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Title: D.A.L.T.O.N.
Fandom: Glee
Pairing: Kurt Hummel/Blaine, Brittany S. Pierce/Santana Lopez
Rating: R
Word Count: 12,100
Summary: Blaine is a student at D.A.L.T.O.N. Academy for Boys, a training ground for spies. Kurt is a criminal mastermind hellbent on destroying Canada. Naturally, they fall in love. Written for this prompt, requesting a D.E.B.S.!AU.

Inside the bank, Kurt is only watching his minions remove the money from the vault out of the corner of his eye. The bulk of his attention is focused on the mirror one lucky employee is holding out in front of him. He smoothes his hair down and tucks a strand of it behind his ear. A quick glance down at his clothes leaves him carefully brushing a stray piece of lint off the hem of his shirt. Satisfied, he turns to Santana, who is tapping her foot impatiently and looking like she wants to strangle him.

"Do I look okay?" he asks.

"I thought you didn't do blind dates," she tells him.

"'It's not a blind date if you know what they look like'," he quotes. "And besides, this isn't really a date. It's more like…"

"Kidnap," she supplies. "Which is exactly what he told you he hates. It's what D.A.L.T.O.N. did to him."

Kurt bites his lip and motions for his mirror-bearer to leave the two of them alone.

"I—I hadn't thought about that," he tells her.

"Yeah, well…you don't think about a lot of things. It's what you have me for. Are you sure you still want to do this?"

Kurt considers that, then says, "I still want time alone with him. But if he doesn't want to come this time, I won't make him."

"Kurt Hummel, I do believe you just grew up a little," she says, then adds, "excuse me while I go throw up in my mouth. You look great, by the way. If he doesn't fuck you where you stand, he's an idiot and we shouldn't be associating with him."

It takes Kurt a moment to work that out in his head, but he finally decides it's a compliment and heads off to his designated position.


When they reach the room with the vault, Blaine makes it half a step towards it before Wes grabs him back.

"Wait. It's a trap."

"What? Stop being paranoid."

"Are you crazy?" Wes asks, and his grip on Blaine's arm gets tighter.

"Why are you giving me such a hard time?" Blaine asks. "I'm sorry that Ms. Sylvester made me captain, but—"

"Blaine, I don't care if you're the Perfect Score, you don't have a lick of spy instinct. That's a trap."

Something in Blaine wants to snap and punch Wes in the face. He wonders if this is what Kurt feels all day, when he's working on his evil schemes or whatever it is that criminals do to pass the time. Maybe that's why Kurt is a bad guy. Maybe no one ever taught him how to suppress this impulse.

"As your senior officer, I order you to secure the vault, soldier," Blaine says firmly, and Wes looks exactly like Blaine feels.

"You order me?"

"I think I did," Blaine says, with fake confusion in his voice.

The vault is empty when they enter and he's fully ready to turn on the sarcasm, but then the floor opens up and swallows Blaine whole.


Kurt is waiting patiently when Blaine descends through the chute he had one of his minions install and lands on a pile of moneybags.

"Hi," Kurt says, and grins.

"What are you doing?"

"I thought we should talk about last night," Kurt says. "You seemed angry."

"Angry? Damn right I'm angry."

"Look, I'm sorry," Kurt insists. "I didn't mean to…I don't know, stress you out or anything."

"I'm not stressed out."

"I think you are."

A pause, then Blaine says, "Look, I know I freaked out on you last night, just—I didn't want you to get the wrong idea."

"The wrong idea?"

"Right. I mean, I like you. But—but this can't happen. Me cop, you robber. I'm good, you're evil. I put guys like you in prison. I don't—"

"Make like prison bunkmates with them?"

Blaine rubs at his temples. "I should—I should go."

"No," Kurt sighs. "I'll go. I promised myself that if you didn't want to come with me, I wouldn't make you. I'm not—I won't kidnap you anymore. You were right. That's creepy and wrong. I'd much rather you liked me on your own, anyway."

"I do like you."

Kurt takes Blaine's hand and kisses it just below his wrist. "I just—I wanted to try. Because last night was the happiest I've felt since everything fell apart. And I thought—I thought maybe you felt it, too. I'm sorry. I'll go."

