I own nothing. The title's from the Grease song. Rated for language, possible mature content later and my paranoia. This is ensemble, with the focus moving by chapter. Events will occur in the order they are written.
Warning: I do write Sam as gay. So you know.
"This sucks," Santana pronounced, looking over the painfully short list scrawled in the notebook that rested on her lap. She put her feet on the table in front of her. "None of these are gonna work."
Dave sighed and leaned back against the black leather couch they were sitting on. The two of them were in the Lopez's living room, with the windows wide open and the sun shining brightly through them. Dave squinted, blinked and turned to look back at Santana. He still felt uncomfortable at Santana's house, like his mere blue-collar presence would make it dirty. She didn't seem to notice and crossed out all the items on the list with a few strokes of the black pen she held in her hand. She bit the tip of it absentmindedly, staring at the page.
"This was your idea, why don't you think of something?" Dave asked.
"Look, I don't want to do this either. But I already told Figgins that the Bullywhips are doing some kind of summer fundraising project, and he's gonna hold me to it," she said irritably. "We need to show him we can actually do things besides bitching out jocks if we want more school support and funding. Plus, it'd make your parents happy," she added.
Go there, why don't you, Dave thought. He reached over and took the notebook from her, holding it close to his face to peer at the crossed out items. They included things like "rob a bank" and "break in2 homofobes houses."
They had been sitting there for a while.
"All right," Dave said. "We've decided on raising money and donating it to GLAAD, that's something. Maybe–"
"I've got it!" Santana interrupted. Dave rolled his eyes as Santana continued. Of course she'd get an idea while he was talking. She took the notebook back from Dave's hands. "Car washes. I'll ask Kurt to help, he'd be down. We could use the Hummel garage."
Dave shook his head. "No way. We're not involving him."
Dave hadn't spoken to Kurt since the prom debacle from the spring. Whenever he saw Kurt in the halls before school ended, he changed his path (even if it meant walking around the back of the school outside). Kurt hadn't tried to confront him about it, so avoiding Kurt was pretty easy after the summer started, besides one isolated incident when Dave fled a video store after seeing Kurt and his hobbit boyfriend.
"Yeah, we are. Besides, you'll need a partner after I leave," she said, writing it down and circling it several times in pen before she resumed chewing on it.
Dave blinked. "Are you kidding me? You can't go to Mexico and leave me with him."
"It's Puerto Rico," she corrected sharply. Dave threw his hands up.
"Whatever!"
Santana put the notebook on the table in front of her, with the pen still in her mouth. She held it like a cigarette between her fingers. "I'll talk to him, okay? You don't have to talk about the prom thing or anything. I've got this."
"But–" Dave began.
"Drop it, Dave," she said, opening a piece of gum.
Dave didn't bother snapping at her again. He stood up, readjusting his gray tee shirt. "Call me when you get the details straightened out with him."
Arguing with Santana was always a wasted effort, he thought bitterly, and slammed the door behind him.
Santana walked purposefully into Hummel Tires and Lube, listening to her sandals clack on the pavement. Burt Hummel looked up from the car he was working on when he heard her enter.
"You here to see Kurt?" he asked, eyeing her. Santana wondered if Kurt had said anything about her. She hoped he hadn't.
He pointed to an office in the back and resumed his work on the car. She followed the direction, stopping outside a small office in the back to read a poster on the wall that stated a code of conduct for employees. At the bottom, it said in large letters: "Any employee who uses offensive language (INCLUDING homophobic slurs) is fired on the spot. NO EXCEPTIONS."
Anyone who called Burt Hummel a papa bear wasn't kidding.
She knocked on the office door.
"Enter," called out Kurt. She did.
The office was pretty small, and clearly Kurt's. Three tasteful fans were quietly whirring away to keep it from becoming too stuffy, since there was only one small window. There were a few flower pots, and a well-decorated desk that faced the door. Kurt was sitting across from her, with his laptop open and a manuscript in front of him that he was editing with a red pen. He put it down and motioned for Santana to take the seat in front of him.
"Santana. What brings you here today?" he asked.
"I have a proposal," she said. Kurt eyed her warily. "Dave and I are doing some fundraising this summer and donating the proceeds to GLAAD."
His eyebrows hit his hairline. She ignored it.
"We're washing cars. It seems like your thing. You interested?"
Kurt pushed a stray hair back into place and blinked. "Always right to business," he said softly, and paused. "Certainly, I'm interested. But …Dave Karofsky?"
"No, the other Dave in the Bullywhips," she snorted. "Don't talk to him about the prom thing, he's still weird about it. He didn't even want to show up today, so don't push him, okay?"
"Santana," said Kurt, with an amused look. "You almost sound concerned."
She scoffed. "Whatever. He's delicate. I don't want to break him."
