It was one of those lazy Sundays that Blaine had grown to love over the past few months. Kurt would make them a late breakfast of eggs, toast, sausages, mushrooms and fried tomatoes and he would usually do it half dressed.

Today was no exception, with Kurt only wearing a pair of form fitting black briefs and Blaine's navy NYC t shirt. Kurt was frying the eggs, his hips moving along to the steady beat of the pop song on the radio. He was humming along, a few of the words slipping out every so often.

Blaine rubbed his eyes with the heel of his hand, yawning as he walked into the kitchen. When he saw Kurt his face broke out into a dopey smile as he chuckled lightly, his eyes following Kurt's ass as it shook in time with the music.

He walked over to Kurt, placing his hands on Kurt's hips. Kurt startled at first but then leant back against Blaine's bare chest, allowing Blaine to guide his hips in slow circles. Blaine kissed the top of Kurt's shoulder as he pressed his own hips against Kurt's ass.

"The eggs will burn," Kurt said, his voice a little breathy. Blaine was already half hard and if Kurt continued to grind up against him like he was the eggs were sure to burn a hole through the pan.

"Don't care," Blaine mumbled, voice hot and heavy against Kurt's ear. Kurt shuddered, his head falling back to rest on Blaine's shoulder as he pushed back harder against Blaine's groin.

From the kitchen table Blaine's cell started to ring.

Blaine groaned as Kurt pulled away and shrugged, shooting Blaine a teasing smile, his eyes twinkling at Blaine's frustrated face. Blaine bit down on his tongue and furrowed his brow as he playfully said, "This isn't over!"

Kurt merely giggled, turning the gas off the oven as he emptied the contents of the frying pan onto a nearby plate.

When Blaine picked up his cell, his smile dropped slightly when he saw Q flashing on the screen. He turned to look at Kurt, who was humming along to the rest of the song as he busied himself with the jug of orange juice from the fridge. Blaine answered, keeping his voice casual as he said, "Hi there."

"Long time, no speak, B," Quinn replied.

"What's up?" Blaine asked. Kurt smiled at him, holding up two fingers and then pointing at the half filled plates as he picked up the oven gloves from the counter. Blaine nodded, returning the smile.

"What's up?" Quinn mimicked. "Is he there?"

Blaine laughed lightly and said, "Yeah."

"Can we meet? I have a proposition for you," Quinn said, sounding annoyed.

Blaine frowned slightly. "Now? I'm just about to eat and then me and Kurt have plans." Kurt looked up curiously at Blaine who tried to keep his features neutral.

"I'm sure you can go to Pottery Barn another day," Quinn said, unkindly. There was a snarl to her voice that left a bad taste in Blaine's mouth. "Meet me in an hour, usual place." And then she hung up.

Blaine held the phone back to look at it, sighing. He sat at the table just as Kurt was putting the plates down.

"Everything okay?" Kurt asked, sounding concerned.

"Yeah," Blaine said, waving his hand as though to brush off Kurt's worry. "It was my brother, Cooper, he wants to see me." Blaine felt something tug hard at his gut at the lie and it only worsened when he saw Kurt's smile soften.

"Oh, that's nice!" Kurt said brightly. He was watching Blaine expectantly, as though waiting for an invite, which was logical. Kurt was his boyfriend and meeting the family was one of the steps of a serious relationship. And after all, he had met Blaine's dad already.

"He's a mess," Blaine explained quickly. "His girlfriend dumped him and he just wants someone to talk to, so…" he trailed off, hoping he didn't need to say anymore and that Kurt wouldn't be upset.

"Of course," Kurt said, quietly. "You should go, absolutely." While his tone was light, his eyes were slightly saddened and Blaine nearly called the whole thing off. But what if Quinn showed up at the apartment? No, he would have to meet her.

Blaine was five minutes early after Kurt insisted that he leave after he had eaten and showered. Blaine ordered himself a coffee while he waited, stirring in the sugar more times than was necessary as he stared at the wall, deep in thought.

He would need to tell Quinn that he was out of the game. When he started this he was practically homeless, jobless, friendless and desperate. Now he had a job (it wasn't much, but it was something), had somewhere to live and he had Kurt. He didn't want to mess this up.

If Kurt ever found out about this Blaine was sure he would leave him. Leave him and then go straight to the Feds. It would be too much to explain, too much for Kurt to process. Blaine knew that Kurt loved him but they hadn't been together that long, their love wasn't that strong that Kurt could accept this.