He turns to go and he probably should be surprised when Blaine grabs his wrist, but he isn't. Everything about Blaine has felt magnetic since the first time they met, guns pointed at each other's chests. So he lets himself be pulled back, curls his fingers around Blaine's waist as he leans down to kiss him.

"You should—you should go," Blaine says in a shaky voice when they part. "You should—fuck, you really should go." His eyes are closed and his fingers are stroking over the base of Kurt's neck and it doesn't feel like a goodbye.

"Come with me," Kurt whispers. "Come on. What have you got to lose?"

"Everything," Blaine answers, but when Kurt takes his hand and starts to run through the halls towards the exit, Blaine follows.


Kurt makes Blaine sleep in a separate bedroom that night, even though Blaine practically paws at him the whole drive back to the lair. He says it's because he wants to do this right, wants to give Blaine what he's never had. Blaine says fuck that, he's a twenty-one year old man and he hasn't had sex since before he joined D.A.L.T.O.N. He wants cock and he wants it now.

But he regrets that the next day when Kurt takes him out on a date. It's not a dinner and a movie date, it's a full day of just hanging out and having fun. They go to the mall because Kurt's apparently crazy for clothes, and he buys Blaine the very first outfit Blaine has worn in four years that wasn't his D.A.L.T.O.N. uniform. Just changing into those clothes, just wearing something so un-standardized that he picked out for himself, is freeing.

Their next stop is a café, where Kurt promptly gets non-fat foam on his nose and looks far too adorable for a criminal mastermind.

They take a drive through the rural countryside, Kurt at the wheel and Blaine's head resting on Kurt's shoulder. Sometimes it's quiet, sometimes they talk, but most of the time, they sing to each other. Turns out, Kurt has a really great voice and they harmonize together beautifully.

"What song would you pick to sing to me?" Kurt asks, but Blaine can't think of a single answer.

"I don't know," he admits after careful consideration. "Why? What would you sing to me?"

"As much as I detest the woman behind the music, 'Teenage Dream,'" Kurt admits. "I know I'm not exactly a teenager anymore, but hey, neither is she."

Blaine grins uncontrollably and kisses Kurt on the cheek. "Sing it to me," he says, so Kurt does, and Blaine joins in on the chorus. He still doesn't know what song he'd pick for Kurt, but this one isn't half bad.


"You ever wonder what the secret test on the SAT measures?" Kurt asks that evening. He and Blaine are sitting on his bed, holding glasses of wine and pretending to drink. Mostly, they're just making out, but every now and then, they stop to talk. And he's always thought that D.A.L.T.O.N. students were…well, different than Blaine. He imagined cold-hearted jerks who could cheat and steal their way through tense, national security-related situations. Blaine isn't like that at all. He's warm and sweet and he likes Vogue and Patti Lupone, and Kurt can't figure out how Blaine was recruited to be a spy at all, much less got a perfect score.

"I don't know," Blaine answers. "Spy stuff, I guess."

Kurt frowns. He was kind of hoping for a better answer than that.


"Just…you've let this test decide your entire life, and you don't even know what it is."

"I—it's an aptitude test. It measured my aptitude. You should do what you're good at."

"No," Kurt counters, "you should do what you love. I'm an amazing fashion designer, but I do it because I have to for myself, because I hate everyone else's clothes. I don't love doing it. I love doing this. I'm not the best, but it's fun."

"So you think taking money from hard-working people is fun?"

"Why are you judging me?" Kurt asks. "I'm not the one who got picked out of millions of people to be a super-spy. I've never been perfect at anything."

"Yeah, well…me neither."

"So what do you love doing?" Kurt asks. "It's obviously not this."

"It doesn't matter," Blaine sighs. "With great power comes great responsibility. I don't get to do what I love until after I make the world safe from bad guys like you."

"Then why are you here?"

Blaine kisses him then, inexplicably and wonderfully. "Because," he says when they part for air. "I feel more like me when I'm with you than I do when I'm with…anyone."

He said, "with anyone," but Kurt heard "at D.A.L.T.O.N.," and he knows beyond any doubt that he's right.

