Disclaimers: I don't own, just playing in Glee's sandbox.

Author Notes: At the end of June, I decided to set myself a challenge. And the challenge is simple, every day in the month of July, I will post a piece of fanfiction or a piece of fanart (which coincides with one of the pieces of writing) to my tumblr related to my Glee OTPs and World War II.


The Man Who Came in From the Cold

American-controlled borough, Berlin, Germany, 1957

He shouldn't have been in the pub, but like a sirens call, it drew him in, and he was powerless to stop it. Not that he wanted to, once he caught a small and tantalizing glimpse of the beautiful boy whom seemed to own the dance floor. His hips swayed and jived to the beat of the American rock; a sound so foreign to the older man, a sound which went against everything he had been taught. But none of that matter, he would happily listen if it meant the boy would continue to dance, continue to entice him with his pale skin, his bluish-green eyes, and his lithe body.

Shaking his head to clear it, Dave flagged down the bartender, ordering himself a drink before going to find a table, so he could further enjoy the sight of the young man so sinfully dancing with his young dark-skinned female. Dave was enjoying the dance, until the beat changed, then the boy stopped dancing; instead walking towards the bar for another drink.

Deciding to take a chance, because he figured he would never have another one; Dave followed the teenage boy to the bar, watching the boy as he took a long pull from his pint glass in a manner that most would call obscene, the tip of his head allowed Dave to see the pale column of the boy's neck as it meet his collar bone. Licking his lips, Dave turned his head away to give himself a moment; he had been warned about the interrogation techniques of the enemy, but Dave had never expected that one boy could get his heart racing and his blood boiling with just his presence. Dave knew that if he didn't get his libido under control, he was in a world of hurt and not from the enemy, but from his own people, the KGB.

He was Dave Karofsky, a young KGB operative, who could not afford not to complete his mission. The objective was simple, gather Intel on the United States and its allies within the borders of West Berlin. The young Russian had been trained by the finest members of the Kremlin to withstand torture techniques and blind into the population of Germans and former Allies who lived within the borders of West Berlin. But one boy was threatening to change all of that, and Dave hadn't even heard the boy speak yet.

With his head still turned away, Dave watched the boy from the corner of his eye. Watching as the brunette talked with the bartender in German. For Dave, German was one of those languages that sounded angry all the time, no matter who the speaker was, the tempo was harsh and the words very heavy on the tongue; but listening to the words as they flowed from the pert month of the teenager, Dave was in love with the language. There was no harshness in the words; the language was light and airy, sounding almost as though the brunette was singing. Smiling to himself, Dave set back on his barstool, to enjoy the sound of the youth speaking and laughing with the bartender.

"Do you usually make it a point to listen in on other's conversations?"

Dave jerked at the sound of the voice in his ear. Spinning on his stool, he looked at the young brunette who had addressed him. The boy was smiling at him, obviously pleased with himself at having effectively scared the other man out his head.

Dave stayed silent for a moment, trying to wrap his head around the words the boy had just spoken in German. As Dave tried to get his brain to corporate and translate, a frown began to appear on the boy's face as the minutes passed. After what seemed like a small lifetime to the boy, but was only a few minutes he tried his question again in English, thinking that maybe the man standing before him didn't speak German.

"Do you usually make it a point to listen in on other's conversations?"

It was the language and not the words that seemed to flip a switch in Dave's head, and he was finally able to answer the enticing creature in front of him.

"No, not usually." Dave replied. The words tasted strange in Dave's mouth, even though his father had taught him English from childhood, anticipating the day that Dave would join the KGB and serve a greater purpose to the Kremlin.

"Oh." The boy said with a laugh, "you do speak."

Dave regarded the boy for a second, "Let me ask this, do you usually make it a point to talk to strangers in a pub."

The boy out right laughed at Dave's question, finding humor in how the older man threw his own wording back at him. "My name's Kurt. And you are?"

"David…Dave."

"Well there you go, David…Dave, we are no longer strangers." Kurt said, grinning at Dave as he held out his hand for Dave to shake.

Dave returned the smile; the boy's...no Kurt's, general disposition seemed to be infection and at the moment, it wasn't a disease that Dave was willing to cure. Grasping the teenager's hand in his, Dave gave it a light squeeze before releasing it, but not before noticing how smooth and soft it felt against the hard ridged calluses of his own hands.

"May I buy you a drink?"