Kurt smiled. "We can use this building, maybe," he said, looking around. "I'll go work things out with my dad, and we could offer car washes to all customers for a small fee. Does that sound good?"
Santana nodded and offered her hand. Kurt shook it.
"I'll call you," he said. Santana stood up and moved to leave.
"Wait," Kurt said. Santana stopped. "Why are you two still doing this? Prom's long over with. You have nothing to win. What's up?"
She ran a hand through her hair. She had figured he'd ask something like this at some point, but she'd barely managed to prepare a good answer. "It's important for Dave to have a safe environment once he, you know," she shrugged.
"Comes out?" Kurt asked. "Same for you," he added, watching her face carefully.
Santana closed her eyes. Figures. Kurt was there last year when Brittany dropped their secret. He would be the only one to take it seriously. "Yeah," she said. "Same for me."
Kurt didn't say anything as she walked out of the office.
Dave Karofsky had had many moments in his life where he simply wondered how he got where he was. Sometimes, he'd wonder that after tossing a kid in a dumpster. He wondered after that thing in the locker room.
And, as he stood at Hummel Tires and Lube with a soapy rag in his hand rubbing down an old white Buick five feet away from Kurt Hummel, that was his only coherent thought. Between the palpable awkwardness, and the fact that Kurt was wearing a very clingy white tank top, he didn't trust himself to form any other thought, let alone words. Behind him on a wooden crate was a rainbow jar (decorated by Kurt, naturally) with barely enough money in it to cover the bottom.
"Dave?" Kurt asked suddenly. Dave dropped the rag he was holding and quickly bent down to pick it up. He prayed to any god there was that he wasn't blushing.
"Can I ask why you've been scrubbing the same part of the hood for three minutes now? It's clean."
Dave looked down. Shit. "Well, you know, people wanna get their money's worth, gotta make sure it's super clean."
He was sure he was blushing. He crouched down so that the car would hide him and started cleaning as low as he could to escape Kurt's gaze. He still heard his voice.
"We can talk, if you want," Kurt said. Dave dipped his rag in the big, red bucket of soapy water by the front wheel.
"I…" Dave began, staring at the dusty wheel.
"Hey, Kurt," a voice called from the entrance. Dave dropped his head. It's the hobbit. Great.
Dave looked up to see Blaine walk over to the car and kiss Kurt lightly on the lips. He quickly looked back down and away from the light flush on Kurt's cheeks. Blaine looked down at Dave.
"Everything going well?" he asked. Dave nodded shortly.
"Need any help?" Blaine asked, looking back at Kurt.
No, we're doing just fine here without your dapper ass. "Yeah, that'd be great. I have some shirts in my office you can borrow, I don't want you staining your blazer," Kurt said, and took Blaine's hand. "Be right back," he called behind him to Dave.
Dave dropped his head. "Fucking hobbit," he muttered.
"So guess what," Blaine said, unbuttoning his white shirt. Dalton wasn't out for another two days, due to repeated off days and a shorter summer vacation. Kurt raised an eyebrow. "I got that little volunteering gig I applied for in Indiana!"
"Congratulations," Kurt said and paused. "Wait. Indiana?"
Blaine folded the shirt and dropped in on Kurt's desk on top of his tie and blazer. "Yeah, remember? I applied to be a counselor at a singing camp there."
Kurt glanced at the door, hoping his dad wouldn't knock. He didn't know how to explain a shirtless Blaine and a locked door without being grounded forever. He forced his eyes away from Blaine's chest and to his face. "When did that happen?"
Blaine took the sleeveless white shirt Kurt had laid on the desk and pulled it over his head. "We were listening to Lady GaGa's new album. I guess you were a bit distracted."
Kurt did faintly recall a conversation happening while he was bopping his head to Americano. "Oh, right."
"Yeah," Blaine said, straightening the shirt. "I leave four days from now and stay until the middle of July, so I'll be there for about a month. I'm staying for all four sessions."
"What about Six Flags?" Kurt asked. "Weren't you auditioning there next week?"
Blaine shook his head. "My dad freaked. He didn't want me spending all summer singing. We had a big fight, and ended up compromising. I can sing, but only in a way that would look good on my transcript." He shrugged. "Could be worse."
Kurt nodded slowly and reached for the doorknob. Blaine touched his hand gently.
"Wait," he said quietly. "Are you gonna be safe with him here?"
Kurt closed his eyes. "He's sorry. And," he continued, as Blaine opened his mouth. "My dad's right here. He keeps a shotgun within reach. I wouldn't worry."
Blaine nodded. "Yeah, you're right. I just want you to be safe, you know?"
Kurt leaned forward and kissed him. "I know, baby. It's sweet."
Neither of them touched the doorknob for a long while.