So he kisses Blaine back, spreads him out on the sheets. He covers Blaine's body with his own, surrounding him and filling him and promising him a safe space to stop being the Perfect Score and to just be. It's been years since Kurt had sex but turns out, Santana was wrong because they haven't changed it a bit. Or if they have, Blaine's an old-fashioned kind of guy.

And when they finally collapse into the sheets, exhausted and sweaty and so damn happy that it's all Kurt can do not to scream it from the rooftops, he kisses Blaine tenderly and admits, "The thing is, Blaine, I'm kind of in love with you."

Blaine looks startled, but then a smile breaks out over his face.

"You do?"

"Yeah," Kurt promises. "Do you love me?"

But Blaine never gets to answer because the door flies open and Wes, David, and Brittany are standing there.


For a moment, it's like none of them know what to say. Then Blaine blurts out the first thing that comes to mind, just to break the tension.

"It's not what it looks like," he says, even though it is, and then it hits him.

He's looking at Brittany when the revelation comes, which is probably why it occurs to him. He doesn't stop to think, doesn't consider the consequences, doesn't worry about how Kurt might feel.

"I'm undercover," he tells them. "Thanks for blowing it."

He can see it on their faces, can see them coming to the realization that of course Perfect Score wouldn't betray them this way. Of course he had an ulterior motive. And when he risks a glance at Kurt's face, he sees it there, too.

They choose us based on our talents, too. I can sing, draw, and seduce men.

"No," Kurt says softly, and then stronger, "no. You're not—you don't—you're not like them. You're different. You don't even know why you got a perfect score. I—you—I love you."

With as much dignity as he can muster, Blaine grabs his clothes off the floor and tugs them on under the covers. Then he stands and takes his place with the other Warblers.

"That's the idea," he says, and leaves.

When they arrive back at the academy, Blaine really isn't surprised to find Ms. Sylvester there. He's not sure if Wes completely believes him or not—David definitely does, and even though Brittany's the only one who knows the truth, she seems unaware that she needs to have an opinion on the matter. But whether his teammates do or not, Coach Sylvester definitely doesn't.

"What the hell were you thinking?" she asks. "Running off with a known criminal? That's a felony. It's treason. Do you think this is going to help our relations with Canada? How does this make us look, hmm? We've been running a nation-wide manhunt for you and you're banging the prime suspect!"

"Coach Sylvester—" David interjects, but she shoots him a glare so fierce that Blaine's pretty sure every male in the room's balls just jumped up inside their bodies.

"If this were a mission, you should've checked in," she yells. "Say I believed that you weren't in love with him. Say I believed that you were doing this for God and Country. You still flouted every protocol in the book. You went rogue. You defied orders and placed yourself in danger."

"I—I wanted to be helpful," Blaine says weakly. "You said I was our leading expert on Kurt. I thought—you said I understood him. That he appreciated my pathos. I thought if anyone could get close to him and get information, it would be me."

She gives him a hard look in the eye and he knows, just knows, she's performing a human lie detector on him. After a moment, she nods. "Fine. So you're not a traitor. You're just a stupid child who flouts protocol by placing himself in danger without telling anyone and then costs this nation millions of taxpayer dollars as we try to clean up the mess. You're still an embarrassment."

"Ms. Sylvester—" Wes starts, and she shoots him the same glare she sent David. Wes doesn't back down, though. "This is still salvageable," he says. "No one knows what really happened. No one knows Blaine went rogue. We can fix this."


"Name Blaine student of the year at the talent show. Remind everyone that he's the poster boy. Tomorrow, we'll spread the rumor that Blaine was kidnapped and that Kurt tortured him. We'll say we rescued him just in the nick of time. He'll act traumatized, but strong. And when you name him student of the year, he'll give a speech about what it really means to be in D.A.L.T.O.N. And just like always, everyone will think he's a hero. Because he met Kurt Hummel and lived. Twice."

After a long moment, Coach Sylvester tells him, "That's so brilliant that I'm going to take credit for it. But I'll remember that when it comes time to select students to become Cheerios next year."

She disappears out of the room so fast that Blaine's head spins, and the next few days are a haze of lying through his teeth to his fellow students and yet more lying through his teeth to the higher ups when they vet him for information.

