Shoot to Kill

The mechanical tone that came out of his phone woke Kurt up, his eyes snapping open way to slowly for someone of his profession. To be honest, he stumbled into it. He had been approached halfway through college by an older guy asking him if he wanted to make some money and Kurt had assumed he was being pervy and had hit him (it was drastic but then again, Kurt had been drunk) and it went downhill from there.

He rolled over, feeling something crinkle under him, and grabbed his phone to shut the horrendous sound off. He found it easier to wake up in the morning if his alarm wasn't a song or something he could enjoy, but instead something that made him want to throw his phone against the wall. Which he did, often actually. He had great insurance for his phone.

When he stood up, he realized he had fallen asleep with the target folder under him. He winced, trying not to analyze what that could mean, nor the snippets of dreams he was starting to recall, and grabbed some clothes to take a shower. He spent the entire shower thinking over his plans for today. He had laid out his first day, hopefully his only day, in New York around casually bumping into Anderson and hopefully taking care of business somewhere discreet.

Of course this completely depended on Anderson's cooperation. Now that Kurt knew he was gay, and how did he miss that piece of information every time he went over the packet, it might be easier. But in the shower Kurt had given himself a stern talking to, telling himself that this would have to be one assignment that he would not sleep with. He was already physically attracted to the target and that alone probably meant Kurt should have called up Carlson for a backup, but if he got attached? The shit would hit the fan so spectacularly that it would probably spray New York and Ohio with disaster.

Showered and dressed, fashionable enough to make a statement and casual enough to be comfortable with making a quick getaway, Kurt stashed his equipment in his messenger bag and slung it over his shoulder. He ran over the information on himself, since he had already memorized Anderson's info, before leaving the apartment.

His first stop would be a coffee shop because otherwise he wouldn't make it through the day, and then he would start his watching. There was a list in his bag of places that Anderson often frequented during the day, his day to day schedule on the other side of the paper, that he had memorized but kept with him just in case. But still, his plan was for coffee and then recon. It was an important part of the day.

The first coffee shop he came upon was a little less high end than he was used to (okay, the Lima Bean wasn't high end, but it looked a lot nicer than the Coffee Spoon), but he didn't care at that point. He walked in, getting a feel for the atmosphere before heading up to the counter and ordering his coffee. Once it was handed to him, Kurt made his way to a seat near the window and sipped it casually, pretending to watch the hustle and bustle in the street but actually, his mind was on the mission.

He was so wrapped up in planning how he should go about his day that he did not notice when someone moved to stand next to him. When he turned around to ask the person what they wanted, he nearly swallowed his tongue. Because damn it all if Blaine Anderson wasn't standing beside him with a smile.

"Sorry, there aren't any other tables open. Do you mind?" The way he was standing, leaning a little to the left and shifting his weight on his feet, said that he didn't expect Kurt to allow him to sit, but instead Kurt just shook his head and made a motion for the other man to sit down.

What a terrible spy he was. The person he is in this city to kill walks into the coffee shop that he is in and approaches him without Kurt even noticing. He got this job because he had a pretty face, because he definitely didn't get it for being observant. Feeling a bit like an idiot, and knowing that this might be his only chance to actually engage the other man in a conversation to get his job done, Kurt leaned forward.

"Don't mind at all, just enjoying the bustle I guess." If there was anything Kurt was good at, it was faking emotions. He could fake confidence and pride and happiness and sadness and anger, all at the drop of a hat. It was a pity that his talents were wasted on the dead, or the soon to be dead really, because he was made for the stage. So the emotion he piled on with his words was a cross between awe and being overwhelmed. Anderson smiled, a knowing smile that said he had been there.

"It can get like that. New to the area I guess?" Kurt's next lines were rehearsed enough in other missions that they came out as a second nature.

"That easy to tell? I'm a musician. Came here to try to get my name out there I guess. It's funny, they never tell you how hard it's going to be." Kurt shrugged a bit, hoping that it wasn't too over the top, and chanced a coy glance at his new companion. Anderson was looking thoughtful, his fingers tapping to his bottom lip while he stared down at his own coffee cup, before looking back up and smiling.

"I have an idea. I work at this bar a few nights a week. Tomorrow is our weekly amateur night. It's a sign up thing, but I always reserve a place. I can give it to you. How's that sound?"

Kurt was struck by how strange his target was. He had just met Kurt and he was offering him his place in some amateur singing night where he worked. He seemed genuinely nice, not putting up a front. But what did Kurt know, since he assumed that he seemed like a nice guy that was just looking for a break and really he was a guy there to kill someone. Not just any someone though, the very same someone that was now writing something on a napkin. Where did he pull that pen from? Goodness Kurt needed to pay more attention.

He watched Anderson scrawl something over the napkin and started to scold himself, thinking that maybe he needed to pay less attention to his target's hands and more attention to the task at hand. This was going to get ridiculous.

"There. That's the address and the name of the bar, the time to be there. And my cell number, in case you get lost or... or you just want to talk. I'm Blaine by the way." Kurt stared at the hand that Anderson was holding out for probably a second too long but he reached up and grabbed it with his own, giving it a light shake and offering a reassuring grin.

"Thanks. That's really... this is great. Thank you. I'm Henry." Anderson's head cocked to the side and he laughed.

"Funny. You don't really look like a Henry. But if you text me, just tell me who it is. I have a habit of not paying attention to texts though, so you might want to just call me." Kurt smiled, trying to figure out of his target was flirting with him or if it was just his personality that made him act like a giggly teen girl.

"I have a feeling I'll be calling you soon." Suddenly deciding to up the stakes just a bit, because Kurt was always one to play with fire, he winked flirtatiously and stood up from the table, grabbing the napkin and making a show of folding it and sliding it into his back pocket as he walked off, his messenger bag slung over his arm.

And Kurt was very happy to say that Anderson not only watched him walk away, but he visibly gulped. If that wasn't something for the ego, he wasn't sure what was.

A/N: I am going to be making mild references to canon. Like the bad spying and something that will be seen in the next chapter. Ode to canon, I guess. I'm still ever so grateful for the awesomeness that is every single one of you. Honestly, you guys are awesome. Thank you.

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