Shoot to Kill

It wasn't the silence that bothered Kurt as he drove, but more of the roaring that was going on in his head. They hadn't spoken since they left the city and actually, with a quick glance to his right to make sure he was right, Blaine had fallen asleep. He was actually rather grateful for that because he wasn't sure he could take the awkward silence. Not to mention he had enough on his mind, without worrying about trying to keep up a pointless conversation.

He knew it wouldn't be long until Carlson found out what had happened, that Kurt had stolen Blaine away. The only thing he had going for him right now was that if he had not been aware that Blaine had a car, there was a good chance that the new guy wasn't aware. And even if he did know, what was the honest chance that he could figure out the exact route they were taking?

Another glance to the right, followed by a glance to the radio to check the time, Kurt decided that he may as well try to find a hotel for the night. Although he could stay up for a long time, he had to often enough, he didn't want to chance it. Not with Blaine in the car. They had crossed into New Jersey some time back and it wasn't long before, after taking a few random exits, Kurt finally found a hotel that was off the beaten track but did not look too sketchy.

He almost didn't want to wake the other man up, his face was completely at ease and his body not tensed up. However he couldn't let Blaine sleep in the car, so he sucked up the courage and leaned over the seat a bit. It would be easier if he could just shake the man awake, but he didn't want to touch him, wanted to continue to keep his distance.

"Blaine? Blaine, wake up." He had to repeat himself a couple of times before the hazel eyes slowly blinked into consciousness. Kurt watched as Blaine struggled to figure out where they were, and what was going on. Once he remembered though, his eyes dropped closed again.

"What's going on?" Kurt turned to go through his messenger bag, pulling out the wallet at the bottom and checking to see how much cash he had on him. He would have to make it last because using one of his personal cards would just be stupid and counterproductive at this point.

"We're at a hotel. I figured we should get some sleep before we continue this." Blaine's eyes had shot open at the first part, but he relaxed once Kurt explained. He took in the surroundings with a sigh, rubbing his neck and stretching a bit before opening his door.

They both grabbed their duffle bags from the back seat, with Kurt locking the car as they headed for the hotel's main entrance. The girl behind the counter gave them both a quick glance, her mouth splitting into an almost too welcoming smile.

"Hi. What can I do for you boys?" Kurt glanced down at the bags they were carrying and then back to the girl.

"We're looking for a room for the night." She nodded, tossing them another too welcoming smile, and started to type into the computer she was sitting at. Kurt had no doubt that at least one of the tabs open had to be Facebook.

"It seems we don't have any double rooms open for the night. Only a few singles." She sounded genuinely sympathetic about that and in an ordinary circumstance, Kurt would have smiled to the girl to reassure her. However she was already rubbing him the wrong way and he really didn't do well with late night (or early morning) flirting. However before he could say anything, even if he wasn't sure what he would say, Blaine cut in.

"A single will be more than enough for us, right?" Not that Kurt would say he had known Blaine long enough to understand his facial expressions, but the one he was wearing now looked downright playful.

Which was really bad for Kurt, as was the idea of them sharing a room with only one bed, because he was focused on his new job of keeping Blaine safe. Safe from being killed and safe from himself.

The girl seemed to have swallowed something bitter as she looked at the two once more before typing something up, reaching behind the desk to grab a keycard. Kurt paid, using one of his many fake identification cards, before snatching the key and shooting the girl a sideways look and making his way out of the lobby.

Blaine followed at a slower pace, the playful look no longer on his face as they approached their door. Kurt tried the keycard once, then twice, and then three times before he was able to get the damn thing to work. The room did indeed only have a twin bed, but there was also a loveseat against the far wall, along with a television on top of a dresser. There was a bathroom attached to the room, smaller than Kurt thought should be legal with how much he had spent for the room.

"You can have the bed. I'll sleep on the loveseat." Kurt placed his bags on the seat as he said it, gesturing for Blaine to move towards the bed. He looked as if he wanted to protest but then shut his mouth, dropping his bag next to the bed and sitting on the edge, bouncing lightly as if to test the mattress. Kurt could have smiled, would have if the circumstances had been different.

Instead he pulled off his shoes and socks, placing them next to the couch, and pulled his bags off, setting them next to his shoes. The loveseat looked comfortable, but sitting on it told a different story. It had to be new, or at the very least very unused, because it was hard as rock. Knowing his back and neck wouldn't thank him for this sleeping arrangement, he pulled off his jacket and put it on the floor as well.

Blaine had stripped the bed, handing a pillow and the top blanket to Kurt, who accepted them with a tired smile.

"One of us should shower tonight and the other in the morning. So that we aren't rushed in the morning or anything." Kurt found himself floored, almost literally because if he hadn't been sitting he would have fallen over, that Blaine had said that. Even though he did not know what was going on, why Kurt had basically kidnapped him, he was being awfully cooperative.

"Do you want to shower tonight or in the morning?" Blaine rubbed his forehead, glancing into the small bathroom and then shrugging.

In the end, Blaine ended up being the one to shower. He grabbed some clothes and his shampoo from his bag before heading into the room, shutting the door behind him. Instead of imagining Blaine naked with water running over him (fuck, too late for that), Kurt turned off the lights except for the lamp next to the bed and tried to get comfortable on the loveseat.

