Title: How To Save A Life
Author: PuppeteerofLife, aka xlifelongsorrowx
Pairing: Kurt/Blaine
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Possible triggers, mentions of non-con, mentions of child prostitution, dub-con
Spoilers: None
Word Count: 2,500
Summary: When Special Agent Blaine Anderson is used as the distraction in an operation to stop a child prostitution ring, he certainly didn't expect to engage in activities with Kurt Hummel. And he especially didn't expect to fall in love with his boss' teenage son.
Prompt: Written for this prompt at glee_kink_meme: Burt, Blaine and several others are special agents working on gang people responsible for child prostitution and it looks like one of those children is Burt's kidnapped very long time ago son.

Burt had given him a week off of work. Which was good, because Blaine was planning on asking for that anyways. Just being in Burt's presence, knowing that he had watched him give his son a blowjob made things awkward enough. He knew things would be a big pile of awkward around the office for a while, but he wanted at least a week's time of a break, before diving into that shit.

But it seemed that whatever deity was watching him from above hated him, because the team's secretary, Lucy, had called with his first assignment he had to get to on Monday. And when he heard what it was, he promptly banged his head against his kitchen table.

His job was to go to the Hummel household and check up on Kurt.

Just because he was the only one with a degree in psychology, Blaine had suddenly been appointed the office 'therapist'. Sure he had gotten a double major, but it was only to appease his parents! He didn't want the fucking degree, it could go to hell for all Blaine cared. It seemed that it only landed him in deeper shit, from disappointing his parents when he refused to become a shrink, to ensuring that his whole plan of never seeing Kurt Hummel again would be shot to hell.

Blaine felt so dirty. He had spent his first day off of work taking numerous showers, and his second day getting completely wasted. The third day he had spent the morning throwing up the alcohol, and the afternoon showering again.

He had fucked with a teenager. He had given his boss' seventeen year old son a blowjob. But the worst part was the fact that every night, Blaine would dream of Kurt, and doing it all again, albeit under better circumstances.

Blaine didn't know what that made him. A pedophile? A man, human? He was so screwed up, he could hardly even process all that had happened. He didn't know if the dreams were because he had gone twenty one years of life without any sort of consensual sexual activities, or because Kurt was just that damn hot. Probably a little bit of both. But that still didn't make it any more right.

So Blaine had taken to avoiding sleep. During college he had dealt with issues of insomnia, and Blaine hadn't ever wanted to return to that phase of his life. But he didn't want to have those dreams either. He should not be thinking about his boss' son like that! He should not be jerking off to the image of Kurt like that, yet he was.

It was just so wrong. Blaine was four years older than Kurt, yet every time he thought of that fact, his mind would summon the argument that four years was nothing in comparison to the ten years of an age gap between his parents. But still, Kurt was a minor. The last time he had seen his friends or family, he had been thirteen.

Who the hell even knew what Kurt was thinking? He must be so broken, so hurt from all the damage inflicted onto him by people over the years. And Blaine had just made it worse. From Kurt's perspective, it was his father's co-worker, who had paid money to have sex with him. How sick was that?

But he wasn't going to be allowed to leave Kurt alone to heal in peace. No, he was going to have to make it worse, to open that cut back up every week, and pour salt in the wound. Did Burt even know about this? Blaine couldn't imagine that he wanted his son spending time with his co-worker whom he had been sexually active with before. Private time. Time alone, in Kurt's room, talking about his feelings and what had happened to him.

When would this shit stop happening to Blaine?

All Kurt knew was that someone was coming to talk to him today. He wasn't particularly looking forward to it. He was still adjusting to life back at home. It seemed like ever since that night, his life had just been a blur of sobbing people, flashing lights, and tight hugs. The last image Kurt could remember with pure clarity, was of the dark haired agent, lips red and swollen from sucking him off, eyes wide, and mouth open, shocked to have found out that he had given a blowjob to his boss' son.

Kurt dreamed about that night every time he closed his eyes and went to sleep. Which was quite often. Whenever he didn't like the subject, he feigned exhaustion, a trick he had learned during his four years in that horrible prostitution business.

He felt so many emotions towards that agent, Blaine Anderson, he had said his name was. So many emotions were tied in with that name that Kurt didn't even know how to feel about him. For one, Blaine was the first person to ever do anything sexual for him. Four years in the business of giving people sex for money, and he had received his first blowjob from one of his father's agents.

He had been so gentle with Kurt, so slow, so sweet. Thinking of that made Kurt's heart beat a little faster, and sometimes stop altogether. Thinking of how special that had been for him made him smile, think that maybe there was hope for him.

But then remembering that Blaine had apologized for it afterwards. He had said that it was just on orders. He had implied that he never would have had sex with Kurt otherwise.

The rational part of Kurt knew that it was because he was an adult, and Kurt was just a stupid kid, but his rational side had long ago been drowned out by the self esteem issues that business had given him. The kind of men that he had been with were not ones to whisper sweet nothings in his ear, rather speak harsh criticisms in their coarse, scraggly, drunken voices. How he wasn't thin enough, how he wasn't small enough. They wanted someone that could remind them of a woman, so they could pretend they were straight. No matter that Kurt could count his ribs, or that the lack of sunlight had stunted his growth, and made his porcelain skin practically glow. He wasn't good enough. He just wasn't enough. And the nicest person to ever be with him, the person to come and save him, had reinforced that idea.

"Kurt! The agent is here to see you!"

Kurt sighed, and finished examining his imperfections in the mirror. He didn't understand why an agent had to come and speak to him. He was already speaking to a doctor every week, and a therapist every two days. Why did he have to talk to an agent too?

