A/N: Okay, all of you owe a great big thank you to my friend Charlotte on Tumblr (alittlebunny) because I wasn't even going to start this chapter today. But somehow, whenever my resolve to write weakens, she gushes about Personal Detail on her blog, and I feel so guilty (but also fired up) about her enthusiasm that I just HAVE to write. So thank you very much, Charlotte! This one's for you. c:

I hope you all had a safe and happy holiday, and that you enjoy this chapter. I wish you all the best of luck as we venture into the new year! If you make any resolutions, do your best to keep to them. I'll be trying my hardest!

Once again, I have to give a shout out to my amazing beta, UchidaKarasu!

Disclaimer: Glee is still the property of Fox and Ryan Murphy. That means Klaine has yet to be canon.

Chapter Warnings: More sexy goodness. If you're not okay with slash at this point in the story, I think there's something wrong with you. Or you're a masochist.

Before Blaine knows it, he's back on a plane, flying into D.C. He's got that wig on that makes him look like Rachel, and much like how he left, he makes it back into his office without a hitch, aside from the occasional reporter asking Kurt and Rachel what Blaine has been doing for the last few days. Neither of them answer. They just keep their hands clasped, keeping close, eager to make it back home.

It's a relief to sneak into his office and change into a suit. Oddly, dressing casually for so long – when it had only been a few days, really – lulled him into a false sense of security, almost, but tightening that tie up to his neck pulls him back down into reality. He's the Presidential Elect of the United States of America. In less than a month, he'll be inaugurated as the President. As all of these thoughts keep repeating in his mind, grounding him back into his real life, he stares absently out the window.

There's a knock at the door that makes Blaine turn, jarring him from his train of thought. "Come in," he calls, flopping down into his chair, though he realizes this is a mistake when he sees who's coming into the room. A smile splits his face almost in half, and he all but leaps out of his chair again. "Mercedes!"

She is dressed just as professionally as he, and her hair is pulled up into an elegant upsweep with a few curls falling out and dangling around her neck. They embrace, tightly, and Blaine leans back to look at her with a huge grin. "I was wondering where you've been! The press has been asking about you."

Rolling her eyes, Mercedes plops down into a chair near his desk, draping her coat over the seat beside her and folding her hands over her stomach. Blaine gets her a glass of water before he sits across from her at his desk, leaning forward with a smile. "I've been crazy busy!" Mercedes exclaims, exhaling heavily and brushing a curl away from her neck. "I spent the holidays with my mama, and my brother surprised us by showing up. He never told us he was on leave."

"Marines, right?" Blaine asks.

She raises an eyebrow and points a threatening finger at him. "Navy. And don't ever get the two confused again." She laughs, and he joins in as she takes a long drink from her cup before balancing it on the edge of the desk in front of her. Her smile has shrunk a little, but her eyes still glittering with happiness. "So, what's up? Campaign's over. I'm sure you don't need me anymore. Unless you're going to ask me to run in your place for New York, that is –"

"Actually," he begins, dropping his eyes and toying with a pen on his desk. "I want to appoint you as my Secretary of State."

She stares at him for a few moments before laughing. Eventually, though, the sound dies off and her eyes widen when he doesn't laugh with her. "You're… you're serious?"

"Very," he says. Before she can start spewing off how she doesn't want the job, Blaine rushes to finish his thought. "You're the best person I could think of for the position. Successful state representative from Ohio, graduated magna cum laude from Dominican University with a master's in International Relations…" He trails off for a moment as she begins to shake her head. "Mercedes, please. You're fantastic. I've seen you at your job, and you're incredible, and I don't want anyone else. Please say yes."

There's a long break of silence between them. Mercedes stares at him again, a tiny smile playing on her lips, and Blaine stares back at her, his own smirk growing when he realizes he's got her hooked. "You're never going to stop begging, are you?"

"Not a chance."

She laughs and shrugs, downing the rest of the water in her cup, and Blaine wonders if she wishes it was something a little stronger. "You didn't have to flatter me like that," she states plainly. "I would have said yes anyway."

At first, Blaine doesn't think he's heard her correctly. Then, suddenly, he's laughing, practically jumping over the desk to hug her again. She hugs back just as enthusiastically, and then she gets to her feet and shrugs into her coat with his help. "Do you want me to tell Rachel on the way out? I mean, I know the press has been buggin' about who's going to be your State Secretary and all."

