Shoot to Kill
"Hey Blaine, it's Henry." Kurt was sitting on the lumpy couch in Henry's apartment, his right leg shaking back and forth as he inwardly held his breath. He had to get this just right...
"Oh hey! I wasn't expecting to hear from you already. You only left a few hours ago." This was true, but Kurt couldn't help it. He had gone through it a few times in his mind and he just wanted to get it over with. The sooner the better.
"Yea, I've just done a lot of thinking in a short amount of time I guess. Listen, about this Friday-"
"You've changed your mind, haven't you?" Blaine's voice was resigned, if a bit rushed, and Kurt could imagine him standing in the same position he had that morning, the same from the coffee shop. This man was so used to rejection that he automatically prepared for it, regardless of the reason. Shaking his head, Kurt answered.
"No, I haven't actually. I just don't think that going out would be the best way to get to know me. I'm not myself when I'm out on dates." Which was true. Kurt found it difficult to be a hitman trying to kill his target at a five star restaurant. They usually frowned upon that sort of thing.
"I understand completely. So what would you feel more comfortable doing?"
This was the part that Kurt had rehearsed to himself over and over before dialing Blaine's number. It shouldn't have been as difficult as it was, to get the words right.
"I was thinking you could come here. I could cook or we could order out? And this Friday won't work for me so I was thinking maybe tonight?" He sounded desperate and his leg wouldn't stop shaking and if Blaine said no, it would make this a lot more difficult than it already was.
"Tonight? I work at the bar, but I guess I could come straight over. I get off at eight thirty. That work? It would be a late dinner. And I wouldn't be able to shower or anything." Kurt closed his eyes before letting them spring back open. And now he was going to have the image of Blaine in the shower permanently in his mind. Perfect.
"No worries. I'll text you my address. Any suggestions for dinner?" Blaine laughed, the sound low and open to Kurt's ears.
"Surprise me." With another laugh, Blaine hung up, leaving Kurt to stare at his cell phone.
This was either really bad, or really good. Either way, Kurt was going to be retiring his status, permanently. There was still the little snag of actually doing the job. In theory, Kurt could do this with his eyes closed. He'd done it dozens of times already, he never stopped to think what it meant. And the more he thinks about it now, about actually doing the job and not just in theory, Kurt wants to close his eyes.
He was not in love with Blaine Anderson, but he wasn't going to deny that he had some sort of feelings for the man. It was more than just attraction and lust, which was strange because they had only known each other for a few days. However Blaine had gone out of his way to help a stranger. Plus when they talked for those few hours in the bar, Kurt hadn't even noticed the time go by.
He was looking for a reason to get out of this, that's what was going on. No, he would do this. Because it was what he had to do. This would be he last job, his hardest job, but he had to do it.
As it got later, and he had checked the apartment four times to make sure it was Henry free, Kurt went to the store to grab a few things to cook. It wasn't until he was halfway done with the meal, an impressive looking pasta dish, that he realized he was trying to impress Blaine. And after telling himself four times that it was to keep the pretense, that Henry would be doing this for their first official date, Kurt still had to talk himself out of throwing the food away and just ordering pizza.
He had fretted over every little detail, although the apartment left much to be desired. No matter how many times he told himself to just take a deep breath, he couldn't get over the fact that this was happening. He felt like he was actually going on a date, something he hadn't done for other than work related reasons in too long, instead of just a normal day at the office. Blaine would get there, they would eat, and Kurt would take care of business before the second helping.
Which actually he couldn't do because he had bought a delicious looking chocolate crumble cake, so he would have to kill him after dessert. Fuck. There he goes again, looking for excuses.
There was a knock on the apartment door, startling Kurt out of his chocolate cake excuse mental rant. He checked the table and then checked his clothes, because he was still style conscious enough despite what he was going to be doing later, and moved to open the door.
Blaine stood wearing a jacket with a light splattering of water on the collar, telling Kurt that it had started raining, over what was probably his required clothing at the bar. A pair of dark, nicely fitting jeans and a black v neck this time, but all in all it did wonders for the man. He was also holding in a delicate grip a lily. Kurt accepted the flower, hoping his hand wasn't shaking as much as the rest of him was, and pulled the older man in.
