Disclaimer: I don't own anything.

Chapter 11

How stupid can a person be?

Kurt hurried across the highway, angrily clutching the brown paper bag tighter. He just couldn't believe he was about to go back to this motelroom.

That he voluntarily went back to Anderson with his handcuffs.

It would have been so easy to get out. When Kurt had talked to the owner of the gas station, she had volunteered to lend him her car. Kurt could have paid her with Anderson's money, and he could have been miles away by now, back to his normal life in New York.

That's what an intelligent person would have done. Jump into that car and drive home.

But Kurt just couldn't get Blaine's pale face and his dried, cracked lips out of his head. Something must be wrong with him, why else did he care about that guy?

There was only one word for his acting: Empty-headed.

To be honest, Kurt needed to admit that Blaine Anderson appealed him, and he just couldn't resist it. That's why he was on his way with a bag full of isotonic drinks and a pack full of pretzel sticks and crackers to help out someone who would handcuff him before he could say: "How is it going?"

So stupid.

When Kurt entered the motelroom, Blaine was leaning against the wall and sleeping. He put down the bag and shook his shoulder softly. "Come on, Blaine.", he mumbled. "That's not the best place to sleep. I will help you to your bed."

"Mmmh." He opened his eyes and rubbed his chin. After a few failed attempts, he could get up with Kurt's help and walk to his bed where he slumped down. Confused, he blinked at Kurt. "Hey, I dreamt that you got away."

"Really?" He put off Blaine's shoes and socks before he went to the bathroom. When he returned, he held a glass with a colorful beverage in his hands.

"Here, drink that", Kurt told him after he had helped him sit up. The liquid ran down Blaine's dry throat, and he drank greedily until Kurt pulled the glass away.

"Slowly", he mumbled. "We don't want you to puke it out again." He forced Blaine to drink with small gulps until the glass was empty.

"Good", Blaine smiled faintly and looked at him expectantly. "More."

After three more glasses he needed to drink with small gulps as well, the thirst was sated. He lied down again. The last thing he heard was Blue talking about pretzel sticks. But then, Blaine fell into a groundless, black hole.

Kurt watched him sleep. He wasn't sure whether he should call a doctor or not. Probably, he wouldn't find one here anyway, but he was still worried.

Once per hour, Blaine woke up, thirsty, and Kurt gave him the isotonic drink. After that, he suddenly fell asleep again, as if he fainted or something. One moment, he was awake, the next, he slept again- that wasn't normal. And if he was awake, he was feeling cold even though it was hot inside.

At least, he was looking less and less pale and his lips didn't look so cracky. But his skin was still dry and he was trembling so Kurt tucked him in with more blankets. Much to his relief, Kurt noticed that Blaine started sweating a few hours later and he was awake long enough to complain about the blankets. Kurt made him eat some of the pretzel sticks, and when he fell asleep that time, it looked more normal. For the first time that day, Kurt was positive that he would be fine. Now was the perfect timing to leave.

But the prospect to take his things and think about what to do next made him tired. And to be honest, Kurt didn't want to leave. His safe and regulated life in New York didn't seem so appealing to him like it was a couple of days ago. In addition, he was sure that he would wake up before Blaine the next day, so he could as well relax now. Tomorrow would be a new day, he still had time.

So Kurt lied down next to Blaine, yawning. He was too tired to think now, he would worry about his problems tomorrow.

With these thoughts, Kurt closed his eyes and fell asleep.

…

If Larry Rocks could see that little douchebag that told him that the motel with Caiden and the bounty hunter was one hour and forty five minutes away, he would have beaten the crap out of him, broken both of his arms and kicked him in the crotch. While he drove through that small town to search for them, Rocks slowly started to understand why his dad raised his hand against him all those years ago. Maybe, raw violence was the only language dumb rugrats could understand.

That boy had taken him for a fool, and Larry hated it if people did that. And he never had a problem to beat the crap out of those who did.

But killing people? An entirely different matter. He never would have killed Stacy Gibbs only because of the money.