He gives a little—has to, or his cover will be blown—but he keeps back the important stuff, doesn't tell anything that could get Kurt caught without warning. He passes the lie detector test with flying colors.

Everyone tells him what a good spy he is, how brave and how maverick. For the first time in his life, he wasn't even trying, and he finally feels like maybe he was enough of a liar, cheater, and thief to warrant the praise.


Kurt is midway through aiming the satellite Sam hooked up for him—not as a personal favor, not after their disastrous date, but Santana worked something out and Kurt knows her well enough to know that he shouldn't ask questions—when Santana barges in, unplugs the control, and asks, "Is this really the time or place to destroy Canada?"

"Maybe. They have it coming."

"They do. But not because you're pissed at Blaine. You haven't even mentioned destroying Canada since you fell in love with him. You realize that?"

"I don't believe him," Kurt says finally. "I don't believe it was all a con. He loved me. I—I felt it."

"I'll bet you did."

"No," Kurt says seriously. "I did. When we were making love, I—I knew. I didn't need to ask. I don't know why I asked."

A long pause, then she says, "They're never going to be with us while we're criminals. They can't. Not in their nature."


"Blaine and Brittany."

He sighs. "I know. I know. You're right. They won't. Why are they such goodie-goodies?"

"Because they're honorable," she groans. "So…I guess this is the part where we decide if we love them or crime. We have to choose."

"Blaine," Kurt says without hesitation, and she nods her agreement.

"Okay," she sighs. "I'll start wiring the money back to the people we stole it from."

"Thank you," Kurt whispers, and she punches him on the arm. "Don't be a sap, Hummel," she tells him. "We're still bad asses, even if we are going legit."

Kurt grins at her and asks, "Can you hack me into the registration system for the SAT? I want to take it."

(Kurt takes the test that Saturday. He is thrown out for trying to cheat his way into D.A.L.T.O.N. He never said his going legit would be perfect. It's a process.)

After they've returned all the money and Kurt has spray-painted, "BLAINE BE MINE," on the D.A.L.T.O.N. front lawn, and he still hasn't heard from Blaine, he's feeling more or less defeated. But Santana Lopez has never once been defeated in her life and she grins at him with a fierce, terrifying, amazing determination in her eyes.

"Time for Plan B," she tells him, and even though he has no idea what Plan B is, he has a feeling that it's going to be big, it's going to be crazy, and it's going to work.


A few hours before the talent show, Blaine is sitting alone in his room, knees curled up to his chin. Brittany is in the bathroom, still getting ready, and Blaine's nerves are so frazzled that the knock on their door makes him nearly jump out of his skin.

"Come in," he calls, once he's calmed down.

Mr. Schue walks in and smiles at him warmly. "How're you doing, Blaine?"

"All right. I guess."

Mr. Schue takes a seat on the edge of the bed and says, "Blaine…I just wanted you to know that I've found that love doesn't work out very well in this business."

"Why not?"

"Because love requires trust, and trust requires honesty. And that's not something spies are big on."

Yeah, seriously.

"Mr. Schue?"


"What does the secret test hidden in the SAT measure?"


"This test decided my whole life and I don't even know why I got a perfect score. What was it measuring?"

Mr. Schue seems to be considering whether or not he should answer that, then he finally admits, "The secret test hidden in the SAT measures your ability to lie."


"Perfect score, perfect liar. Blaine, we can teach people how to karate chop an opponent unconscious. We can teach them how to load and fire a gun in two seconds flat. We can teach them criminal psychology. But the one thing we cannot teach, the one thing that is absolutely innate, is a person's ability to lie. And you, Blaine, are the perfect liar. Your ability to lie is so complete, you could lie to yourself and not even realize it." He pauses, then adds, "And I think you saw that when you passed all of our lie detector tests, didn't you?"

Blaine doesn't answer. He just stares down at his feet.

"Thanks, Mr. Schue," he says instead.

"You're welcome. And do me a favor?"


"Try to have fun tonight at the talent show. It only comes once a year and I've never seen you happier than when you're up there performing. You've got a beautiful voice, Blaine. Never be afraid to use it."

Blaine stares at him, stunned, and then says, "Thank you, Mr. Schuester," far more sincerely than he had only moments before. Schue nods, and leaves.


