A/N: First of all, please allow me to say that I am so incredibly humbled by all of your amazing and kind reviews. I had planned on writing this fic very quickly, and your reviews have simply cemented my resolve to finish this as soon as possible (not because I don't enjoy it… but there are my own personal stories I would love to work on over break).
I also want to let you all know that I post little updates about how writing is going on my Tumblr (link on my profile page). Since I reblog an awful lot of stuff, from now on I'll begin tagging my posts about this fic with the tag Personal Detail so you can search for notes about it quicker and more efficiently.
Quick special thanks to A Nonny Mouse for pointing out that we already have openly gay congressmen. I don't follow politics (at least, not domestic politics), so I really had no idea. XD The error has been fixed.
Disclaimer: As always, Glee doesn't belong to me. If it did, it would be renamed Dalton and be all about Kurt and Blaine. c:
Chapter Warnings: Not for little Gleeks!
The two men stand facing one another, just staring. Blaine's not quite sure how to react. Kurt Hummel looks like he could be anything but a specially-trained killing machine, but really, he's got no choice. "So," Kurt says finally, raising an eyebrow. His tone is a little sassy, and Blaine doesn't know whether to be endeared with his personality or a little off-put. The overwhelming reaction is endearment. "Are we just going to stand here and stare at each other or are we actually going to be… productive?"
The word rolls off his lips like honey, and Blaine finds himself smiling. "Productivity is my middle name," Blaine answers.
"I thought your middle name was Courage."
Blaine thinks about that before saying, "I have a lot of middle names. My parents were indecisive."
Kurt smiles, really smiles that time, and finally holds out his hand for Blaine to shake. "Well, Senator Blaine Courage Productivity Dalton. It's a pleasure to meet you. I'm Kurt Hummel."
Trying not to seem too eager, Blaine takes Kurt's hand and shakes it. The agent's hand is soft and warm, perfectly smooth and not even a little bit dry. It is quite the difference from Blaine's rough and calloused hands from dozens of years of playing a wide array of instruments. However, Kurt doesn't appear to be put off, and they finally let go of each other's hands.
"Well," Rachel says, stepping between them and causing the two males to step back. Though most of the other agents that had been in the room had dispersed, the people who remain had witnessed the whole exchange. The executive agent's face is stony and hard, but he doesn't say anything. "This has been a great introduction, but how about we let Agent Hummel get changed so we can get on with today's business. You have a lot to do today, Blaine, namely that press conference…"
Blaine holds up a hand and she trails off. "You're right." Kurt gives a little nod, taking this as his cue to leave. He turns and struts off, hips swaying tantalizingly, and Blaine can't help but stare at his ass as he walks away. Rachel clears her throat, obnoxiously, and the Senator quickly turns back to the remaining people in the room. Smiling, Blaine tries to play it cool. "Shall we get some coffee while we wait for Agent Hummel?"
There aren't any protestors, so they all head to the break room. They serve Blaine coffee in the best mug they have, which is a simple white ceramic mug featuring the Lincoln Memorial. He heavily flavors his with sugar and hazelnut creamer, just finishing when Kurt comes into the break room.
He's wearing a pair of tight gray pants, black boots, and a blue pea coat with a gray scarf underneath. His bag is over his shoulder, his hair in perfect condition, not looking at all like he had just come from sparring with his fellow Secret Service agents. Blaine looks him over before looking down into his empty coffee mug.
Rachel looks taken aback at Kurt's choice of fashion and tentatively asks, "Agent Hummel… are you sure that this is the best choice of clothing to wear on the job?"
Kurt rolls his eyes and flicks his hair out of his face, placing a hand on his hip and standing as he had in the practice room. "Look. I'm not your average Secret Service agent. I've been specially hired to protect the future President of the United States. It's impossible to do this by conventional means. It's better for me to pose as someone close to the President than as an agent." Kurt sits down and crosses his legs, placing his bag in his lap. "Besides, I don't exactly come off as the typical Secret Service type."
"He has a point," Blaine agrees. "If it proves to be an issue, we can change our tactics, but for now, let's trust his judgment."
The agent smiles and nods in Blaine's direction. "Thank you."
"This has been invigorating," one of the guards says, "but Miss Berry, we really must get the Senator to his press conference."
"Right," Rachel says, getting to her feet. Blaine follows suit, but Kurt takes his time getting up from his chair. She's addressing the executive officer now, shaking his hand enthusiastically. "Thank you very much for the coffee. I'll be in touch."
