped in a thick white towel, her hair wet and dripping.
"Blaine, go down and eat some breakfast with Charlie. I need to get ready." Rachel's voice was quiet, almost ashamed. Blaine nodded and did as she asked.

As soon as Rachel saw the door of her bedroom close she fell to her knees, breaking down completely. She was so stupid. She let Blaine into her home, into her bed. He promised this was going to be the last she heard of him. He'd warned her, that Kurt could never find out about anything. But he'd held her, loved her, just like the old days of college where she was carefree and childish. Everything was different now. And that old spark had just made things even more complicated.

It took Kurt 25 minutes on Blaine's office computer to discover where he'd really gone.
Credit card trails, phone calls, booked flights. Really, Blaine knew better than to leave those lying around.
He'd booked a flight to Los Angeles. Kurt wasn't completely sure what that meant.
A number, something unfamiliar. Kurt quickly pulled out his cell and dialled. It rang straight to voice mail. "Hi, you've tried to reach Frances Young, Talent Agent. Sorry, I'm not available right now, so leave your name and number and I'll get back to you." He slammed his thumb over the 'end call' button.
"Frances Young, we meet again," Kurt said angrily. Blaine must have gone to meet Rachel. And Rachel's agent had told him where to go. So he'd fled. For what though? Kurt wasn't sure.
And it made him even angrier.

Rachel appeared downstairs just after 7 to find Blaine fixing Charlie banana pancakes for breakfast. Charlie was giggling sweetly and something Blaine was saying, both of them having the biggest, identical grins on their faces. It was crazy how alike the two were. Charlie had always been such a constant reminder of Blaine, every time she looked into her young face. Rachel watched from the kitchen hallway as they ate their breakfasts, a small pile of pancakes set aside for her too. She recollected her thoughts and strode into the kitchen the best fake smile she could muster plastered on her face.

"Hey guys, what's going on?" she asked brightly. Charlie's face was covered in syrup and she grinned up at her mother.

"Blaine made us all pancakes Mommy! They're so good!" Rachel grabbed a napkin off the counter and came to wipe the mess off Charlie's cheeks.

"Well, I'm glad you like them sweetie. Do I get any of these delicious sounding pancakes then?"

"There's a plate on the counter for you Rach," Blaine said, chewing his own slowly. Rachel dodged his gaze and muttered a word of thanks.

Rachel sat down with them all and began to eat. Blaine and Charlie began chatting about something random and childish and Rachel watched as the two simply clicked; an effortless relationship. Rachel smiled at them, her eyes sad. Blaine would have made an excellent father.

Finn had taken the first flight he could to Chicago. His late night conversation had proved worthwhile, and after a quick nap on the plane, he was ready to get back to work. Finn had met with the Police Chief in Chicago, been given the run down on the Smythe murder. Finn had insisted on visiting the crime scene for himself, and had been escorted there in a dark sedan. Stepping outside of the apartment building, he followed officers up the flights of stairs and to the floor where the apartment was. Finn braced himself for what he found inside.

Stepping inside the room was like stepping into a slaughterhouse. The white carpets were soaked red, heavier in some areas than others. Finn flinched slightly, being a small town cop; he never saw many crime scenes like this. He wasn't exactly accustomed to it yet. Areas were taped off by the yellow police tape, and the chair where the body had been found was perfectly in place just as it has been. Only the body had been moved.

"Sergeant Hudson," A burly dark skinned man spoke from the other side of the room. "I'm Sergeant Grey," he stepped carefully around the tape and held out a strong hand for Finn to shake.

"Grey," Finn answered with a nod of respect. "So this is it, huh."

"Yup, this is what we've got. We've had forensics in for prints and other DNA sources, and so far they've come up with nothing. The place has been wiped clean. The security tapes are blank too. This guy knew what he was doing."

Finn strolled around the apartment, careful not trip over anything. "And you're thinking the motive is…?"

"We believe that this was revenge or something along those lines. It was well thought out, and the victim was obviously tortured. We've spoken to the husband and friends, and the victim had no known enemies."

