Hey guys, thanks for carrying on putting up with my nonsense, especially to those who reviewed ^^ Yay for reviewers, have a cyber hug and some cyber cake!! This story is dedicated to Phil at work for not being there today and letting me think up what was going to happen in this chapter rather than nattering to him!! And to all you guys, I love you XD… Ok, too much shelf stacking methinks, I've gone mad. Ah well. Back to school week after next, then I might be less stir-crazy… Probably not though, ah well. Anyhoo; the fic. Please R and R. Enjoy.

Burt looked up. Kurt was standing in front of him, waving sarcastically. 'Hello, Dad, earth calling.' Burt raised an eyebrow. 'Evening Kurt. Nice of you to join me.' Kurt rolled his eyes. 'It's eleven, and I had to choose what to wear. I was up at nine.'

'Two hours?'

'I had breakfast as well…'

Burt smirked and nodded, 'Yeah… I thought you were going to help out today?'

Kurt smiled, a little puzzled. 'Yes… I am. Why?'

'You're wearing white jeans. And a white hat.'

Kurt shrugged. 'And a rather stunning blue shirt, even if I do say so myself. Mind you, I do need some blue shoes to pull this off… You're right, this is ridiculous!'

Kurt turned flamboyantly, and was about to leave when Burt called after him.

'What I meant was you're going to get covered in petrol, I suggest you wear something less…' Smart? No, that was wrong, fashionable? Burt hadn't seen anyone else wearing anything like what his son wore, so that would be a no… Gay? He couldn't say that…

'White.' That would do. 'You should borrow some of my stuff. There's an old shirt in the back of my wardrobe, and a pair of jeans that are already covered in petrol waiting to be washed.' He looked at his son for a moment… He was so small, and… slight. 'You'll need a belt.' Kurt rolled his eyes again. 'Dad, I never forget to accessorise.'

Burt shook his head good humouredly, before getting back to work.

'Excuse me, sir.'

Burt looked up, a young man stood behind him. He was fairly tall, well built and tanned, obviously one of the popular kids. He was Burt, thirty years younger with a Mohawk. He stood up and turned to face the boy, he was an inch or so taller than him who was now watching something behind him.

'Hey Noah, can we help you?' Kurt walked over to them, barely recognisable in his father's clothes. 'I didn't know you had a car.'

So Kurt knew him. Burt clapped his son on the shoulder

'I'll let you deal with this one then, if you know this guy,' with that he turned back to the open bonneted car behind him and continued making adjustments to the engine, surreptitiously keeping an eye on the exchange behind him.

The tall kid, Noah, replied, 'I don't, it's my Mom's. I didn't know you worked at a garage.'

Kurt rolled his eyes. 'It's my Dad's garage. It does say 'Hummel Garage' in big lettering on the sign, though I guess that wouldn't help someone illiterate…'

Burt winced. Kurt really didn't help himself sometimes. If this kid tried to hurt him though…

Noah spoke again 'At least I can pull, fag.'

Burt flinched at the insult, but Kurt didn't seem to be affected.

'Yeah, how's that going for you again? Last I heard you got your best friend's girlfriend pregnant…'

'Whatever.' He gestured towards the car. 'The brakes are shot. How long's it going to take to fix them?'

Kurt raised his eyebrow. 'Tough guy like you and you can't change a set of brake pads for yourself? I'm shocked. It'll be around an hour, longer if you want me to do general maintenance.'

'You do it?' The kid seemed genuinely shocked.

Kurt smiled wryly. 'Yeah, unlikely as it is I do know stuff about cars. It comes of growing up in a garage. Do you want this done or not?'

'Oh, yeah.' He handed Kurt the keys. 'I don't want any gay stuff though. No pink dice, or flowery air fresheners or whatever.'

That was enough. Burt stood up behind Kurt, glaring at the boy. 'I suggest you go and find something to do for the next couple of hours.' He spoke coldly, eyes blazing with suppressed rage. How dare someone talk to his son like that. 'And apologise to my boy.' Kurt's cheeks flamed, 'Dad,' he said, equally coldly. 'I am capable of dealing with Noah perfectly well on my own.'

'I'm sure you are.' He looked back at the kid, who looked arrogantly disinterested. 'I thought I asked you to apologise.'

'I thought Kurt said he was fine.'

'Apologise. Now.' Burt fought to keep his voice calm, he had had enough of this kid. Luckily for him Kurt would insist on mending his car, otherwise Burt didn't know what he would do to the vehicle to vent his rage; probably something involving petrol, a wide open space and matches.

Noah scowled. 'Sorry.' He muttered, before turning on his heel and walking off. Burt thought he heard him mutter 'f-ing fag,' as he went, but he couldn't be sure.

Kurt glared at his father. 'What the hell was that? I thought I said I could stand up for myself.'

'I saw the bruises Kurt. What exactly to you see as standing up for yourself, because letting them kick you isn't my definition of dealing with bullies.'

Kurt shrugged. 'I'll mend. It beats being chucked in dumpsters, at least this way I don't need to buy a new wardrobe every weekend.'

Burt couldn't believe his ears. 'Kurt can you hear yourself? You can't just let them get away with it.'

Kurt shrugged again, this time staying silent. He looked so tiny in his clothes. Like a kid playing dress up, how could anyone want to beat him up? Burt sighed. 'I'm going to have a word with that teacher you like, the Spanish one with a German name.'

'Dad…' Kurt started to object, but stopped when he saw the steely look in his father's eye. Nothing stopped his Dad when he was in this mood. It was going to be a long week.

That's it. You have no idea how annoyed I am at homophones. They sound awful, meaning that Kurt is not allowed to be curt. Fmeh. And curt is such a fun word to use… Ah well. I hope you enjoyed the fic, the more reviews I get the sooner I update. (That's a lie I have to work out what happens next before I update… ) Please review, I love you guys.