That bitch called him tall, dumb and ugly way too often.

But Caiden, on the other hand…Even though Rocks knew that it was necessary, he didn't like the thought to kill him. They didn't talk too much at the club, but Caiden always had time to smile at him or greet him nicely, or to tell him a short joke whenever they crossed ways.

He never made Rocks feel dumb or something like all the other strippers at the Lag.

And today, he had told him that he was intelligent. No one had ever told him that.

It was correct, he wasn't a complete idiot everyone seemed to think he was. Dumb people weren't able to dress stylishly, right?

When he needed to pee on his way, he had spotted Caiden at the viewpoint, so he tried knocking him over with his Red Rover, that's what intelligent people did. And he would have been successful if it wasn't for that stupid grandma.

Rocks froze when he parked his car at an old motel and it started raining. He needed to think of something, like smart people did, and he needed to do it fast.

Scowling, he got out of the car and went towards the motel. It was two am in the morning and when he rang the bell of the reception, a small man came over to the counter. "What a great weather", he said sarcastically as a greeting and yawned. "Do you want a single bedroom?"

"No, dude, I want some information."

Frowning, the man looked up.

Rocks was tired, annoyed and wanted to return to his home with palms and sun instead of this bullshit.

"Have you seen a brown-haired dude with another dark-haired dude?", he asked impatiently. He could also beat the information out of that guy, they were alone, and the boss wouldn't be pissed because he would never find out.

The receptionist shook his head. "No, Sir." He handed Rocks the register, and when he had a look at it, he couldn't spot their names either.

"You wouldn't lie to me, would you?", Rocks growled, leaning over the counter.

The receptionist gulped but didn't avoid his glance. "No, Sir."

Rocks cursed loudly before he sighed. "Screw it. I am fucking tired. Give me that room."

He would sleep over it and continue his search for Caiden the next day.

…

When Blaine woke up, the room was empty. He sat up jerkily. Where the hell was Blue? If he hadn't been dreaming, he had returned last night. But where was he now?

But then, he heard water rush in the bathroom, and he laid back down. Blue must be showering right now.

Slowly, he noticed that he needed to pee right now, a good sign because his body didn't need that much liquid anymore. He put the blanket aside and sat up, not sure whether he should go to the bathroom or let it be.

He probably had made a big mistake. Because he slowly started to wonder whether he had the right twin. Suddenly, his heart was beating too fast.

There were a lot of things that didn't add up.

Firstly, that guy's vocabulary didn't fit to him. Blue had told him he would tell people he wanted to use him for his unmoral business. Which stripper used words like unmoral business?

Not to mention that he was so much smarter than Blaine had assumed. Hell, he was far ahead of him considering using his brains.

And…he came back last night.

That was what Blaine had taken aback the most. When Blue had left him behind last night, he was not able to follow him, so he could have been two states away by now. And even if Blaine had been able to catch up with him eventually, it would have been too late.

So why didn't Blue just leave? Could it be that he had nothing to lose because the scanning of his fingerprints in San Francisco would prove it eventually?

Oh crap, Anderson.

That thought alone made his head hurt and it had nothing to do with the money he wouldn't get or that he had failed Artie once again. He remembered every word he had said, every measure because he had assumed that his captive was a not so bright stripper. A not so bright, permanently lying stripper.

Not a respectable fashion journalist.

Blaine slowly got up. Okay, if he really was wrong, he would apologize. But would that be enough? He doubted that. First, he would bring him home. He would…

Hold up.

What was he thinking?

Of course he had the right twin. Why else did he try to escape back then in New York? Or why else did his neighbor tell them he was Caiden? Okay, maybe it was wrong to think that all strippers were superficial and dumb, but that didn't mean that Blaine had been wrong.

He believed in his ability to judge and he would keep doing it.

When he opened the door of the bathroom, Blaine forgot what he had been thinking. He saw Blue shave his armpits carefully and his relief turned into anger.

"Hey", Blaine growled. "That's mine."

Kurt flinched and yelped quietly.