It was difficult to get comfortable on something that felt literally like he was sleeping on a rock, but he would have to deal with it. The next time they stopped though, if they had to get another room with just one bed, he was claiming it. He curled up, tucking his legs as close as he could get them, and covered himself with the blanket almost to his face. There was something pressing into his hip that was causing him discomfort, more than the couch was, and he rolled over to figure out what it was.

He pulled his phone out of his pocket, having completely forgotten it was in there. He pulled it out and turned it on, figuring it had turned itself off when he had dropped it earlier, and waited for all of the messages he missed to catch up. There were missed phonecalls, but no voicemails. Then there was a slew of missed texts. He read each of them, seeing that most were from Stanley.

Asked when he would be flying out, asked if he needed someone to take him to the private airstrip where the jet was, asking if he had other plans, asking why he wasn't answering, demanding to know where he was. And then there was one text message from Carlson, two sentences that by themselves weren't threatening but in context, they were.

You don't want to do this Kurt. You really don't.

He put his phone on top of one of his shoes and rolled onto his back, his knees bent and feet flat on the cushion. His mind was reeling, thinking over everything. Carlson was assuming that Kurt was helping Blaine. He had said that he had had a feeling that Kurt wouldn't be able to go through with it, had called in reinforcements because of it. Of course Carlson was right, because obviously Kurt was helping Blaine, but it didn't sit well with him. If he got it in his mind that Kurt was a threat, what would he do to cancel that threat?

Kurt thought about his family and friends, his dad and Carole and Finn sitting at home with no protection, Mercedes and Rachel and Brittany, everyone he went to school with. Were they in danger? Did protecting Blaine put his loved ones in danger, and if so, was Blaine worth it?

The man in question came out of the bathroom and Kurt slowed his breathing to look asleep. He was still half expecting Blaine to make a break for it, to head for the hills as soon as he got the chance. For now he was playing along, but what about when Kurt told him what was going on? If there was any reason to get the hell out of Dodge, it would be that you were traveling with someone who had been hired to kill you.

Kurt listened to Blaine move as quietly as he could to the bed, putting his dirty clothes down and then falling into the bed. There was silence and then the light flicked off, the bed squeaking under Blaine as he got comfortable. And then there was silence once more.

When Kurt woke up the next morning, his neck and back hurt but he grit his teeth through the pain as he sat up. Blaine was still asleep, so Kurt grabbed his things (all of his things), and crept to the bathroom. The shower was small, almost coffin-like, but the water pressure was actually pretty fantastic. It worked a few of the kinks out of his neck, although not enough to count for anything. Once he was done, he dressed and glared at his reflection in the mirror. For many reasons. The first being that his hair was going to hate him by the end of this trip, whenever the end would be. The second being that the hickey looked darker somehow.

He adjusted his collar on the button up he was wearing, hoping that that would cover it. As long as he didn't make any large gestures, it should stay put. He packed his things and opened the bathroom door, surprised to see that Blaine had dressed and was watching the television, perched at the foot of the bed.

Their eyes met as Kurt moved between Blaine and the television, setting his things back next to the loveseat and sitting down himself. He was good at hiding how much pain he was in, and he had definitely been in more pain that just a crick in the neck (although he had never been shot or stabbed or anything, surprising for his occupation). However Blaine watched him closely, glancing at the clock next to the bed before turning off the television.

"Are you going to tell me what's going on now?" Kurt wanted to say no, but he knew he couldn't stall any longer. He unzipped his messenger bag and pulled out the packet, the one that Blaine had started to go through in Henry's apartment, and held it out. Blaine reached across the space between them and grabbed it, but not automatically flipping through it. He was still staring at Kurt, waiting for him to say something.

"Read that first. I'll answer questions and fill in blanks afterwards." Blaine nodded before cautiously opening the packet.

Kurt turned towards the window, opening the blinds just a bit and peering out. Part of him expected to see Carlson standing there, waiting for him to look out, but he knew that that wasn't realistic. However that did remind him that his phone was still on and they might track it. He grabbed it, seeing if he had missed any texts or calls in the night (just one text from his dad asking why he wasn't returning his phonecalls) before he popped it open and pulled out the battery.

When he turned back, Blaine's face was hard to read. The pictures were all flipped over and he was looking over the papers that held his information.

"You're a... hitman or something like that?" Kurt was impressed because Blaine's voice was shockingly calm, considering what he was asking.

"Yea." He was going to let Blaine ask the questions and then at the end, if there was anything they hadn't covered, he would see to that. He didn't have to wait long before Blaine asked another question, however it definitely was not one he was expecting.

"How does one get into that line of work exactly?" Kurt wanted to laugh, but instead he sat down on the loveseat across from him.

"It's actually kind of a funny story."

A/N: I am writing the most subtle sexual tension ever. For those who are wondering, this is not going to be straight angst for now until the end. There will be angst and fluff and smut. The more I think this through, the longer I realize this story will be. AND! Kurt is finally going to explain how he got into the hitman business. It is going to be incredibly unrealistic (although what do I know about the realism of becoming a hitman?) but I hope you still enjoy it.

Thanks to those of you that have introduced yourself on here or on tumblr, please continue to do so. I want to know my readers. So, just email me or drop me a review or a private message or stalk my tumblr. Links on my profile.

I hope you're enjoying the story.