A/N: Hi. I know it's been forever. I swear I'm working on LAOS. I just wanted to ease myself back into the writing mood, hence this drabble.
I know nothing about cars, but this one is focused on Kurt's mechanic side so whatever I've said that is wrong, I blame on artistic freedom and mechanical ignorance. If you see anything that needs fixing, please feel free to let me know about it.
This ended up being waaaay longer than I expected.
Kurt Hummel has been helping out at his father's business, Hummel Tires and Lube, since he was capable of walking, talking, and safely handling a monkey wrench. His mother had never really been a fan of her two favorite boys bringing automobile grease and oil into her home before they had a chance to clean up fully, but she did love seeing her two boys smiling and laughing after a long Saturday filled with stories regarding regular customers and hapless new ones.
So when Elizabeth Hummel passed, Kurt made even more of an effort to spend time at the garage on the weekends. Not only did it help keep his mind off things, but it felt good to spend more time with his dad, to enhance upon the one thing he felt they really had in common. By the time Kurt hit high school, he could fix basically any domestic car model and even a few imports. He could change a flat tire, replace a transmission, or pinpoint the exact problem when a customer reported their car making a certain noise. In time he became knowledgeable enough to convince Burt to take a few hours off every now and then, despite Burt's grumbling protests that he didn't need any time off, he wasn't that old.
Now it was summer vacation for his junior year of high school and Kurt decided to work the garage for a week straight in order to save up some funds for an out of town shopping expedition with Mercedes. He had been doing some research online and apparently one of the bigger mall in Columbus was having an extraordinary sale and Kurt refused to miss out. His dad had already agreed, with the stipulation that Kurt call when he arrived and when he was returning home as well as texting once every hour he was away. Kurt himself had considered it a bit much, but he knew Burt loved him and had an adorable overprotective streak concerning his only son. It felt nice to be cared about, to be loved, so Kurt put up with his father's sometimes annoying tendencies with a sense of fondness.
"Kurt?" one of the shop's employees called out, breaking Kurt from his inner thoughts. He realized then he had drifted off while staring down at a page of inventory regarding spark plugs.
"Yeah?" Kurt called back, straining his ears to hear the voice over the busy sounds of the garage.
"Someone in the front," replied a voice. Sounded like Kevin maybe. "Can you take it or are you busy?"
"No, I've got it!" Kurt shouted.
"Alright." He heard shuffling feet and the sounds of a car being worked on.
Kurt shook his head and made a mental note to order a few more Honda models of the spark plug he had been looking at - apparently nearly everyone in Lima owned a Honda - then made his way out of the office to the lobby where customers either waited for their car to be returned to them or dropped off their keys.
He adjusted the strap of his overalls on his left shoulder and self-consciously wiped his hands down the backs of his thighs, hoping he hadn't gotten any grease on his face. Working at the garage was fun, but it simply was not good for his skin.
All of those thoughts rushed out of his mind when he laid eyes on whom he assumed to be his next customer. A boy not much older than Kurt, definitely a tad shorter though, stood with his hands behind his back admiring the various posters of muscle cars adorning the walls behind the counter. His hair was nearly gelled down to the top of his head, but Kurt could see a few curls escaping from the dark cocoon. A bright blue polo brought out his olive skin tone, and his yellow capri pants would have been a fashion crime on anyone else. But somehow this boy managed to pull it all off.
Kurt closed his already gaping mouth, chastising himself for 1) ogling someone so obviously and 2) doing so to a potential customer. Very unprofessional behavior and absolutely something he does not want getting back to his dad.
So instead of staring some more, he swallowed, put on his "hi-can-I-help-you" face, and approached the boy, who seemingly hasn't even noticed Kurt's presence, he's so enthralled by the different cars. Kurt stood beside him for a minute, his eyes roaming over the familiar pictures: a cherry red Ford Mustang GT, a banana yellow Ferrari with its suicide doors wide open, a deep green Porsche 911 Turbo, and, Kurt's favorite, a sky blue Thunderbird.
Kurt decided then to take the plunge and see what this guy was all about. He cleared his throat politely and the boy turned around suddenly, just registering that he's no longer alone in the room.
"Oh, hi. Sorry. Have you been standing there long?"
Kurt had to fight a smile because not only does the boy look absolutely adorable when he's flustered but around his neck sits a yellow and blue polka dot bowtie. Who even wears bowties outside of a formal occasion?
"Not that long," Kurt assured him. For some reason he doesn't want this guy before him to feel nervous or uncomfortable. It's like something inside of him has already formed an attachment to this person he doesn't know, has never seen before. It's a rush, maybe infatuation? Kurt mentally slapped some sense into himself. No. Maybe a bit of attraction because he's totally cute, but no infatuation. I won't allow it.