"Oh my gosh!" He turned around, glaring at Blaine angrily. "You scared me! Don't you know how to knock?"

"Give it to me" Blaine held out his hand and looked at the razor, but Kurt ignored him.

He groaned. "God, dammit, Blue, that was my last razor blade and now, I have to throw it away."

Kurt threw him a short glance over the shoulder. "As I can see, you are feeling better. You are as charming as usual." He dodged the attempts of Blaine trying to get his razor back. "Can you stop that? I will cut myself."

"Crap", Blaine cursed. "That's it, I can't use it anymore. I can as well shave with the lid of a can."

"Oh, that's so sad. I can't remember having heard an even sadder story in my life.", Kurt said with false remorse.

"Are you done now?", Blaine asked, annoyed. "I would like to pee now, I can't hold it back all day long, Blue."

"Gosh" He looked at Blaine, stunned. "You can't be serious!"

"What? If I have to go, I have to."

"Fine", Kurt sighed theatrically. "Make yourself at home, thankless guy." He was almost out when a voice stopped him.

"Blue."

"What now?" To hell with him, Kurt should have left if he had the opportunity.

"Thanks. For last night." His voice sounded slightly hoarse, and it sent cold shivers down Kurt's spine. "I don't know why you came back, but I am so glad you did. I feel better now, and I know it's only thanks to you." With these words, he slammed the door shut.

Dammit.

Kurt stared out of the window in front of him. Blaine was driving him crazy. He was so arrogant. So bigheaded. So annoying.

So exciting.

Screw that, Kurt had already made his choice. He only stayed because he was curious. Curious where that crazy trip was going next.

All those years, Kurt had thought that he wanted a safe life. A life without trouble, a life that was just normal.

But maybe, he had more in common with Caiden than he thought. Slowly, Kurt realized how he had suppressed and disclaimed an important part of himself. If he took things easy, it wasn't necessarily bad.

When Blaine came out of the bathroom, he looked pissed. "I was right. That blade is useless now. The armpits and the faces are not meant to share the same razors." He scowled when he looked at Kurt's armpits. A strip of paper with blood traces was on Blaine's jaw. "Just look at me! I am probably scarred for life."

"Poor thing!" Kurt's heart started beating faster but it didn't hinder him to cross the room. When he stopped in front of Blaine, they were so close that they could feel each other's breaths.

"Poor thing", Kurt repeated hoarsely, and the atmosphere tensed up. When he noticed how his voice sounded, he licked his lips nervously. Because for the first time, he really sounded like Caiden.

"It won't hurt anymore."

...

Blaine didn't move when Kurt pressed his soft lips onto the paper then on the spot under the cheek. In the next moment, Blaine pulled him closer and kissed him on the mouth.

As if a spark fell into a powder keg, desire exploded inside the two of them. Blaine opened his mouth, letting Blue explore everything inside him. His hands buried into Kurt's hair and he gripped him tighter as if he was afraid that he would leave.

Somehow, they made it to the bed, and Kurt moaned quietly when he started to undo the buttons on the bounty hunter's shirt.

"Gosh, I have never seen something so…great", Blaine moaned and kissed down his jawline.

"Be quiet", Kurt commanded, foggy-brained. "Shut up and kiss me."

His brown-golden eyes were looking at him sullenly, but he granted him his wish with pleasure.

When Blue started sucking on his neck, something formed in his throat, something that wanted to come out.

"I want more, Kurt. Give me more!", he moaned.

They fell back on the mattress, trying to catch their breaths before they continued.

A couple of minutes later, they were both lying on the bed, out of breath. Blaine was staring at the ceiling. He wanted to think that he was wrong, but he knew exactly who he was holding in his arms now. But his explanations didn't make sense anymore.

He was Kurt Hummel. Respectable fashion journalist of Vogue.

He didn't know how, but this time, Blaine really made a mistake, a big, big mistake, and he didn't mean having slept with that wholesome man next to him.

Dammit, he really had caught the wrong twin.