Blaine waves her off and shakes his head. "I'm supposed to announce my decision for cabinet positions at the end of the month – early January, at the latest." He walks her out the door and down the hall, to the front of the Capitol Building. "I'll tell her that I've made my decision so we can start getting all of the preparations in order. Or whatever." He gives her a little half-smile when she laughs at his complete lack of knowledge of what comes next. He does have some idea, but he's not totally one-hundred percent about it. That's where Rachel comes in – she's the only reason he hasn't completely unraveled yet.

They make it to the entrance, and he hugs her again. She hugs him back and heads off to wherever she needs to be in the capital city, leaving Blaine standing there at the top of the steps as she walks off. A strong gust of wind whips at her coat, reaching the Senator seconds later and chilling him to the bone. He crosses his arms and hurries back into the building, letting the door slam behind him.

He's heading back for the stairs when he spots a flash of color near the wall. He blinks and turns to whatever it was, only to see Kurt leaning against one of the pillars. The slender agent beckons Blaine with a 'come hither' expression and the curl of his index finger, almost as if that digit alone could pull him forward. Acting casual, he checks his watch and doesn't bother glancing around; he just meanders over to where Kurt is standing until they're both hidden by the width of the pillar.

"What are you doing down here?"

"You seem to forget who you are," Kurt says with a flick of his hair and a typical smirk. "It would be so easy for someone to just walk in and…" He trails off, stepping closer to Blaine. Still inhibited by the fact that they're in public, Blaine takes a step back and his spine hits the pillar. Even so, he can't say he doesn't enjoy the attention. "…take advantage of you."

Shakily, Blaine exhales and closes his eyes. Kurt laces their fingers together and presses himself close to his charge. "Kurt," he says calmly and firmly. "Please. We're in public."

"So?"

"So," he hisses back, making no effort to move away. "I can't get caught with you in the open. I thought that was pretty obvious."

"Don't you trust me to be sneaky?"

Blaine really doesn't have an answer for that. Of course he trusts Kurt to be sneaky. The man has been trained in specialized combat for the last ten years of his life. When he thinks about it, Blaine doesn't trust himself to be sneaky, so he dodges the question completely. "Please, Kurt," he whispers. "Not here. Not now."

Kurt leans back and looks at him, his expression unreadable. "Okay," he concedes finally. "On one condition."

"What's that?"

"Kiss me." He pauses. "Please," he adds as an afterthought.

Blaine starts to glance around, but Kurt grabs his chin and holds him still. "Just trust me," Kurt begs, "and kiss me."

Blaine chuckles nervously and gently takes Kurt's face into his hands. "Okay, calm down," he breathes, pulling his agent's mouth down to his own. They share a kiss, soft and sweet and warm, before he pulls away. Kurt remains still, eyes closed, for just a moment longer before those blue-green eyes are staring at him. He smiles, and it manages to leave Blaine breathless.

"Was that so bad?" Kurt asks.

"No," Blaine says quietly in reply. "Of course not."

They smile at each other before Blaine pulls him into an embrace, holding him tightly for a moment or two before pulling away and heading out around the pillar. Kurt follows behind him casually, both heading for the stairs. When he sees that no one's around to see them emerge from their little hiding place, Blaine relaxes and grins at Kurt, who begins to chat his ear off about nothing in particular. Recent developments in Washington, the new line out by Marc Jacobs, something a friend from college said in a phone call.

The rest of the day passes in a slow-moving haze of nothingness. Blaine sits behind his desk filling out paperwork, finding his work as a senator tedious. Kurt remains in the office, reading a book quietly in the corner, only leaving for ten minutes to get a salad before returning to his seat. They part ways in the evening with nothing but that single kiss to hold them over.

A few days later, Blaine is in his office, stressed beyond belief at the sheer amount of work he has to do before his inauguration, just a few short weeks away. His eyes are irritated so badly that he doesn't even bother with contacts, and his hair is a mess, turning grayer faster than he can get himself to his hair stylist to get it dyed.

The door of his office opens and closes quietly.

He looks up to see Kurt standing with his back against the door. "Hey," he greets.