He had been so preoccupied that he didn't notice Quinn slip into the chair opposite him. He blinked at her, shaking his head free of his thoughts as she reached forwards to take his mug and take a long drink from it.

"What did you tell him?" Quinn asked. She put the mug down in front of her, clearly not intent on giving it back. She didn't sound angry, more inquisitive, like she was treading water to see how Blaine would react or what he would say.

"That I was meeting my brother," Blaine said, a hint of annoyance in his tone. He furrowed his brows and asked, "What did you want to ask me?"

Quinn considered him for a moment, taking the time to sip at his coffee. "Mhm, needs more sugar," she said bitterly, pulling a face as she pushed the mug to one side. "I need your help finishing off my latest job."

Blaine's body tensed up, his jaw set as he said nothing.

Quinn frowned at him, clearly expecting him to ask her what the job was. She sighed and continued, as though he had. "Miss Rachel Berry. You know her?"

Blaine's mind flashed with images of a petit brunette in an array of various animal print jumpers. "The socialite? Her fathers' own the Berry Boutique, right?"

"The very same. You'd think she would dress better with her fathers' owning a clothing label," Quinn mused to herself. She shrugged and turned her attention back to Blaine. "We're going to some book launch on Friday and I need Charlie Andrews, Bartender for hire."

Blaine pursed his lips. Charlie Andrews was one of his identities he used for certain jobs. Seeing as many of his and Quinn's clients were rich, there was always a party or a benefit to go to and what better disguise than a bartender? Access all areas and easy enough to slip something into someone's drink without detection.

"I don't know," Blaine said, playing for time. "I was –" he shook his head, frowning at his hands as he laced his fingers together on top of the table.

"You was what?" Quinn pressed. When Blaine looked up she was staring at him intently, her eyes dark and unwavering.

Blaine wet his lips, taking a deep breath. "I was thinking of quitting," he said.

There was a long silence after his words; Quinn took one of the sugar packets, pouring the contents into the mug before stirring it and taking another sip. She hummed happily, holding the mug in both hands as she sighed, watching Blaine like a teacher who was about to tell off a student. "For him." It wasn't a question and her steady unsurprised tone startled Blaine.

He blinked, unsure of what to say. "Uh, yeah."

Quinn nodded, her expression free of emotion. "Jesse won't be happy," she said.

"No, he won't," Blaine agreed, scratching the back of his neck gingerly. He hoped that if Quinn knew about him and Kurt that she had a suggestion of what he could do. Jesse was unstable and he knew where he lived, Kurt lived and also where Kurt worked. He doubted he could convince Kurt to run with him without an explanation so he was stuck with no clear direction of where to go.

"The client for this Berry job, he's paying me a lot. If you do this one last job with me, I'll cut you in. Call it a wedding present," Quinn said, smirking.

"I don't know," Blaine said, uncertainly. His head was telling him that it was just one more job and that the money would really be useful now that Jesse wouldn't be paying him. But then his heart was aching, telling him no and you can't. If Kurt found out… but that was the brilliance of him and Quinn. No one ever found out. That's why they were the best.

"B, I'm sure you'd like to get out of that crappy apartment, maybe treat Hummel to something a little better than a hot dog in Times Square. The money I'm talking about is more than Jesse is paying you plus extra," Quinn said.

A flash of urgency crossed her features and Blaine realised that she needed him. The feeling tugged hard at his navel and made him recount their relationship; when she helped him off the streets, fed him, clothed him and helped him get back on his feet. Now that his life was stable again and he was ready to move onto the next chapter, he owed it to her.

"Okay. What do I need to do?"

Blaine had told Kurt that his brother wanted a movie night in, so he would come round the next day. He felt awful lying to him, but the promise of money and freedom soon soothed over his qualms about doing this.

The book party was for up and coming author who wrote a story about demons taking over Manhattan and the plucky young woman who was humanity's only hope. Blaine kept himself to the bar area, cleaning glasses while listening in on conversations from people who came up for drinks.

He was wearing a white button up under a red waistcoat and a black bow tie knotted around his neck. His hair was gelled down and was wearing a pair of thick glasses.

He scanned the room, looking for any sign of Quinn. He finally spotted her, talking to a man in a tailored suit, streaks of greys through his coiffed hair. She laughed, patting him on the chest before she caught Blaine's eye and excused herself.