The Thanksgiving holiday comes and went. Blaine spent it with Rachel, Kurt, and a few other guards, though the day was spent just as any other, aside from a lavish dinner at the end of the afternoon. Soon after that, Christmas is upon them. Kurt has proved to be a more than capable bodyguard as the days roll by. If someone gets too close, Kurt sweeps Blaine casually away, laughing and telling jokes like an old friend. There has yet to be any outright violence, though the agent's sparring classes prove him to be a formidable fighter. Though tall and lean, Kurt is graceful and quick, and knows how to turn an opponent's strength against them.
And, though it might just be wishful thinking, Blaine could jut their tension with a knife.
Things are going well until Blaine notices that his bodyguard is becoming more and more morose as the days wear on. It seems that Kurt had no qualms with his job as of yet. In fact, he appears to be enjoying the Senator's company a majority of the time. They're both oddly compatible, easily getting along and comfortably spending their days together.
However, Kurt's mood begins to spiral as Christmas cheer begins to overtake Washington D.C. The normally chatty young man is staring forlornly out the window, drumming his fingers against his knee and heaving a sigh every few moments.
"Kurt," Blaine says finally, and the agent looks up, mildly surprised at the informal use of his first name. "What's the matter?"
The agent scoffs. "What are you talking about?"
"You've sucked up all the oxygen in the room with your heavy sighs," he explains, setting his file on his desk and taking off his silver-framed glasses. "I'm feeling light-headed. What's on your mind?"
The agent looks at him for a few moments and then turns away, looking back out the window. At first, Blaine thinks he won't answer and he'll be pulling teeth for the truth, but then Kurt speaks. "It's my dad. You know, I haven't seen him in a year and a half, and I was hoping to spend Christmas with him this year…" He shrugs where he sits, but doesn't turn back around. "I had to cancel on him when I got this job offer."
The Senator doesn't know exactly what to say at that. Primarily, he feels awful for preventing Kurt from visiting his family over the holidays. What Blaine would give to spend another minute with his parents. Without hesitating, he gets up and sits down beside the taller male. "Go spend Christmas with your father."
Kurt jerks around, eyebrows knitting down in confusion. "What?"
"You heard me," Blaine states, his smile kind. "Go."
"I can't just leave you unprotected," he counters. His voice leaves no room for argument, so Blaine comes up with the most logical solution.
"Okay. Then I'll go with you."
"What?"
But Blaine is already at his phone, dialing Rachel's number. She answers, and he says, "Rach, cancel all my appointments for the next four days. Kurt and I are taking a winter holiday."
"Are you sure that's wise?" Rachel's voice responds.
"It's going to be fine. It's only a couple of days, and Kurt will be with me. I won't even leave his house, if that makes you feel better," he says.
Rachel sighs heavily. "All right, fine. But do not leave his house. Do. Not." Her voice is venomous and deadly serious, and he realizes that she has the best chances of killing him if the opportunity presents itself.
They get Blaine out of the city with a wig that strongly resembles Rachel's and a feminine pantsuit. He borrows her sunglasses and second favorite winter coat, and none of the press are any of the wiser. Fortunately for Blaine, Rachel and Kurt have become buddy-buddy, so it's not unusual for them to be seen together casually.
The plane makes Blaine nervous, but Kurt is there so he automatically feels better. The ride isn't as long as he expects, even though he doesn't sleep. Kurt doesn't, either, but that's because he's too worried about his hair and the fact that Anne Hathaway is on the cover of the latest Vogue. Before he knows it, it's dark outside and they're pulling up the Hummel family's driveway in the most inconspicuous vehicle they could rent.
By now, Blaine has shed the wig and the pantsuit and is dressed in a pair of comfortable jeans, a simple black turtleneck sweater, black boots, and a heavy black pea coat. His hair is mussed from being under the wig, and he's wearing his glasses instead of contacts. He likes dressing this way; he hates being so formal all the time.
The front door opens while they're getting their duffle bags out of the trunk, and a tall man ducks through the doorway. He looks to be about their age, his dark hair smoothed out of his face, dressed in a simple T-shirt and jeans ensemble. "Kurt!" His eyes land on Blaine, and he squints at him. "…Do I know you?"
Blaine falters, but Kurt is quick to smooth over the situation. "A friend from work. His name's Blaine."