"Hey," Blaine replies, setting his pen down and leaning back in his chair. He runs a hand over his face and tilts his head back, heaving a sigh. Kurt doesn't have to ask to know what's wrong; he's just as immersed in this bullshit as Blaine is. Naturally, he's surprised when his agent sits down in his lap, straddling his legs and placing his hands firmly against Blaine's shoulders.

"Holy shit," Kurt mutters, kneading the Senator's shoulders. "You're really tense, Blaine. I don't even want to know how knotted your back is."

Blaine just hums in response, Kurt's firm, warm touch lulling him towards sleep. The monotonous motion and feeling of his muscles being forced to relax feels heavenly, and his head tilts all the way back until it's resting on the top of his chair. He barely realizes that Kurt's hands begin to travel lower over his chest, loosening his tie and undoing the top three buttons of his shirt. He doesn't even say anything when those supple hands slide down over his stomach, coming to rest on his belt.

He barely has enough sense to kiss his agent back when those lips are on his. Slowly but surely, he's brought back to reality not only by that kiss, but also by the hand on his crotch, rubbing at the crease in his trousers to get him hard.

"Kurt," he gasps, wriggling against that body, but it only heightens the sensation and makes him groan with desire. "Kurt, what are you doing, ohh…" This feeling is in stark contrast to the tension he was feeling just moments before. Kurt just smiles and presses his lips to Blaine's, kissing and rubbing until Blaine is completely relaxed, and he knows he's nothing but putty in Kurt's capable hands.

"Just relax, Mr. President," the younger man whispers erotically in his ear, making Blaine shiver and rub his pelvis up against him. "I'm gonna make you feel so good."

Kurt slides down onto the floor and unhooks Blaine's belt, letting it fall open so he can flick the button open and slide the zipper down. Even before he's pulled halfway out of his underwear, Blaine's eyes are rolling back into his head as he bites down on his lip, raising his hips as Kurt slides his slacks down just a little more – just enough so he can pull Blaine's swollen sex completely out of his those incredibly restricting pants.

Before he knows it, Kurt's mouth is around his cock, and it's all he can do to keep from thrusting into Kurt's mouth. He bites his lip, head lolling back as he raises his hips off the chair. That mouth is so hot that Blaine's amazed he has yet to come, though he feels himself quickly losing control. "Ohh, Kurt," he moans, gripping the arms of his chair tightly.

That's right about the moment where the door opens and Rachel walks in.

Faster than lightning – or so it would seem – Blaine has shoved Kurt under his desk. He slides his chair as far forward as it will go, so Rachel can't see the fact that his dick is hanging out of the front of his pants. He knows his face is as red as a tomato, and he looks absolutely guilty, but she doesn't look directly at him just yet, so he can feel some of the color beginning to drain from his face.

Kurt begins to trail his fingertips up and down the length of Blaine's still-hardened erection as Rachel approaches the desk. Blaine jerks forward so he's hunched over his desk, quickly resting his elbows down and linking his fingers together, looking like some very gay, very disgruntled version of Dr. Evil.

Rachel finally looks up from the papers she's been scanning over, doing a double take as she finally notices Blaine. "Uh… what's with the evil villain vibe?"

"Uh," he begins eloquently, chomping down on his lip to bite back a moan as Kurt's tongue swirls around the head of his cock. "Uh, well, y-you know… h-headache and a-all." He curses his stammer and bites on his tongue, wanting to kick and kiss Kurt all at the same time.

"…Oh-kay," she says slowly, drawing out both syllables of the word. She shakes her head, as if to get rid of cobwebs, before dropping a planner onto his desk. "Well, I just wanted to let you know that your press conference about Mercedes is set for the week after New Year's. You also can't forget that Senator Evans is holding a little New Year's get-together at his house in Virginia, and you simply have to go." She picks up the book again and pencils something down on the page. "It's a great moment for you to get some good publicity."

"Ohhh." Kurt's mouth has once again completely enveloped his dick, and it's all he can do to keep his head. "O-Ohh. R -Right! The party. How could I f-forget? Silly me!" He laughs nervously, sweat breaking out over his forehead as he rests one of his hands on his knee, digging his nails into the fabric of his slacks.