"Make yourself at home." Blaine nodded, shrugging out of his jacket and hanging it on the hook on the back of the door. He looked around the apartment, which would make Kurt nervous except for this was Henry's apartment and really reflected nothing on him and even if this was a first date, it was also the last date.
"How long have you lived here?" Kurt shrugged, hoping it was nonchalant and not just him trying to think of an answer.
"Long enough to get settled." He moved about the kitchen before returning to the table, a small vase with water to put the lily in.
"No one has ever brought me flowers. Or even just one flower." He hadn't meant to say it. Things just came out around Blaine, which was really dangerous considering what he was supposed to be doing.
"I guess I was trying to be romantic." And woah, when did Blaine come up behind him? Blaine might have been shorter, but he still wrapped his arms around Kurt's waist, twirling him around so that they were facing each other.
"I guess you succeeded." Was that Kurt's voice that came out all breathy like that? Not a good sign. He needed to step away, clear his head, and get this dinner under way before he... and that was Blaine's mouth on his.
He did not want to kiss Blaine in the way that he wanted to kiss Blaine but he shouldn't. Because it was easy to get distracted and lose track of time while Blaine was holding onto his waist, pressing his fingers just hard enough into the skin that made Kurt almost lose all sense and just give himself in to the kiss. He couldn't though, because he had a job to do. Or something like that.
Instead of pulling away, which was what he should be doing, Kurt let his hands creep up and tangle into Blaine's curls. They stayed that way for a little longer than Kurt would have liked, except that he really, really did like it.
"Okay, okay, enough. Save room for dinner." Kurt swatted at Blaine's hands playfully, feeling a little dizzy after the kiss. Blaine groaned and bent his head down, nuzzling into Kurt's neck.
"But I always eat my dessert first." Ignoring the fact that the words and the feeling of Blaine talking... oh, and kissing... his neck was making his knees weak, Kurt tried to pull away again.
"Uh-uh, but I bought a dessert!" He motioned to the cake that was on the table and Blaine looked at it quickly before returning to continue sucking on Kurt's neck.
And really, Kurt was only human, so he didn't blame himself too much when his head rolled to the side to allow Blaine more access.
"But that stuff will go straight to my hips. And I just want to go straight to your hips."
Ordinarily, something like that would make Kurt roll his eyes and scoff. However coming from Blaine, who was proving just the amazing things he could do with his tongue, it was one of the hottest things he had ever heard.
"Come on Blaine, seriously." Despite his words, Kurt was laughing and realized he hadn't really released Blaine's arm yet. So with the self restraint he hadn't realized he possessed, especially after that kiss, he pulled himself fully away from Blaine. Which was a feat in and of itself, because Blaine was like an octopus.
"Now sit. This pasta does not taste good cold." Blaine laughed, holding his hands up in surrender, before moving to one of the open chairs.
The two of them made small talk while eating, about Blaine's day at work and Kurt's day in the apartment. Everytime he found himself relaxing into the conversation, his eyes would dart to the messenger bag he had rested against the table beside the couch, and he would be reminded why they were there.
After dinner, which Blaine could barely stop praising, he moved to the counter to grab the cake. However instead, he was pressed against the counter and Blaine was kissing his neck from behind. It felt... no.
"Blaine..." Blaine pulled away, sighing against the skin as he let his head drop against Kurt's shoulder.
"I'm sorry. I don't know what's wrong with me. I just... don't want to stop touching you. Kissing you. Sorry. We should, yea." He stepped back and Kurt turned around to face him, biting his bottom lip.
"I'm going to go to the restroom. Have a seat on the couch, the remote should be on the coffee table." Kurt nodded and barely refrained from running from the room, his hands shaking as he shut and locked the door.
Leaning against the door, Kurt tried to breathe through the feelings. Remorse, guilt, and fuck... affection. He knew this was a bad idea. He never should have let it get this far. Blaine was a dead man and Kurt was going to be stuck pining after him, it wasn't right.
