Shoot to Kill

Kurt spent the rest of the day just walking around the city, enjoying the sights and sounds and smells (more of the first two, less of the latter) that New York had to offer. It bothered him that the only times he had come to New York had been for assignments, never on his own time. There was so much that he would love to see but he had a job to do.

Not that he really planned on staying with Carlson for the rest of his life. When he had first signed up for this, he had signed a gag order that basically said that if he ever told anyone what he did or who he worked for, they were within rights to kill anyone and everyone that he knew. But really, who would believe him if he did tell them what he did? Could he see his parents or brother just accepting that Kurt was a hitman without some sort of solid proof? No, not at all.

It was also taking a lot of self restraint to keep Kurt from tossing his cell phone into traffic. He was getting texts every hour from Stanley, making small talk and asking him how he was enjoying the city, if he had given any thought to a plan for meeting the target.

And the target himself had been on Kurt's mind a bit since he had left the coffee shop. To give himself credit, Kurt had waited until he was well out of sight before pulling the napkin out of his pocket and looking over the information. The handwriting was small, although not completely unreadable.

The address was at the top, along with the name of a bar (Hole in the Wall, that sounded classy) and 8:30. He wasn't sure if that was the time he would be going on or just when he should get there, so he made a mental note to get there early. And then in the corner was Anderson's cell phone number, hastily scrawled and a little blurred at the end, but still very legible. He simply folded the napkin back up and slid it into a pocket of his bag. He wasn't sure, despite his flirting, if calling Anderson was the best idea.

A simple tone came from his pocket and he wanted nothing more than to text back and tell Stanley to shove his phone up his ass, but one look at the name told Kurt that he would have a lot of explaining if he said that to his father.

The next day, Kurt had to reign in the temptation to go shopping. He was in New York and would love to buy something stylish enough to knock anyone off their feet (no one in particular, honestly), but he had to remember that Henry was a struggling musician. He lived in a shabby third floor apartment, he definitely didn't have money for style. It was easy enough to pull out clothes to fit the persona, a pair of dark skinny jeans and a light blue button up.

At eight oh seven, Kurt walked into the Hole in the Wall, his head held high and his messenger bag slung over his shoulders. A quick scan of the room told him that this crowd was not what he would call ideal, although he wasn't sure he could talk. They looked rowdy and already drunk and probably heathens, but he couldn't judge them because he was there to kill someone.

"Henry!" There was a genuinely happy voice erupting from the bar that he had moved to lean against and although Kurt didn't respond automatically to the name, he did turn around after a moment. It was like his unfortunate nickname in highschool, Porcelain. He had to learn to let it register because otherwise it could end badly.

When he finally found the owner of the happy voice, he let himself enjoy the sight. Anderson was behind the bar cleaning a glass, wearing a dark pair of jeans and a white v neck shirt, smiling straight at him. He even gave himself a moment to look over Kurt's attire, scanning his body up and down deliberately enough that it wasn't missed by Kurt.

"I didn't think you'd show after I didn't hear from you." Kurt had to refrain from smirking, instead settling for a shrug and a soft smile.

"I told you that I would come, didn't I?" Anderson laughed, placing his hands on the bar and leaning forward.

"Actually, no you didn't. You thanked me and introduced yourself, said you'd call me, and then left." Kurt raised an eyebrow and watched as Anderson laughed, looking a little like he wished he hadn't admitted to remembering all of that, but then shrugged it off.

"Did that hurt your feelings?" Kurt found himself leaning forward, closer to his target. There wasn't a lot of noise in the bar that they had to shout, although whoever was at the mic in the back of the bar sounded drunk and was slurring through a poor rendition of Yeah by Usher.

Anderson leaned forward a little more, his face merely a few inches from Kurt's now. And Kurt wasn't sure what he wanted to do, to stay here and play this cat and mouse game, or lean back so that he wouldn't have to worry about memorizing the exact shade of hazel that... damn, he was screwed.

"Maybe." Before Kurt could think of a response, someone called for a drink and his target had to step away, a small tinge of pink on his cheeks while he fixed someone's beer.