Finn's eyes glanced over the walls. Photo frames of the family were scattered around. Two young girls at the beach, the same girls with their fathers at the park. Two men on their wedding day. A little girl in a hospital bed with a younger girl snuggled next to her. A group of boys in matching uniforms holding a large golden trophy, the banner reading '2011 NORTH-WESTERN OHIO SHOW CHOIR SECTIONALS' above their heads. Finn scanned the faces. Each oddly familiar. The blazers. The smiles. His eyes landed on the younger face of the man who had been murdered just days ago. Sebastian Smythe. A Warbler. Now he remembered.

"Sergeant Hudson?" Grey stood questioning his distant gaze. Finn snapped back to attention.

"Grey, I want your forensic team to run prints on this photo frame," Finn said pointing out the Warblers. "I want to know about it the second the results are available.

Kurt tried the number of Frances Young for another time. Finally, he got an answer.
"Hello, Frances Young, Talent Agent, speaking. How may I help you?" The slightly familiar voice of the woman replied.
"Hi, my name is Mike Chang, I'm an old friend of Rachel Berry's from high school. I run a very successful dance school called The Change Dance Force with my wife here is Ohio. Rachel and I were very close in high school and I was wondering if you would be able to give me her contact details? I'd like to get in touch and perhaps meet with her to discuss a possible meet with some of my students interested in going into the business professionally. And also I'd like to catch up for old time's sake."

"Hi, Mr Chang. Rachel has told me about you! I'm sure she'd love that. If you could just grab a pen and I'll tell you her details and you can talk to her about a meeting. Rachel has a soft spot for little dancer's, as her daughter is a little talent in herself."

"Oh she had a daughter? I haven't seen her in so long, I would have never have guessed? How old is she?"

"Turning seven in a few months. Cutest little angel she is. Sweet little chocolate curls and bright hazel eyes. You'll have to meet her Mike, she's gorgeous."

Kurt smiled to himself. "Oh, I'd kill to meet her."

Frances Young may have been able to be trusted with a secret such as Charlie, but as soon as the chance to gossip to an 'old friend' of Rachel's arrived, she jumped at it.
She could hold her tongue when she had to.
But sometimes it nearly killed her.

Blaine had driven Charlie to school that morning, leaving Rachel with a free hour or two to get clear her head. She packed away the mess of the kitchen, Blaine's cooking adventures scattered across the counters. She made Charlie's bed, and vacuumed the living room. She didn't hear the door close over the hum of the machine. Wordlessly she worked, head spinning with thoughts about Blaine, about Charlie, about her work. Apparently it was dangerous to go back to Ohio. Blaine wouldn't tell her why. Just that it was. She fumed as she attacked the expensive carpet with the sucking nozzle, when she felt a hand grab at her shoulders. Letting out a shriek of surprise she whipped around, swinging the vacuum as a weapon against the intruder. Blaine stood before her now, a look of confusion on his face and a red mark forming on his left cheek. "Ouch," he mustered sarcastically.

Rachel sighed frustrated, bending to switch off the machine. "So why are you back here? I thought you were leaving after you dropped Charlie off."

"I needed to see you one last time Rachel." Blaine's eyes were torn as he looked across at her. "I'm so sorry. I really am. I still don't think you get it. I've put you and Charlie in so much danger and you don't even realise it. I seriously cannot press enough how important it is that you don't come back to Ohio, and that you don't try to contact me again. I'm sorry I put you through so much Rach. I'm sorry I left you alone. I'm sorry I used you. I'm sorry about last night. I'm sorry I wasn't there for either of you, and I'm so sorry I can't start to be now. I just wanted to make that clear." Blaine stood awkwardly, his eyes glassy. Rachel didn't realise she'd been crying until she tried to speak. A moment later he turned to leave.

"Thank you Blaine." She sniffed.

"For what?" he asked turning back to her.

"For everything you just apologised for."

In that moment Rachel wished with all her heart that Blaine would run over to her, capture her in his arms and hold her and kiss her, and make all the bad things he'd mentioned small and far away. She wished they could live together, just her, him and their daughter, in the country maybe, away from the cameras and the fame. Away from the rush of life. Somewhere calm, peaceful. Forgiving.