"Oh. Okay. Um, good. I mean... well, I'm glad I didn't keep you waiting for too long. I don't mean to sound rude. I'm sorry."
"It's fine," Kurt replied with a dismissive wave of his hand. But now he's wondering, how old exactly is this guy?
"Right."
Nothing else seemed to be forthcoming so Kurt prompted, "You're here because something is wrong with your car?"
"Oh, yeah! Right. See I was driving home from school - I attend Dalton in Westerville - but then my car starting making these weird noises. I know from experience that it's never a good thing when your car makes noises, so I pulled into the nearest mechanic's place I could find. And now here I am."
Kurt nodded understandingly. At least he was smart enough to get it checked before something happened. "Okay. Can you describe the noises for me?"
The boy just raised an eyebrow and looked at Kurt like he's crazy. Kurt sighed. He gets that look a lot in this town.
"It will help me determine what I should be looking for," Kurt explained patiently. "That way I won't have to look over the whole car. It'll save us both some time, and save you some money."
The boy's eyes went wide in realization and he nodded. "Right. Sure. Okay, so it was fine for a while but then I hit this stop light and it made a screeching sound. And when I accelerated again it made a different screeching noise than the first one but it kind of had me worried so I came here."
Kurt nodded, mentally determining to check the brake pads first. "Okay, I'll take a quick look. Then I can give you a rough estimate of the problem and how much it would cost for me to fix it. Where are you parked?"
"Out in front," the other boy stated, pointing through the glass window to a black BMW parked off to the left.
"Lead the way," Kurt responded.
Kurt proceeded to follow him outside, chanting mentally to not look at the other boy's ass no matter how good it looked in those pants.
"Here we are," he remarked once they stood beside the car. The boy opened the driver's side door, popped open the hood, and looked at Kurt to see what was to be done next.
Kurt nodded appreciatively - not everyone just popped the hood of their own accord without him having to ask them to do so - and pulled out a pen sized flashlight from his back pocket before searching around. Nothing seemed amiss so he decided to take a look at the braking system.
As he turned around to move over to the tires, he felt a gaze on the back of his neck. Kurt had a lot of experience with strangers looking at him, whether it be in hate or curiosity, but this one felt different. He turned fully to look over to the car's owner and they locked eyes for just a second before the other boy turned away… wait, was he blushing?
Kurt marked it down as wishful thinking - obviously whatever attraction he was feeling was getting to his head now - and bent down to look at the tires and see if anything noticeably wrong presented itself. Kurt nodded to himself, determining to grab the tire jack as well the tire iron and lug wrench.
"I'm going to go in and grab a few tools. Will you be alright for a few minutes?"
"You know what's wrong with the car?" the other boy inquired, his eyes projecting hope. How can someone's eyes be so expressive? Kurt wondered.
"I'm ninety percent sure it's something to do with the brakes," Kurt answered. "Well, ninety-five percent," he added when the other boy's expression dimmed. "I just want to make absolutely sure before I tell you what the costs would be."
"Sounds fair. Yeah, I'll be fine."
"Great. Be back in a minute."
Kurt strode back into the garage and dodged various car parts strewn on work benches on his way to the back wall where all the basic tools were kept. He really should have just brought his toolbox out with him. Reaching up, Kurt grabbed the black toolbox with his name on it in one hand and a floor jack with the other. At one time in his life it had taken Kurt both hands and much more effort to even lift a jack off of the floor, but years of working in the garage coupled with yoga and at-home Pilates had increased his strength well enough.
By the time he brought all of his tools back outside, Kurt realized his potential customer was back in the lobby again admiring the posters of old muscle cars. Was I really gone that long?
"Hey Mr. …," and suddenly Kurt realized he didn't know the other boy's name. He chided himself for being so forgetful - his dad had taught him to learn the customer's name first thing - and approached his customer. "Excuse me," he said softly, not wanting to give him a scare like the last time.
The curly-haired boy turned around and smiled sheepishly. "Sorry. These cars are just stunning."
"That they are," Kurt agreed. He placed his toolbox on the floor at his feet and extended a hand. "I just realized I never properly introduced myself. My name's Kurt."
"Blaine," was the reply as they shook hands.
Kurt attempted to ignore the tumbling feeling in his stomach when his smooth skin touched the other's rougher palm.
"Nice to meet you, Blaine."
"Likewise, Kurt."
Kurt dropped his hand after what seemed too long and picked his toolbox back up again. "Which one do you like the most?"
"Huh?"
"The car posters," Kurt answered.
"Oh. Those. Probably the Mustang. You?"