Rachel crosses her arms after flipping her planner closed, raising an eyebrow skeptically. "Blaine, what the heck is the matter with you? You're flushed! Are you cold? Do you have the flu?" She steps forward to lean across the desk, and Blaine lurches forward to meet her halfway. Though his intentions are to keep her from getting a glimpse of something that could never be unseen, he only succeeds in forcing Kurt to deep-throat him. A groan emits from deep in his throat as his advisor brushes her fingers against his forehead.

"You're burning up, Blaine!" she exclaims, eyes widening. "Oh, God, you can't be sick!"

"I-I'm not sick," he manages breathlessly, swallowing another moan. "It's j-just jet lag!"

That makes her stop and give him a look that clearly questions his sanity. He's nearly outright panting by now, and his grip on his chair could easily break the neck of a small mammal. His eyes keep rolling back into his head, and his cheeks are flushed with color.

"I'm going to page for the doctor," Rachel says, panic clear in her voice.

"Rachel!" Blaine slams a fist on the desk and groans, easily stopping Rachel in her tracks. Kurt's mouth is doing wonderful things and now his hand has joined in and oh, God, just make it stop – "Rachel, do not call the d-doctor." He tries to keep his voice calm, but it keeps breaking and quivering and oh shit Kurt just needs to stop already –

"Blaine, there's something seriously wrong with you," she says, voice shaking as tears come to her eyes.

"I swear to you that I am f-f-iiiiine," he assures her, clamping his eyes shut on the last word and slamming his fist onto the desk again. "Oh, God dammit just get out of here, please!"

"I can't leave you alone like this!"

"Oh my God, Rachel, I just have to go to the bathroom so fucking bad –"

"Oh, gross!" She takes a step back, like he may explode at any moment. "Then let me help you to the bathroom –"

"Rachel just get the fuck out of my office!"

As he screams those words, he comes, hard, but by this moment, Rachel has scurried from the office and shut the door quietly behind her. Blaine slumps over onto his desk, panting and feeling altogether spent. He swallows, hard, and slowly gets to his feet, clutching onto his desk for support. Before he can topple over, Kurt is there, supporting and steadying him, look all too pleased with himself the whole time.

"I'm. Going. To. Kill. You," he threatens as he's deposited into his chair, his agent helping him tuck in his shirt, button his pants, and fix his belt.

"No, you're not," Kurt whispers in reply, leaning forward to capture Blaine's lips with his own.

"Okay, I'm not," he agrees, trying to act furious but unable to as Kurt hands him a cup of water. He downs it in almost one gulp before resting his head against the back of his chair with a worn-out expression. "What am I gonna tell Rachel?"

Kurt swishes water around in his mouth before swallowing with an impish grin. "You covered that already." He snorts as he takes another drink. "'I have to go to the bathroom'… what the hell have you been eating, Blaine?" Kurt grins and runs his tongue over his teeth. "Whatever it is, it's delicious."

Blaine groans and shuts his eyes, running a hand over his face. "Jesus Christ, stop turning me on."

"Okay, okay," Kurt concedes, stepping over to Blaine's chair and resting his hand on the Senator's shoulder. "I'm sorry. I thought you handled that quite well, if you ask me." Without warning, he stoops to place a gentle kiss on Blaine's lips. Blaine relaxes with a sigh and kisses back, long and slow and deep, until Kurt leans back and heads for the door with a wink.

He waits until at least five minutes have passed. To his surprise, he can walk pretty normally, though his knees are still a little shaky. He steps out of his office and heads down to Rachel's desk. She catches a glimpse of him out of the corner of her eye and looks away quickly, blushing as soon as she can see him.

"Um, Rachel," he begins.

"Don't say anything," she says, cutting him off. "I don't know what happened in there, and I don't think I ever, ever want to know." She glances across the room, where Kurt is sprawled out on a couch, reading the latest issue of Vogue he retrieved off the coffee table. "That never happened, okay?"

He sighs, relieved. "Okay."

Rachel makes good on her word and doesn't say anything about what happened in the office that day. Thankfully, they all have the New Year's Eve party at Senator Sam Evans' home to think about instead. Rachel, Blaine, and Kurt all arrive just after the party is officially under way, though they're all bombarded by the press and fellow politicians alike the second they walk through the door.

Blaine's novelty doesn't wear off as the night goes on, much to his dismay. He manages to set himself up near the buffet table where he can just nibble on snacks and sip champagne and talk. Kurt is never far away, though he does his own socializing, away from his charge. The clock nears eleven forty-five when Blaine is finally free from talking, immediately stepping over to Kurt.