Sam almost lost his nerve and ran when he walked into Hummel Tires and Lube and saw Dave Karofsky crouched next to a car by himself and scrubbing it aggressively. He looked back at the heavy doors that were slowly closing behind him and briefly considered running the other way.
"Man up," he muttered to himself. "You're gonna have your job interview and be fine. There aren't any slushy machines here anyway."
He braced himself as if there were and stepped past the large mat in front of the doors and onto the smooth concrete. Dave didn't seem to notice him anyway, so he'd be fine.
"Hey, Sam. You ready?" Burt Hummel asked, appearing from nowhere. Sam forced himself not to jump, and to remain calm.
"Yes, sir," he said, straightening his back. Good posture is important.
"Relax, kid," Burt laughed. "I'm just gonna talk to you a bit and see what you can do. Nothing to worry about. Okay? And call me Burt," he added.
"Yes, s- Burt," Sam said. Burt laughed and called him over to the back.
"So, Dave," Blaine said, as they scrubbed their fourth car since he joined them. "Where's Santana? Isn't she in the group, too?"
Blaine and Kurt, after being gone way too long, had spent the whole half hour since their return flirting and wiping grease of each other's faces. Dave was gritting his teeth and trying to take out his irritation on the car with his rag. It wasn't very effective.
"She's 'project manager' or something. She said she's packing for Puerto Rico, since she's leaving soon," Dave replied shortly.
"So you're doing all the work here?" Kurt asked. Dave nodded, scrubbing the front driver's side window.
They fell into a silence again, but not for long. Blaine seemed to want to prevent that at all costs.
"I saw Sam Evans in here," he said, this time to Kurt. Dave glanced up. He had seen a blond kid come in, but he hadn't looked very hard at him. Kurt shrugged.
"I gave Sam a heads-up about summer job openings here, so he's getting an interview. Did he seem nervous?" Kurt asked worriedly. "We went over breathing tips in case."
Blaine smiled at Kurt. "You're so sweet."
They kissed yet again. Dave tried not to retch.
Twenty nerve-wracking minutes later, Burt patted Sam's shoulder as he stood up from the uncomfortable wooden chair in Burt's office.
"You're in," Burt said.
"Thank you – What?" Sam said. In? Shouldn't he have to wait for a call first, or something?
"You know what you're doing, and I can tell you want this. You're not gonna screw up much, are you?"
"No, Burt," Sam said quickly.
"Well, you got the job. Boss's orders. You start tomorrow."
Sam managed to control himself until he shut the office door. He pumped the air and jumped, grinning ear to ear. He had a real paying summer job. Between that and his dad's recent position at the Home Depot near their hotel, they could get through the next months pretty comfortably. Maybe they could get an apartment or something if everything went well.
He walked with a spring in his step out of the garage, and almost made it all the way out when he felt someone grab his arm.
"Sam!" Kurt exclaimed. "How'd it go? Did you breathe?"
Sam grinned. "I got the job!"
Kurt reached out and hugged him. "This is great," Kurt said, smiling and releasing him. "I'll see you almost every day."
Sam grinned wider.
"Sorry about the soap," Kurt said, looking at the soapy handprints he left on the back of Sam's shirt. Sam shrugged.
"It's cool," he said. "What're you all doing?" he asked, looking around. They were all cleaning a dark green minivan, with Dave doing the top. Blaine's arms couldn't reach.
"It's a fundraiser," Dave said. "We're washing cars and donating the proceeds to GLAAD."
Sam nodded and looked back at Kurt. "Cool," he said. "I'll, uh, see you tomorrow."
Kurt smiled and waved as Sam walked away. He did pause at the door to glance back. Kurt was bent down by a red bucket. Sam realized he was licking his lips and bolted out, jogging a little.
Drop it, Evans.
Kurt closed the trunk of Blaine's car with a dull thump and stepped onto the still dewy grass, wearing just his pajamas, bathrobe, and slippers. He was just outside his own house, since Blaine had stayed the night (with all doors open and in separate rooms). Blaine's car was fully packed, and Blaine was dressed to make a good impression when he arrived. Everything was ready.
"You'll call when you get there, right?" Kurt asked. Blaine smiled and kissed him.
"'Course I will," he said. "I'll be fine. Indiana's not that far. And you call me if Dave makes you uncomfortable, okay?" he added seriously. "I'll come back early."
Kurt smiled slightly. "I appreciate your concern, Blaine, but everything's completely fine. I promise."
Kurt opened the driver's door and Blaine stepped in, leaving one more lingering kiss on Kurt's lips. "I'll miss you so much," he said softly.
"I'll miss you too," Kurt replied. "I love you."
"I love you too," Blaine said quietly, smiling and buckling his seat belt. He squeezed Kurt's hand and released it a second later.
Kurt closed the door and waved until Blaine was completely out of sight.
This was going to be a long summer.