"What's the plan?" Kurt asks as he spreads out a schematic of D.A.L.T.O.N. Academy.

"We'll infiltrate through the roof, here—" Santana says as she points out the location on the diagram. "There will be guards, so we'll have to take them out."


"Unfortunately," she sighs. "I've got tranquilizer lip-balm on, so shouldn't be too difficult to get them to kiss me. We'll enter through the air vents after that, repel down the elevator here, and then drop down backstage here."

"And then?"

"Then we make them love us."

"Right. Simple," Kurt mutters, and rolls the schematic back up.


"Change of plans," David says, rushing into the tiny room the Warblers have been sequestered into until it is their time to perform. "We can't sing 'God Bless the USA. I was just walking past Vocal Adrenaline's practice room, and I heard them singing it."

"But—but we've been rehearsing that song for weeks!" Wes huffs. "How did they—"

"I told them," Brittany says brightly. Off their looks, she protests, "What? They asked."

"Shit," Wes mutters. "Fuck, what are we going to sing now? We don't have another number prepared."

In the silence that follows, Blaine thinks back to a car ride through the countryside, to a boy singing him a song. He thinks of harmonizing, of feeling like himself, he thinks of being free. And he finally, finally knows what song he wants to sing to Kurt Hummel.

"I do," Blaine says, and pulls out his iPod. "Hurry, guys, we have to rehearse this quick."


When Kurt hears the bongos, the first thing he thinks is that one of the other squads is performing an offbeat, but charming, Beach Boys number. Then he hears the bad poetry. Calling this event a year-end talent show was clearly a misnomer. He shakes his head and keeps crawling through the air vents until he and Santana finally find an empty room backstage to drop into. Great. Now to find Blaine and Brittany without being spotted.


Blaine thinks this would probably work better with a larger group, but Brittany is surprisingly good at keeping the beat and Wes and David's voices are perfect for a cappella. When he starts to sing, he's looking out at the audience, at no one's face in particular. And then he turns, and sees Kurt standing there in the wings next to Santana. He nudges Brittany and before he can think to stop her, she's running off stage and throwing herself at Santana. For some reason, Blaine stays and keeps singing, straight to Kurt.

"I knew I wouldn't forget ya, and so I went and let you blow my mind," he sings, and Kurt's beaming at him, and bouncing along to the beat, and Blaine just keeps singing.

"I knew when we collided, you're the one I have decided is one of my kind."

Blaine's about halfway through the chorus when Kurt steps out onto the stage, harmonizing with him like that day in the car.

And then, almost as if they'd practiced it, as if they were in perfect sync and always had been, Blaine's solo becomes a duet.

"So gangsta, I'm so thug. You're the only one I'm dreaming of," Kurt sings to him, and they're moving closer and closer to each other as the song progresses, destined to meet up in center stage.

"You see, I can be myself now finally, in fact there's nothing I can't be. I want the world to see you be with me," Blaine sings, and they finally meet in the middle.

Blaine lets Wes and David take over the final chorus because Kurt's arms are around him and they're kissing, right there in front of the entire D.A.L.T.O.N. Academy.

When they break apart, the song has finally finished and Blaine freezes, unsure of what he's supposed to do. Then Wes hisses, "Run. We'll cover for you. And take Brittany, too."

Blaine grips Kurt's hand tightly and they run—grabbing a rumpled-looking Santana and Brittany as they go—through the halls. Blaine takes a shortcut to avoid their pursuers, cutting through a storage area and making a break for it out the service exit. They reach Kurt's car with only seconds to spare and the four of them peel out of there, not slowing down until they hit the open road.

In the back seat, Brittany is resting her head on Santana's shoulder and even though Blaine can tell she'd never do it if she knew he was watching, Santana smiles at her and runs her fingers through Brittany's hair.

Blaine turns his attention back to Kurt, grinning right back at him when he finds that Kurt is looking at him like Blaine is the best thing to ever happen to him.

"I love you," Blaine says softly. "I know I'm a liar, but I really mean that."

"I know," Kurt tells him. "I knew all along. Now turn on the radio. It's not a proper getaway without tunes."

Blaine does and the four of them spend the next three hours driving toward Canada and singing along with the radio in perfect harmony.

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