"White wine," she said as she approached the bar.

"Yes, ma'am," Blaine replied, taking a fresh glass from the shelf. "You look good," he added quietly, giving her a nod of approval. She was wearing a floor length devil's red dress that hugged her hips and slid up to cup her chest in a way that had several men double taking as they passed her. Quinn smiled broadly in reply, her red lipstick making the smile even more striking than it was usually.

"Thank you. I forgot how good you look in glasses," Quinn said, returning the compliment. Blaine consciously adjusted his glasses and handed her the glass of wine. "Rachel is just powering her nose in the ladies. Do you have the vial?"

Blaine tapped the front of his apron. "Of course," he said. The plan was simple; add an undetectable poison to one of the ice cubes Blaine will put in Rachel's drink half way through the night and watch as she stumbles off as the poison starts to work slowly. Guests will assume she's drunk and by the time she's found, it'll be too late.

Quinn nodded before her attention was caught by a woman walking towards her. The infamous Rachel Berry, dressed in a long navy dress and wearing a bright toothy smile as she hurried over to Quinn. Her cheeks were flushed and Blaine was so distracted by her eyes that he almost didn't hear Quinn ask for another glass of wine. There was something behind those brown eyes, the way they twinkled when set on Quinn. It felt almost familiar.

"Hey," Rachel said, voice a little breathy. She reached out to run her fingers along Quinn's hand and ever the professional, Quinn smiled fondly back, her expression softening completely in Rachel's presence. It was like she was a different person, and Blaine guessed that when she was on a job, she was.

"Hey yourself," Quinn said. She handed Rachel one of the glasses of wine and added, "White okay?"

"Perfect," Rachel said. She sipped slowly, her eyes firmly on Quinn over the glass as she drank.

They finish their glasses at the bar and Blaine smiles to himself as he subtly watched them. You'd think they were long term lovers by the gentle touches Quinn gave and the shy smiles Rachel returned with. Blaine almost forgot what he was here for until Quinn's cell started to ring in her handbag.

"Shoot, I have to take this. It could be a long one, I'll find you later?" Quinn said, eyes darting between the phone and Rachel.

"Of course, I know how important your work is," Rachel said. She waved Quinn off as she answered the call, talking quickly as she slipped out of sight. Rachel sighed happily, taking a seat at the bar. "Can I have another please?"

Three drinks later and Blaine was finding Rachel's company delightful. She came off as a little spoilt at first but soon he found her endearing and sweet. She told him stories about her and Quinn, about growing up in New York and how she loved the theatre. She practically screamed when Blaine told her that he was dating Kurt Hummel.

"The Kurt Hummel?" Rachel asked, awestruck. "I love him! We'll have to double date, I won't hear no for an answer!"

Blaine laughed, nodding his head. "Sounds good."

Rachel suddenly looked surprised, like she had just come to a realisation about something. "I don't even know you're name. I can't keep calling you Barkeep."

"It's Cha-" he paused and wet his lips. "It's Blaine. My name is Blaine."

"It's nice to meet you, Blaine" Rachel said sincerely. She smiled warmly at him and so innocently that it caused a knot to form in his stomach.

"You really like Quinn, don't you?" Blaine asked before he could stop himself, his voice low and deep.

Rachel looked slightly taken back, but then placed a hand to her chest as she giggled. "Is it that obvious?" Her cheeks turned a rosy pink and she looked around shyly for a moment, a hint of mischief in her eyes. "Actually, I haven't told her yet… I was going to do it later tonight; tell her that I love her."

She looked so sure of herself, laying her heart on the line to a total stranger. Her smile reached right up to her eyes and she shuddered, like saying it out loud for the first time had sent a shiver throughout her entire body.

"Do you love Kurt?" Rachel then asked, like they were two old friends catching up on their busy lives.

"So much," Blaine said straight away, breathing out the answer like he had been holding it in, desperate to be able to say it to someone. The ache in his stomach took a hard twist as Rachel nodded happily in reply.

He couldn't do this. He picked up her empty glass and took it to the sink behind him. While Rachel was busy checking her reflection in her mirror, Blaine reached into the front pocket of his apron and quickly uncapped the vial, tipping its contents down the drain. His arms were shaking on either side of the sink as he held on and watched as the dark liquid wash away.

When he turned back round to Rachel he knew he must have looked a mess from the way she was looking at him. "Are you okay? You're white as a sheet," Rachel asked anxiously.