"Definitely the Thunderbird. I not only like the name of the model itself, but also I love the shape of the body."
"Funny how we both like the Fords, right?"
Kurt chuckled and nodded. "Coincidence, I think not," he joked.
Something in Blaine's eyes changed then, something Kurt couldn't quite pinpoint. "Yeah," Blaine said in an undertone, possibly meant only for himself to hear. "Something like that."
Kurt chose to not point out that he had heard what Blaine just said. "So I'm just going to go back out to your car. it might take a while. would you like to just stay in here until I'm done? I could get you a bottle of water or something if you'd like."
"Water sounds great. But I'd rather watch you work, if that's alright?"
Kurt mentally cheered. He'd much rather have someone to talk to while he worked, but it would have been unprofessional to not at least offer Blaine the option of relaxing in the lobby.
"Okay. There's a mini fridge right next to the counter with sodas and water inside, so grab whatever you'd like and then meet me out by the car."
"Did you want anything to drink?" Blaine offered politely.
He must be everyone's favorite person with manners like that.
"A bottle of water would be nice, thank you. But you know, I'm the one who should be offering you things, not the other way around," Kurt couldn't help but jest.
Blaine smiled and Kurt nearly smiled too just from that alone. "It's the least I can do. I'm sure you've been working hard all day."
Kurt didn't push it farther, afraid he may say something stupid he'd regret later like "can I look at your face every day for the rest of my life please?"
Instead he nodded his thanks and motioned he was moving out to the car.
When Blaine returned with two water bottles in hand, Kurt had already removed the front driver's side tire. Blaine whistled admiringly and Kurt fought the blush threatening to rise into his cheeks.
"You work quick," Blaine commented as he placed one water bottle down beside Kurt and uncapped the other for himself to take a swig.
"I've been doing this for a long time," Kurt shrugged.
"How long?" Blaine wondered aloud.
"Since I could walk, talk, and safely manage handling tools."
"That seems a while. So, what? Like ten years?"
"Give or take," Kurt replied. He focused on not pinching his fingers as he removed the outer layer of the brake pad. It looked corroded and worn down, so at least Kurt knew now he had guessed correctly. Not that he had much doubt in his prognosis to begin with. But better safe than sorry.
"Well, your brakes definitely need to be replaced," he told Blaine unquestionably.
"Will it be an expensive fix?" Blaine asked apprehensively.
Kurt felt bad for saying the cost, hearing the anxiety in Blaine's voice. But he couldn't lie to him, even with not knowing him at all. "Yes. It'll be about $1,500 to fix all of them."
Blaine's shoulders relaxed and his worried frown melted away into his normal expression. "That's not too bad," he observed, to Kurt's surprise.
"Not too bad?" Kurt asked incredulously.
"Well, not really. I thought it might be more than that."
A million thoughts flew through Kurt's mind but he wisely voiced none of them. He simply asked, "Should I assume you'd like me to fix it then?"
"Yes," Blaine answered assuredly. "How long will it take, do you think?"
"I have a few other projects I need to get done beforehand, but I can have it ready by tomorrow morning for sure. Would that work for you?"
"That'd be fine. How much do I owe you?"
"Usually we don't charge until after the repair is finished. I can give you a rough estimate right now, but it may fluctuate in actuality depending on how long it takes me to get everything fixed and whether or not we need to order the parts you need."
"An estimate then."
"Seeing as I'll have to remove the tires to get to the problem area, which adds about an hour to the whole ordeal, I'd say roughly $1,250. And that's including labor."
"Seems fair to me."
"Okay. I'll need you to come in and fill out some forms while I move your car."
"Sure thing."
Kurt led Blaine back into the lobby, sitting him down in the waiting area before walking off to grab the clipboard and paperwork he'd need to fill out. He took the keys from Blaine when they were offered to him and moved the car into the garage. He relayed to Kevin and Hank, the other employees, the issue with the car and the deadline, and then went back in to check on Blaine's progress.
Surprisingly, Blaine had already completed all five pages of it.
"Do you need me to do anything else?" Blaine inquired once Kurt was finished going over the forms to make sure Blaine hadn't missed anything.
"Nope, that about covers it," Kurt answered.
"Okay. So, I guess I'll see you tomorrow then?"
"Are you going to be okay without your vehicle? Do you need a ride anywhere?"
"That depends," Blaine retorted slyly. "Are you the one offering the ride?"
Kurt blushed - damn his pale skin - and nodded.
"Then yes. Yes, I do."
A/N: This was supposed to be a short drabble and now it's a two-shot. What is wrong with me?
I blame Klaine. They took my idea and ran away with it.
Up next: a coffee date, some flirting, and an exchange of phone numbers.