Kurt looked at the man in front of him, weighing his options. The man was handsome even if he was a little older than the guys Kurt normally dated, but his eyes were kind and he had a nice smile, so Kurt was willing to give him a chance. "Alright."

Dave smiled at Kurt's reply. He was breaking the rules, he was taking a chance that could ruin him, but he didn't care. This boy was cute, sweet, funny, and everything that Dave could wish for in a person…a male person that is. He worked for the KGB and homosexuality wasn't in their mission statement, and Dave was 99.9% sure the Kremlin would have some strong words along with a strong approach about an agent liking the same-sex.

Flagging the bartender down, Dave ordered two pints of lager for them before motioning Kurt towards the table near the door that he had previously occupied. Dave followed behind a few minutes later carrying their drinks. Sliding into the chair across from Kurt, Dave handed over the teenager's pint, allowing his fingers to brush against the other man's and holding for longer than necessary. Kurt pulled his hand away, a faint blush upon his cheeks; a look that Dave thought may the boy look even more beautiful in the dying light of the day.

"So where are you from?" Kurt asked, "You're obviously not German, because you took a little too long in responding to my question the first time. And I don't think you're American; you're accent doesn't sound like the American GIs or the businessmen that live on this side of the 'wall'."

Dave raised an eyebrow at how quick Kurt seemed to jump into conversation, a trait that Dave found mildly enduring and mildly suspicious. But he brushed it off, he was going to enjoy his evening with this boy, tomorrow his mission would begin, and this wonderful teenager would be only a memory.

At seeing the eyebrow, Kurt back peddled. "Sorry, my father says that my mouth tends to run away from me, and I know I have a problem with sometimes with not checking it before I speak. I don't mean to make you uncomfortable if I am."

"No, it's alright, a little forward but perfectly alright." Dave responded. "And no, I'm not German nor am I American, French actually." He supplied, having to change his cover story a little. Originally, he was supposed to be American, but obviously his accent wasn't even good enough to fool a German teenager.

"Oh, French. I've always wanted to go to Paris;" Kurt gushed, "but my father has told me no…or at least until I can pay for it myself." He finished, making a face at the idea of having to pay for the trip himself. "So where in France are you from?"

Dave chuckled at the enthusiasm of the teenager; it was a feeling that he hadn't had for a long time, which wasn't surprising considering his line of work. It was kind of difficult to be enthusiastic when his entire job was focused around lies and espionage.

"Normandy." Dave replied, choosing the first region of France that came to mind, which he would later regret due to the next words that can out of Kurt's month.

"Normandy. Really? Does that mean you remember when the American GIs landed on its beaches? Sorry, sorry. Strange question, I know. My friend, Mercedes," Kurt said pointing at the dark-skinned girl that he had been dancing with earlier, "says that I have a strange fascination with American GIs. She thinks it's the uniform, and finds it a little creepy, considering her father is one of those American GIs. I asked my father about it and he thought it was probably connected to seeing the American GIs as they advanced into Germany." Kurt rolled his eyes at his last remark before continuing. "But between you and me, I think I have a greater fascination with the Red Army. I was little when they won Berlin, but I remember their uniforms and this nice soldier who gave me his rations in exchange for my father repairing his armored car. He had a lovely smile, even if I didn't understand him."

Part 2

Dave stayed quiet as Kurt talked, letting the other man's words wash over him. While the idea of a member of the Soviet army being nice to the enemy sounded a little abnormal, Dave thought the sentiment of the story was sweet.

"I won't tell anyone that you like Communists." Dave said, winking at Kurt.

Kurt's cheeks heated at Dave's wink. "I didn't say that I liked Communists; I just said I had a fascination with them in their uniforms."

After taking a pull from his pint, Dave decided that it was his turn to ask some questions. "So I take it with the way you talk, that you are originally from Berlin?"

"Well, not exactly. I was born a few miles south of the city. My parents moved to Berlin at the start of the War. They thought it would be better, plus, it meant a better job for my father, he's a mechanic. But I don't remember the small town we are originally from, so…Berlin is the only home I've every really known."

"Living in Berlin doesn't sound too bad from what I've seen." Dave remarked.

Kurt shrugged at the statement, "I mean don't get me wrong, it's nice and all, much better than during the war; but all the different boroughs is just confusing. Yes while easy to travel between, much easier than the Soviet's Berlin, it's still a pain."

Dave nodded his head in agreement, even though he didn't really understand the issues that Kurt was talking about; but he chose to take the teenager's word for it and not question it.