He examined himself in the mirror. He wanted to just toss on a baggy shirt, to cover how thin he truly was, but he was already wearing skinny jeans. Size zero skinny jeans. He had already listened to one of the Cheerios in the glee club gush enviously about how skinny he was. But he wasn't thin enough yet.

Knowing that he needed a tight shirt to go with his ensemble, Kurt grabbed a black skin tight long sleeved shirt, and added a silver vest and tie. The shirt still hung off his wrists a little, but it did nothing to convince Kurt of his weight. He wasn't perfect yet. Not according to the one person who had ever mattered.

Blaine waited at the kitchen table awkwardly, sipping some coffee that Carole Hudson-Hummel had prepared for him. There was another mug staring at him from across the table, at the seat that Kurt would obviously occupy. Burt was out on a case, both a blessing and a curse in Blaine's opinion.

He was about to tell Carole that he would come back at another time (he wouldn't) when he heard the light pad of footsteps up the stairs. The door leading somewhere downstairs opened, and Kurt entered into the living room. Thankfully, Carole was not facing him, and Kurt was focused on anything but him, so neither of them saw Blaine's jaw drop.

The beautiful boy he had seen a week ago in that dark, dingy hotel room, had nothing on this gorgeous angel now. All the dirt had been cleaned off of Kurt, his messy hair had been combed and styled. His porcelain skin practically glowed, his blue eyes shined brightly.

But as Blaine's eyes raked over Kurt's outfit, he immediately noticed how disturbingly thin Kurt was. He did not resemble an anorexic stick, he actually looked quite good, but Blaine knew that someone of his height and age should not be that skinny. It was unhealthy.

Finally, the seventeen year old met Blaine's eyes, and Blaine saw so many emotions in them, it was impossible to decipher just one of them. Kurt slowly walked to the table at sat down. The coffee cup in front of him remained untouched.

"You should eat something." Blaine said, if only to break the awkward, tense silence. "You probably haven't been eating well for the past few years."

Kurt shrugged his small delicate shoulders. "I'm not hungry. It's what happens when your stomach shrinks to the size of a bean. You can only eat so much."

Blaine winced. He knew that Kurt was simply being blasé, he had read the teens psychological analysis. It had said he used sarcasm and blunt statements as a defense mechanism. Yet it couldn't help but feel like he was personally attacking Blaine, as if he was accusing the man of taking too long to save him. And Blaine had just made it worse. He knew now, that he was emotionally attached to this boy, and he had no idea how this was going to work out, especially if his dreams about Kurt persisted.

"So how have you been holding up since being back home?" Blaine's tone was cheery and bright, as fake as the artificial flavoring in Kool Aid.

The boy stirred his coffee wordlessly with his long delicate finger. Blaine was distracted for a moment, thinking about how it would feel to have those beautiful, delicate fingers wrapped around his cock. Blaine promptly choked on his coffee.

Kurt looked up. "Coffee not to your taste?"

Blaine swallowed, his skin turning slightly red. "Um, no, no it's fine. I'm usually one for a medium drip, but this is great."

Kurt nodded, and sighed. "I'm fine. Still adjusting to not having someone fuck me roughly several times a day, but it's an ongoing process."

Once again Blaine found himself choking on his coffee, feeling like he was the teenager and Kurt was the adult. Weren't teenagers supposed to be awkward and uncertain? But he had to remind himself that Kurt was not just any teenager.

"Can I ask you a question? A personal one?" Without waiting for an answer, Kurt asked it, resulting in Blaine spitting out his coffee for the third time in the past ten minutes. "We had sex. Not actual intercourse, but still sex. Did that mean anything? Or was it just business?"

How the hell was Blaine supposed to answer that?

"It was just business."

Kurt's face paled, and for a fleeting moment, a look of such hurt passed over it. Blaine could practically see the heartbreak on his face, and he immediately began slapping himself mentally. How could he be so stupid? Why had he told such a lie?

"That's all I needed to know."

With that Kurt stood up and practically fled down the stairs. Blaine stood and looked around for Carole, but realized she had retreated up the stairs to the room she shared with Burt. Taking a deep breath, Blaine prepared himself for what was to come.

Kurt knew it was stupid. Why would the tall, handsome, kind agent feel anything for him? Why would he have enjoyed that night at all? Kurt was seventeen years old, he had been told repeatedly that he was a failure to satisfy. Why would he think that Blaine was any different?

Yet here he sat, sobbing on his bed, trying to hold back the tears. The strangled sobs escaped the barrier of his lips against his will. He didn't even hear the door to the basement open. He didn't even know Blaine was in his room until he was at the base of the stairs.

"Kurt?" He called quietly, and Kurt's head snapped up. Seeing the sad look on Blaine's face, he choked down another sob. "What do you want?"

He saw Blaine took a deep breath, and he listened carefully as he began to speak.

"I was told to be the distraction. I was told I had to stall as long as possible, and if that meant having sex with whoever it was, than so be it. I was against it. I didn't want to hurt anyone even more. I don't believe in sex with no emotional attachments. But I had to follow orders. It wasn't supposed to mean anything."

Kurt started crying for real, tears escaping his bright blue eyes. "T-than leave. Just leave, okay? I-I don't want y-you around. I-I may just be some-some stupid kid to you, but y-you were the only one who-who…" Kurt trailed off, his tears choking the words he was too humiliated to speak.

Blaine moved closer, and cupped Kurt's chin in his hands, just like he had done that fateful night one week ago. "It wasn't supposed to mean anything. But it did."

Kurt's eyes widened, and before he knew it, Blaine had crossed the distance between their lips. Blaine was kissing him. Blaine Anderson, his father's twenty one year old co-worker, who had given Kurt a blowjob on his father's orders, was kissing him, seventeen-year-old Kurt Hummel, former prostitute, because he wanted to.

It was just sad to think that this was the least screwed up kiss Kurt had ever experienced.