"Do you want anything? You go on at 8:50 by the way." Kurt eyed the drinks at the bar and shook his head. He never could handle alcohol well. It worked well if he could pay off the bartender to water down his drinks so that the target got drunk and he didn't, but that wouldn't work if the bartender was the target. Instead he requested a water and pulled himself onto one of the barstools.

Anderson stayed busy for a good amount of time after Kurt got there, sending him a smile and offering him a drink every now and then. Soon though he found himself standing on the stage, shifting from foot to foot and wondering if maybe he should have asked for a drink. He hadn't done this in a while, gotten up infront of a room of strangers to sing.

With that in mind, he sang through a song that he had done before, because you could never go wrong with The Beatles, not trying to impress anyone but himself. The thrill that he got from the stage tickled him, gave him a boost of adrenaline that made him give the song his all. And when he got off the stage and made his way back to his seat, amongst the applause and a few catcalls, he could still feel it thrumming under his skin.

"Wow." That was all that Anderson had to say, but it was all that he needed to say. His face said the rest. He was visibly in awe, a dirty rag draped over his shoulder. It was then that the thrumming under his skin started to soothe out, no longer keeping him wired, while he watched his target watching him. It was unnerving, which was saying something for Kurt. He usually wasn't unnerved by things like this, by being checked out by a guy.

"I'm off the clock. Want to sit down and talk?" It was an opening, it gave Kurt the opportunity to get the older man alone so that he could take care of business and get out of New York, get home to his apartment and forget this ever happened.

"Sure." And so they did.

They talked for a while about the bar, how long Anderson had been working there and some interesting things he had seen. Then they talked about Kurt, well Henry really, where Kurt was put on the spot to make up information on himself. He had almost let it slip that he was from Ohio but he had been able to change it from "Ohio" to "Oh...klahoma."

The topics went out from there, from sports to fashion to the city. Kurt hadn't felt the need to glance at the clock once, and when he did he felt the urge to let his head fall to the table they had sat down at. They had been talking for almost three hours. It was early, only just after midnight, but the bar was starting to get crowded and Kurt hated being in one place for too long.

"Do you want to get out of here?" His thoughts were coming out of Anderson's mouth. A look from the clock on the wall to the man infront of him told him that it was a mutual feeling. Of course Anderson wouldn't want to stay at the place he worked at too long after he got off work, no one would. Just the reason why Kurt refused to stay in one city for too long.

"Yea, sure." He pulled his messenger bag over his shoulder and the two of them maneuvered their way from the middle of the bar and towards the door. He hadn't noticed the height difference, he was just slightly taller than his target, until they were trying to step between three large men. At the moment, Anderson had stepped forward and put a hand on the small of Kurt's back to guide him through it and to make sure they did not lose one another in the mass of people.

When they broke out of the bar and into the night air, Kurt took a second to take a few deep breaths. His head was more clear now that he wasn't sitting a foot away from his target, staring at this hazel eyes and succeeding in memorizing every inch of the man that his eyes could see. He turned to the side to find his target but was stopped by Anderson grabbing his hand and pulling him down the street a little ways. He could have stopped them, could have forced his hand out of the other man's grip, but he went with him until they stopped at a deserted part of the street and Anderson turned them around, stepping so that Kurt's back was pressed against the wall with Anderson right infront of him.

Before Kurt could do anything, because he was sure that he was caught and his target was about to confront him for what he was doing, there was a pair of lips pressed against his. It was quick, light, and over way too soon.

They pulled apart and Kurt blinked down at Blaine, who was looking rather shocked himself. He opened his mouth but seemed to rethink it and shut it again. After a moment, a moment during which Kurt was trying to figure out what to do, the silence was interrupted again.

"Fuck it." And Blaine grasped the front of Kurt's shirt and pulled him back to him, their mouths meeting hurriedly and hungrily. There was no hesitancy this time, just ragged breathing as they both took what they wanted.

A/N: So you guys are still being seriously awesome. Like, cannot express how much I love you all. And WARNING! Next chapter will be where the rating is raised.

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