"This is the worst party," Kurt states plainly, looking out at all the stuffy politicians in their neatly pressed suits with their perfect trophy wives on their arms.

"The worst," Blaine agrees, downing the rest of his champagne and grabbing another glass.

The agent watches him with a bemused expression. "Should you be drinking like that? That's your fourth one in the last three hours."

"I'm fine," he says with a smile, sipping his drink this time. "I've been eating this whole time, too."

Kurt looks excited, but falsely so. "Great! Drunk and fat!"

His jaw drops at this, and he gives his bodyguard a playful shove. "You little shit!"

"I'm only kidding," he replies with a fond smile, adjusting the coat of his Armani tuxedo with a huffy sigh. Blaine watches his face for a second, setting his drink down on the table. The minutes continue to tick down to midnight, and he sidles closer to Kurt discreetly. Of course, the agent notices and looks away with a shy grin. Blaine lets his fingers trail over Kurt's palm and fingers until their eyes meet, and he nods very slightly to a darkened hallway that leads to the bathrooms.

Blaine goes first, but Kurt isn't far behind. They don't even make it to the bathroom when they're hidden around the corner, pressed into the corner, listening to the radio over the loudspeaker – who puts a loudspeaker in their house? – as the countdown to midnight begins.

"I've never had a New Year's kiss," Kurt admits, his hands resting lightly on Blaine's shoulders. The shorter man pulls his agent closer by the hips, until their bodies are pressed together. "Not sober, at least."

"Me either," Blaine says, causing Kurt to raise his eyebrows.

"You think this counts?"

"Shut up," he says as the countdown reaches one. Their lips are on one another's now, kissing greedily and hungrily. Blaine's hands are under Kurt's jacket, trailing up and down the younger male's sides as they continue to kiss, his tongue slicking out against his agent's lower lip. Kurt giggles girlishly, which makes Blaine smile in return, and they're too lost in each other to hear the pair of heels clicking down the hallway.

Blaine's hands are just beginning to slide lower, to grab Kurt's supple ass and press their bodies even closer together, but suddenly, there is someone shoving them apart, and Blaine looks over to see a furious Rachel, waving her clutch in Kurt's direction. "You stupid, stupid boys! What the hell are you thinking?" Then, without warning, she whirls on Blaine and beats him multiple times with her purse. "What the fuck are you doing?"

"R-Rachel! Rachel, stop, ow!" He grabs her purse and yanks it away from her. "Look, it's no big deal. It's nothing serious, just a little fling." His eyes flash to Kurt's face. The agent gives a nod, and Blaine focuses back on Rachel. "We're both just… needy."

"I fucking knew you were going around behind my back," she hissed, advancing on him again. "The trip, the little looks, the office…" She trails off and looks at Kurt, eyes so wide they look as if they might pop out of her head. "You weren't… in the office… please tell me…"

Kurt just shrugs innocently and says nothing.

She shrieks in fury and rushes at Blaine again, who holds the clutch out of her reach. "Give me my purse!" she exclaims, reaching for it. "Blaine Dalton, give me my God damned purse back!" He doesn't listen to her, and once again keeps it out of her reach by tossing it over to Kurt. "God dammit!" She slams her foot on the ground out of frustration, sucking in a shaky breath before sobbing and sinking to her knees.

At this point, Blaine knows it runs much deeper than just his illicit love affair with his bodyguard. He sinks to one knee beside her, wrapping a protective arm around her shoulders. "Rachel? Rach-Face, what's the matter?"

Sobbing still, she chokes out, "P-Puck can't g-get leave and I'm stuck here by myself, and I h-have so much f-freaking work to d-do, and I just get s-sick all the damn time, and everything is going to shit and I don't know what to do, Blaine." He knows she'll keep going, and she sucks in a deep breath and chokes before crying some more. "I'm pregnant and Puck's not here and I'm totally lost!" Her sobs have turned to wails of pain, and she's doubled over on herself, as if to hold all that pain inside.

"Oh my God," Kurt says simply.

"Rachel," Blaine whispers, eyes wide. "Oh, God, Rachel." He pulls her into his arms and holds her tight, rocking her as she cries. "Just cry it out, baby girl, just cry it out…"