But Blaine turned, gazing one last time at the tiny brunette, and walked away. She listened as she heard the heavy jam of the front door, and the engine of his cheap rented car's start and pull out of the drive. She listened as Blaine walked out of her life forever.

Blaine arrived back late from flight home. He'd parked his car in the lot of at the airport. As he recovered his keys from his things and loaded his bags into the trunk, he was too tired to notice the pale blue pickup truck parked a few spaces down. Finn Hudson's truck sat unnoticed as Blaine drove away, heading back to Lima as quickly as he could.

Kurt had had the entire day to muse over the new lot of information that darling Frances had given him. A kid, huh. That must have been the little girl that Kurt had seen with Rachel at the engagement last week. But who was the father? Seven in a few months… Seven or so years ago they were in College – Junior Year. No, it couldn't be.

It couldn't have been Blaine's kid, could it?

The realisation of it all dawned on him. "You fucking little whore!" Kurt screamed to the silence of the house. The reason Rachel had run all those years ago, finally made sense. She was fucking pregnant with Blaine's fuck child.

"How fucking dare you." He said to air. "You are fucking mine."

Blaine arrived home to a dark house. At first, he'd thought that Kurt was asleep. He wasn't expecting him back anyway, so Blaine wasn't fussed. He quietly slipped inside, completely knackered, rolling his suitcase carefully behind him.

"Welcome home Blaine." A voice chimed from the darkness. The voice was lower than usual. It sent a nervous shiver down Blaine's spine.

"Kurt?" Blaine asked flicking the hall light on. The light buzzed, slowly illuminating the hall in an artificial glow. Kurt sat on a chair at the end of the hall, back straight and tall, legs crossed. His posture perfect, his clothes dark and elegant. Blaine stiffened. He was wearing his hunting clothes.

"Honey, you really should be in bed, it's late," Blaine started, taking a cautious step toward him. Kurt's eyes glared up dangerously at him, Blaine stopping instantly.

"Oh I'm aware of the hour. I just missed you something terrible." Blaine swallowed. "I wanted to welcome you home special."

Kurt stood, and strode over to his startled fiancée. Tugging him by the hand, Kurt led him back to the chair at the end of the hall, pushing him a little too forcefully down on the wood. Kurt took Blaine's worried face in his hands, kissing his lips precisely. Blaine saw the dark lust in Kurt's eyes as he glared down from his position of power, slowly bending to his knees before Blaine. Kurt's slender fingers traced over his chest, down to his belt buckle. Blaine shivered once again, not from nerves, but from his fiancée's touch, Kurt coming to palm over the front of his pants.

"Kurt this really isn't necessary," Blaine protested as Kurt continued to unfasten his belt and undo his pants. Kurt lowered his mouth to kiss over the exposed skin. "Kurt-"

"No underwear Blaine, you're practically begging for it," Kurt purred darkly against his skin. Blaine felt the twitch of his hardening cock as Kurt tried to shimmy him out of his pants.

"Kurt, baby, it's okay, I'd really be happy with a snuggle and a shower," Blaine tried as he felt Kurt's hand take him, squeezing gently.

"Blaine, it's fine, I really don't mind," Blaine's head fell back with a moan as Kurt began to pump his cock. "See, you love it Blaine, being under my control."

Blaine was lost in the feeling of Kurt around him, Kurt's lips and tongue now kissing and licking over him. "Fuck," Blaine muttered as he looked down to watch as Kurt took all of him between his lips, crystal eyes glaring up at him. Blaine watched as Kurt bobbed, inhaling each time he felt his cock brush against the back of Kurt's throat. Blaine's fists clenched and he squeezed his eyes shut, letting Kurt bring him this guilty pleasure. Kurt began to quicken his pace, tongue sliding over Blaine hotly, causing Blaine to let out another moan. "Fuck, Kurt, stop, stop!" Blaine cried abruptly.

A wet smack of lips and salvia sounded as Kurt surfaced. "What Blaine. Aren't I good enough for you anymore?"