Blaine wiped his forehead on the back of his hand, feeling clammy sweat clinging to his skin. "I'm not feeling too well – bathroom," he said, excusing himself from the bar before Rachel could say anything else.

When he reached the bathroom, Blaine rubbed his palms over his face before splashing a hand full of water on himself. He looked up at the mirror at his pale complexion and his wide and wild eyes. Blaine was reminded of his first kill and how afterwards he threw up and almost had a panic attack right there in the beach house. But this was different. This was him actively ruining Quinn's job and possibly reputation and for what? So that poor misguided girl could carry on loving her and get hurt? Blaine chose a broken heart over one that stops beating at all.

This girl reminded him so much of Kurt, his Kurt. Their relationship was built on a lie too, but at least Blaine wasn't trying to kill him anymore. Blaine wondered after all of those stories Rachel told him whether Quinn had fallen in love with her too and would come up to him at the bar and stop him. She hadn't. She didn't love Rachel. She didn't love anyone.

Blaine took a deep breath and dried his face on a paper towel. He was about to leave the bathroom when the door was flung open and Quinn, face as red as her dress, stormed in and pushed him up against the wall. Her arm was placed across his throat and he could see the fire in her eyes as she stared him down.

"What the fuck?" Quinn snarled, her nostrils flaring. "Why is she still alive?" She spoke with such venom, almost spitting in Blaine's face.

"I couldn't do it," Blaine said, trying to hide the fear that was creeping up his spine.

Quinn pushed her arm harder against Blaine's windpipe, making him gasp. "You better have a good explanation, Anderson," she hissed.

"Quinn – I," Blaine choked. When his face started to colour, Quinn released her arm and paced back and forth. Blaine rubbed his throat and took a few calming breaths. "She loves you," he wheezed.

Quinn spun round. "And?"

Blaine frowned. "Don't you love her too?" he asked apprehensively, his stomach dropping.

Quinn laughed at this, high and piercing in a way that made Blaine's stomach coil uncomfortably. "We're not all sappy idiots like you. Of course I don't love her. She's a target, a job." Quinn walked up close to Blaine, who stepped backwards so he was flush against the wall again. "Just like Kurt," she said slowly, curling her lip at him.

"Kurt isn't a job," Blaine said firmly, trying to bring himself up to his full height. He may be short, but he was taller than Quinn.

"He was at the beginning," Quinn said, her voice dripping with malice. "Jesse paid you to seduce him and kill him and you couldn't even do that right." She shook her head disappointedly.

"We've slept together!" Blaine urged. "I got him into bed like I said I would." Blaine felt sick; talking about Kurt like he didn't matter, like he was only in this for the sex and that was it. He hated feeling like a failure and having Quinn question him like this set something off inside of him. Deciding not to go through with Kurt's murder was the first time since he moved to New York that Blaine had gone back on his word. And Andersons don't go back on their word.

"So what? He's still alive, isn't he? I should have known you couldn't do this job alone," Quinn said. She muttered the last line under her breath, but Blaine still heard it, turning up the fire under him.

"It isn't like that!" Blaine shouted, heat rising in his chest. "I was going to do it! I knew exactly how I was going to do it!"

"Then what stopped you?" Quinn shouted back.

"Him," Blaine almost bellowed. "Him," he said again quieter. "I love him, I can't – I can't hurt him." Blaine's jaw set tightly as he watched as Quinn took a deep breath through her nose and run her hand through her hair.

"Just go," Quinn said, her expression unreadable. Blaine blinked, opening his mouth before closing it. He pursed his lips and walked out, not looking back.

Quinn sighed and reached into her bra where she pulled out her cell phone, a cigarette and a lighter. Lighting the cigarette, Quinn took a long drag as she stopped her cell's voice recording application. Hitting her recently dialled numbers, someone answered after the tone rang barely twice.

"Fabray?"

"You were right, he didn't do it," Quinn said. She tapped the end of the cigarette over a flower pot by the sink, taking another drag. Quinn heard a sharp intake of breath but was met with silence. When the silence didn't break Quinn continued, "I recorded him like you asked."

"Excellent," Jesse murmured and Quinn wondered if he was talking to her to himself.

"What are you going to do with it?" Quinn asked curiously.

Jesse sneered sinisterly before answering, "I think it's time I had a little chat with Kurt Hummel."