Kurt looked at Dave for a few minutes in silence, taking in the other man's broad shoulders and gorgeous green eyes, two physical qualities that he found very attractive. Dave was a little on the silent side, but not being a talker wasn't always a bad thing. And if this meeting turned into something more than he could live with that. Shaking his head to clear it, Kurt told himself that he needed to stop getting ahead of himself. Getting ahead of himself was what happened with the last man that had struck his fancy, and that relationship hadn't ended well.

Blaine hadn't been able to handle being cutoff from the family fortune and had happily gone back to his family to marry the ghastly girl they had picked out for him, some girl named Rachel Berry…even her name sounded horrible. Kurt might have shed a few tears at the relationship ending, just as he might have broken Blaine's nose with the mean right-hook that his father had taught him, but that was neither here nor there.

"What's with the smirk?"

"Just thinking about something, it always brings a smile to my face."

"Want to share?" Dave asked, wondering what could possibly bring such a devilish smile to an angelic face.

"Are we flirting?" Kurt wondered aloud, needing to know the answer before he revealed why he was smiling.

"I'd like to think so," Dave responded, his brows coming together as though the question was difficult to answer.

"Good. I was thinking about my ex and how I punched him when he left me to marry a girl."

"Really…he left a gorgeous creature such as yourself to marry a girl?" Dave questioned, not really understanding how the ex could choose a girl over Kurt.

"Flattery will get everywhere, well, after date 6 at least. I'm not that kind of boy. But to explain, his family was rich, and they cut him off when he brought me home to meet the family. He was alright with being penniless for the first couple of weeks, but then lack of money and the stress of trying to find employment made his true colors come out. So he left me, renounced his homosexuality and as of 3 weeks ago is now married to an annoying girl named Rachel Berry." Kurt told the other man, before taking a long drink of his rapidly warming pint. At tasting the warming lager, he pulled a face at the slight grossness.

"He's an idiot, and it's his lost."

Kurt smiled at the honesty in Dave's voice, happy that the other man found him attractive and agreed that Blaine was stupid to choose a girl over him. Deciding to take a chance, Kurt grabbed one of Dave's hands, pulling it off the table as he laced their fingers together to rest on his thigh. The older man's hand was large and warm; causing a shiver to run down Kurt's spine as he mind drifted to what that hand would feel like on his body. Kurt felt his neck and cheeks redden as the thought ran through his head, and Kurt knew that he needed to stop that train of through before he embarrassed himself in front of the other man.

Dave gazed at the teenager, noting the blush in Kurt's cheeks and how it traveled down the pale column of his throat. The Russian licked his lips involuntary; the image alone made him wish he could just reach over and follow the coloring with his tongue. Taking a deep breath, Dave watched as Kurt's friend approached their table, hoping that her appearance would break up the sexual tension swirling around the pair.

"You ready to go, Kurt? I have to be home by curfew. Or my mom will kill me." The girl, Mercedes, asked; Dave noticed that her accent was American, almost spot on, so he concluded that most likely she had been raised in the states.

Kurt looked at Dave, as though the older man held the answer to the question. Just as he opened his mouth to respond that no he wasn't ready to go, Mercedes cut him off. "Actually, boy, you don't get a choice. You're dad said you have to be at the shop early tomorrow before you head off to courses. So we need to go."

Kurt smiled apologetically at Dave at his friend's bluntness. "Looks like my evening has come to an end; I had a lot of fun, Dave and I hope that we can meet again. Say seven, tomorrow, here?"

Dave nodded in agreement to Kurt's statement, knowing that if he opened his mouth, he wouldn't be able to lie to the teenager. He had broken the rules and got too close, but in hindsight, Dave didn't regret it. The memory of this night, of this boy would carry Dave through the long Germany winter.

Kurt bid Dave goodbye with a squeeze of his hand, and a discreet kiss on the cheek, before following Mercedes out of the bar and into the cooling night air. As Dave watched the pair go, he hoped that he would have the opportunity to see that boy again, even if it was only from a distance, because seeing him from a few hundred yards was better than never laying eyes upon the teenage boy again. Draining his pint, Dave pushed out his chair and rose, throwing a few coins on the table as tip. Looking around the pub one last time, he pushed the door open and stepped out into the night; he knew that he was a different man than when he entered and he didn't think that was a bad thing at all.


Accompanying Art: http:/ pics. livejournal. com/ lil_grl_lost/ pic/ 0000egqp /