Blaine looked down at him, breathing slightly heavier than normal. "No, why would you say that?"

"I think you'd rather bury you cock in some filthy slut's pussy."

"Kurt, what the fuck are you saying-"

Kurt snarled, Blaine's eyes widening in frightful surprise. Kurt's hands traced over skin and clothing, innocently. "Maybe if I'm not good enough for you I should just put my mouth to good use," Kurt's fingers came back to wrap around Blaine's exposed member, still wet from Kurt's lips, "and bite this fucking thing off," Kurt's hand squeezed tightly, tugging forcefully, causing Blaine a yelp of pain. Kurt didn't let go until the begging words escaped Blaine's lips.

"Good. Now shut the fuck up, while I suck your dick." Blaine whimpered quietly as Kurt went back to his job, slamming his throat roughly against Blaine, until Blaine couldn't take it anymore and succumbed, coming shakily. Kurt slid up from the floor, his nose brushing over Blaine's sweaty curly and skin. He kissed Blaine harshly, the taste of himself always odd against his lips.

"Good boy," Kurt said sweeping the hair off of Blaine's face. "Now if I ever find out that you have even thought about Rachel Berry or that bastard kid of yours, I really will bite it off, so you can never fuck that whore again."

Blaine nodded, tears threatening to leak from his eyes as Kurt kissed him one last time, biting down on his bottom lip a little too fiercely, before standing and disappearing into the dark house.

An hour or so later, Blaine was asleep in their bed, no sign of worry on his resting face. Kurt lay awake in the darkness, watching as the first rays of light began to brighten the horizon, lightening blue light filtering through the curtains. Kurt smiled as he rose from the bed, a new plan forming in his mind.

Kurt Hummel reached for his phone, dialling a number he'd committed to memory a few nights ago. After a few rings a groggy, disorientated voice answered. "Hello?"
Kurt breathed calmly into the phone. The voice on the other end began to sound annoyed. "Hello, who is this? Do you have any idea what time this is? Or even who you're calling?"

Kurt answered her question almost instantly. "I know who you are, Rachel Berry. I also would place a bet that you can't figure out who I am. Even though we know each other quite well." The woman on the other end of the phone was scared silent. Kurt smiled. "I just wanted to tell you this. I know who the baby daddy is of the kid you're hiding, you filthy fucking whore. And I'm not entirely sure who I'm going to kill first. You, him... the girl? I'll get back to you." Kurt hung up.

Gathering the things he needed, dressing quickly, he placed a chaste kiss on Blaine's sleeping forehead before slipping out of the door. Passing his reflection in the hallway mirror he caught the image of the saddened young boy with the crystal eyes following him. He ignored it; half tempted to throw the umbrella stand into the glass. But he didn't. And then he slipped out the door silently and was gone.

Finn Hudson was pacing the Police Headquarters in Chicago, Styrofoam coffee cup in hand, filled with the bitter liquid. The prints were due make any minute now, and then Finn would know for sure.

He'd already got the set he needed to cross reference with. Taken from the old photo of their family that he'd given Finn, the same one that he kept in his wallet at all times.

If Finn was correct in his assumption… He didn't know what he was going to do just yet.

"Sergeant Hudson?" A kind voiced black woman said from the hallway. Finn looked up, expectantly. "The lab results are back."

"Thank you ma'am." Finn took the envelope away from her, laid out the set he'd required already, before taking a deep breath and tearing open the seal. He laid out the new set of finger prints against the current set in front of him. He glared. Comparing the two. The same swirl on the thumbs, the weird little scratch on the tip. He checked again. And doubled checked again. He kept checking until he was sure he couldn't deny it any further.

Finn kicked over the chair the he was neglecting, swearing loudly. He wiped the mist from his eyes and took a minute to calm down.

The finger prints belonged to Kurt Hummel.
Sergeant Finn Hudson had just found the evidence he needed to catch a killer.
But when the killer is your own brother, what do you?
Do you condemn, or be damned?

AN: The last line is a Les Mis reference and idgaf because the reason I have no free time is because of that effin musical.

sighhh don't you love it when porn is an important plot point? that's why i love wicked so much.