The tall guy looks over Blaine for a minute, nods, and heads back inside. Kurt slams the trunk closed, his cheeks flushed. He's smiling again, and Blaine knows that this is the right decision to make. Then Kurt catches him staring, and Blaine looks quickly away, adjusting his coat. "Should I be nervous?" Blaine asks.
He knows Kurt is smirking that little smirk of his, but he doesn't look at him to see it. "I don't know. Should you be?"
The Senator watches as Kurt sashays up the stairs and into the house. He hurries after him, not wanting to be left behind. Inside, he's surprised at how small and cozy the house is. The lights tinge the room orange, but it's so warm inside that he's immediately unbuttoning his jacket. It smells like macaroni and cheese, but not the cheap kind from the boxes that he has stocked up in his apartment – it smells like rich Velveeta cheese, noodles, salt, and herbal tea.
"Kurt!" a woman exclaims from the couch. She's a pretty blonde with her hair pulled back, a toddler sitting on her knees. Kurt smiles and leans over the couch to hug her just as an older woman comes in. She doesn't have to say anything; Kurt's immediately in her arms, hugging her tightly.
She's short, with short brown hair heavily streaked with gray, with a kind face and creases on her skin that just emphasize her smiles and her motherly persona. Blaine just watches all of these exchanges from the door, mussing his hair and adjusting his glasses. That's when the blonde notices him. "Oh! Hello!"
"Hey," he greets with an award-winning smile, and the blonde smiles back. "I'm Blaine."
"My name is Quinn," she replies, "and this is Rae Ann." The brown haired toddler looks at Blaine, who waves, before becoming shy and burying her face against her mother's chest. Quinn shrugs and looks to the older woman in the room, who has finally stopped speaking with Kurt and has turned to Blaine.
"Hello, Blaine, I'm Carole," she greets, bypassing a handshake and giving Blaine a warm hug. He smiles and returns it. She reminds him so much of his own mother that it almost hurts, but he says nothing about it. "Here, let me show you where you'll be staying –"
"Ma, you don't have to do that," Kurt says. "I'll show him. We'll be down for dinner in a second."
They leave the women downstairs and head up, stopping at the first door. "This is Finn's old room," Kurt explains. When Blaine looks at him blankly, he quickly corrects, "The guy who came out on the porch. He's my step-brother." He pushes open the door. The room is clean, though there are remnants of the teenager who used to live there. The sheets are fresh, though; he can still smell the laundry detergent.
"Finn and Quinn live in town," Kurt explains from the doorway, picking at his nails. "So it'll just be me and my parents sleeping here."
Something in Kurt's tone makes Blaine's skin flush, but he doesn't let it show on his face. "Okay," he says simply, setting his duffle bag on the end of the bed. He shrugs out of his coat and hangs it on the bed post, kicking off his shoes and adjusting the collar of his turtle neck. He steps out of the room and follows Kurt down the hall. In all honesty, Blaine is so curious to see what Kurt's childhood room looks like.
Inside, it's impeccably spotless, and very, very gray. Everything has a place, neat and tidy. Trophies from karate tournaments and glee club excursions alike like the shelves. A pair of some kind of dagger are mounted on the wall. Blaine smirks. "Gray?"
"Not all people can pull it off," he states, setting his bag down and draping his coat over the bed. He leaves his shoes on, turning to Blaine. "Hungry? Let's eat."
Downstairs, everyone is already seated around the table. Quinn is seated near Rae Ann and Finn. Two chairs are open across from one another, and then it's Carole and a foreboding-looking man with no hair and a face that strongly resembles Kurt's, and Blaine knows that this is his bodyguard's father.
"Hello, Mr. Hummel," Blaine greets, messing up his hair some more and shaking Mr. Hummel's hand with his free one. "My name is Blaine. I work with your son."
They shake hands. "Call me Burt," he says gruffly. They sit down and begin passing around the food, loading their plates and chatting amiably. When there's a lull in the conversation, Burt turns to Blaine. "So, Blaine," he says, "are you gay?"
Blaine almost chokes to death on a chunk of lettuce from his salad, and Kurt drops his fork. "Dad," he says sharply, while Carole shakes her head and Finn drops his head, embarrassed. Quinn only pays the minimum amount of attention, trying to feed Rae Ann and herself at the same time.
"What?" Burt asks, turning to Kurt. "It's a legitimate question. I want to know who my son is hanging around."
"I'm almost forty, dad," Kurt sighs.