So with another deep breath, Kurt washed his face and unlocked the door, stepping into the living room. He expected to see Blaine on the couch, but he was standing next to it with a folder in his hand, Kurt's messenger bag upended on the floor.
"What... what is this Henry?" Kurt was shaking, his mouth dry. Blaine was flipping through the pictures, pictures of himself, with his eyes wide and expression confused.
"How did you find that?" Blaine looked up, holding the pictures out and then pulling them back. He didn't seem to have gotten to the papers in the back yet.
"The remote... was under your bag. It fell over and these slid out. What is this Henry? Where did you get these pictures?"
Kurt had to be quick, because if he got to the papers in the back, this would get ugly and more difficult than it already was. He moved to where Blaine was and bent down, grabbing his messenger bag and righting it. He pushed a few things aside before letting his fingers slide over what he was looking for, making sure he had a good and sure grip before he pulled it from his bag.
Blaine stared at him oddly for a second before his face went pale, his eyes widening once again, and the papers dropping from his hands.
"Henry-"
"Don't... don't call me that. Okay, you weren't supposed to find those but it's just as well." Blaine looked at the papers around his feet before back up to Kurt's face, then down his arm to where he was clutching the gun.
"What... in... the fuck... is going on?" Kurt wanted to laugh because honestly, hadn't he been asking himself that same question since he met Blaine Anderson. This was out of control.
"I just... I have to." And Kurt closed his eyes for a second, just a split second, to ready himself. But when he opened his eyes, he wasn't ready. Blaine hadn't even moved an inch, even though he was fairly close to the door or could dive behind the couch or scream for help, and was just staring at him. There was fear there, that much was obvious. There was also confusion and hurt. Fuck.
"Leave." The word came out in a bark, Kurt lowering the gun just a little. Blaine looked even more confused than before.
"What the fuck? What's going on?" Kurt moved forward, aiming the gun away from Blaine just enough that it still looked like it was pointed at him, and growled out his next words.
"Get the fuck out of here Blaine. Now." Blaine almost looked reluctant to leave, looking over his shoulder as he ran from the room, then out of the apartment. His jacket still hung on the back of the door, swinging as the door shut.
Kurt's hands were shaking worse now than ever before and he dropped the gun on the couch, pulling his cell phone from his pocket and dialing Carlson's number.
"Frank Carlson." Kurt could feel the bile rise in his throat but he pushed it away, closing his eyes as he spoke.
"I can't do it. I'm emotionally compromised." Emotionally compromised was their way of saying they had gotten attached. It was frowned upon but sometimes inevitable. There were contingency plans for things like this.
"You know, I had a feeling you wouldn't be able to do it. I already went ahead and sent someone to relieve you. Come home. We'll talk about this when you land."
The dialtone sounded harsh, louder than ever before, and Kurt let his phone fall. He hadn't been able to do it. He had prepared and prepared and pep-talked his way into a corner. He bent down and grabbed his phone, sliding it back into his pocket. From there he moved back to the couch, plopping down and glaring at the papers on the floor and the gun beside him. With a groan, he let himself fall from the couch to start gathering up the papers, sliding them back into the folder. He tried not to look at the pictures, but he couldn't help it. The man had been out of the door for five minutes and Kurt missed him.
As he slid the folder back into his messenger bag, the gun following it, he felt his heart drop. Carlson's words slowly came back to him.
I already went ahead and sent someone to relieve you. Which meant that there was someone else in this city that wanted Blaine dead.
Quicker than Kurt could imagine, he grabbed his things from the bedroom and slung his messenger bag over his shoulder, checking it once to make sure the gun was in there, before moving to the door. One quick check and then he flew out of the door, not even bothering to lock it or turn off any lights.
He had to get to Blaine.
A/N: Soooo Kurt didn't kill Blaine. But someone else is there to do the job. Whoops. This story isn't over yet, dear darling readers, so don't fret. I still have a few twists and turns up my sleeves.
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