Burt ignores him and turns back to Blaine, who has managed to clear his windpipe and compose his expression. "Yes, I'm gay," he answers.
"Do you like my son?" he inquires.
"We're good friends," Blaine explains. Before Burt can ask why Kurt would bring a 'good friend' home, the Senator continues, "He knows that my family is no longer alive, and he felt bad that I had to spend the holidays alone."
Kurt is staring at him now, and Burt has turned back to his food. "I'm sorry for your losses," he states. "We're glad to have you here for the holidays."
"Thank you," Blaine answers sincerely. "That means a lot to me." They exchange a smile, and the atmosphere relaxes.
Dinner winds down, and Quinn and Finn prepare to leave as Rae Ann begins falling asleep against her father's shoulder. Blaine and Kurt help Burt and Carole clean up the kitchen and pack away the leftovers, just talking all the while. They keep their job descriptions vague, and never once mention Blaine's last name; he's so disheveled and dressed down that they most likely didn't even recognize him off the television.
They finish the evening off with glasses of wine while watching a Christmas movie on television. When it's finally late enough, they all head upstairs to get ready for bed.
Blaine unzips his bag and pulls out his sleeping clothes - a simple pair of flannel pajama pants and a white T-shirt. He changes quickly, stepping out into the hallway just as Kurt comes out of the bathroom. His breath catches in his throat at the mere sight of him.
His agent is shirtless, his hair damp and falling neatly around his face. Their eyes lock, and Blaine swallows. Audibly.
Kurt looks torn, before looking away and heading to his room. Blaine exhales noticeably and turns, heading back the way he came. Before he can completely shut the door, however, Kurt pushes the door open and shoves Blaine up against the wall.
Their lips crash together, needy and insistent, constantly begging for the other to give more, and neither denies the other. Kurt moans as Blaine presses his leg between the agent's legs, while Blaine reaches out, fingers groping until he grabs the door and pushes it closed.
"Kurt," he gasps out, starting to rethink this. "Kurt, I.. I've known you for two months." Where is he going with this again?
The taller boy presses his lips to Blaine's neck, nipping the skin and leaving open mouthed kisses in his wake. "So?"
"So," he repeats. "So, should we be doing this?"
Kurt pulls away, looking sexy and disheveled and wonderful. "Don't you want to live a little?"
"I've lived plenty," Blaine insists, but he can feel his resolve quickly weakening as Kurt leans in to nibble on his earlobe.
The agent seems to sense this, and his hands slide lower to rest on Blaine's hips. "We could die at any moment." He leans back again, face flushed. "When was the last time you had any?"
Blaine has no answer to give, because honestly? He can't remember. It's been years, pathetically. The most action he's gotten has been in his shower by his own hand. Kurt smirks, and Blaine rolls his eyes, looking away. "Exactly," the taller male says, turning Blaine's face back to his and pressing their lips together once, twice, three times before sliding down along the length of Blaine's body and kneeling on the floor.
Oh, god, Kurt's parents are in the next room and there's a draft in his room and he's suddenly hard and he's not sure how well he can contain himself and – oh good sweet Lord above.
Kurt's mouth is suddenly around his swollen sex, tongue moving in erotic little circles around the head of his erection. Blaine's head falls back against the wall, his knees weak, but Kurt gives him some help and presses his hips firmly back against the wall with both hands. He's not sure how they got to this point – it was all so random – but Blaine is so incredibly happy for it because holy shit it has been a long time.
To his surprise, Kurt takes his entire length into his mouth, running his tongue along the underside of Blaine's erection. The older male jerks forward at the feeling, but Kurt presses Blaine's hips back against the wall.
That's when Kurt starts humming, and the vibrations drive him wild, over the edge, and he's coming. It doesn't bother the agent; he sits back and swallows without a second thought, wiping his lips and tossing his partially-dried hair out of his face. "So," Kurt says, his eyes glinting playfully. He smirks and gets to his feet, brushing his fingers against Blaine's now-limp penis. The Senator jerks at the touch, eyes rolling shut.
"So," Blaine finally replies.
The silence stretches between them, and Blaine opens his eyes. Kurt's still smiling, and he leans forward, brushing his lips gently across Blaine's. He can taste himself on Kurt's lips, and he finds that he quite likes the taste.
"Merry Christmas," Kurt breathes in his ear, running his fingers through Blaine's messy curls before leaving the room without a second look back.