Kurt sat on the top step of the bleachers, staring out blankly at the empty pitch. The rough grass glistened with moisture in the dim floodlights, the recent rain still clinging to each blade. Kurt was hunched over around a cigarette, huddling against the back railings with his knees brought up to his chest, trying to hold in as much warmth as he could. He rested his chin on his knee and wrapped his arms around his ankles, trying to draw his jacket around his legs as much as possible.

The night was drawing in and the cold clawed relentlessly at Kurt's thin jacket. He knew he couldn't keep this up much longer; he needed somewhere new, somewhere warm to go to get away.

Kurt reached for his phone, shifting his weight slightly to one side to glance at the time before slipping it back into his jeans. 6.31pm. His father was expecting him at the garage hours ago for his first shift. Kurt had no intention of going anywhere.

There were no new messages, no calls; nothing. His cell phone stayed stubbornly quiet and dark in his pocket. Going by his father's behaviour over the past few days he had expected a million angry texts and missed calls by now.

His father no longer left for work early, instead choosing to lay out breakfast for the both of them each morning. When Kurt would shuffle blearily downstairs in the morning, sleep clouding his vision, there would be a pot of coffee on the side and a neat row of cereals lying out on the table. His dad would call out a cheery greeting from behind a paper, or over his shoulder from where he was leaning against the counter going over the accounts. A full jug of milk, a stack of still-warm toast, a well-supplied bowl of fruit.

Kurt usually silently grabbed a mug of coffee and took it straight back upstairs with him, ignoring his father's attempts at conversation completely. But so far his father had remained undeterred, each morning it was spread out exactly the same.

It was like his father had been asleep for the past few years and had now woken up. Kurt was hoping (praying) it was just a phase. And judging by the lack of complaints about Kurt missing his shift, maybe, just maybe he had already fallen back into listless unconsciousness.

Kurt's head whipped up when he heard the ringing of footsteps on the metal below. He blinked rapidly to clear the sheen that had glazed over his eyes as he had stared aimlessly out at the night. A familiar head of pink hair was bowed against the wind, bobbing up the steps towards him.

Quinn settled down next to him on the cold bench, drawing her scarf tightly around her.

"Hey," he grunted in greeting around the cigarette wedged between his lips. He pinched it between his fingers and exhaled into the wind, the smoke making his eyes water as it blew back in his face.

"Where have you been lately?" he asked hoarsely, still blinking rapidly as his eyes burned. "I haven't seen you around as much."

"I've been here. It's you who hasn't."

"Quinn. You're always here. Well," he amended. "Either here or off with those wannabe 'skanks' or whatever you like to call yourselves. Where the hell else could you have been?"

She remained silent, staring off into the drizzle. He groaned in realisation. "Don't tell me you're off talking to Puckerman again."

"I...maybe," she admitted quietly.

"Oh, come on Quinn," he bit out. "The guy's an asshole. Just move on already."

"Fuck off, Kurt," she shot back, immediately on the defensive. "You're just jealous."

Kurt scoffed. "What could I possibly be jealous of? A guy gets you pregnant, lets you believe someone else was the father-," he counted out the list on his fingers. "-Ignores you for like, a year, and then randomly starts stalking you and harassing you to get to talk to him," he waved the hand in her face. "Oh yeah Quinn, I'm really fucking jealous. I want to get me some of that."

"It's not like that," she insisted.

"Okay then, Quinn," he said patronisingly, sneering slightly at her. "Tell me what it's like."

"He's changed. I really believe he's changed. He's not harassing me, he's being friendly. You just don't recognise what friendly is."

He snorted and rolled his eyes in derision. "…If that was supposed to be an insult, it was fucking terrible."

"What is up with you today? You're being all kinds of extra bitchy."

He growled in frustration. "If you call me a bitch one more time, Quinn...I swear."

"You swear what?!" She threw up both her hands, turning to him. "You couldn't, wouldn't, dare do anything to me!"

She was looking at him challengingly through narrowed eyes. He took a deep, calming breath. "I could-, oh, I don't know-" he said breezily, waving his cigarette lazily in the air. "I could tell everyone the reason you went to New York last summer."

She froze, the sneer dropping from her face. "I know you wouldn't do that," she said quietly.

"Do you? I thought I knew you wouldn't be chatting to other people about me, but hey, I guess people can always surprise you," he said coolly.

"What do you mean?" she asked uneasily.

"I mean that I had a lovely 'talk' with Finn the other day." She glanced at him with her wide pale eyes. "Oh yeah," he nodded. "He said he knew all about last summer. And you know what, you can say what you want about me to other people, but not Finn."

"Why not Finn?" she asked curiously.

"Because the universe is having some great fucking joke where my dad and his mom are apparently a 'thing'. And despite the fact that he struggles to string words together to form coherent sentences, he seems to have managed to manipulate my dad into listening to him. So I'd appreciate it if he didn't know what may or may not have happened in New York. I'd rather he didn't know anything about New York, in fact."

She didn't respond, deep in thought as she studied the floor below her feet carefully, leaning forward on straight arms with her fingers curled around the edge of the cool metal bench.

"So apparently," he went on. "You've been quite the chatterbox recently - Finn, then Puck - all your old crew. Why don't you just be done with it and go back to Glee Club where you clearly belong?"

Her expression softened into something that looked almost like...pity. His gut twisted uncomfortably. "Kurt, they've all really changed. I know they all want to talk to you about what happened."

"You do, huh?" Kurt snorted. "They tell you that they wanna be best buddies, did they?"

"Well, not in so many words-"

"Don't be so fucking naive, Quinn," he said sharply. "They haven't changed. They never will. They only want to talk to you because they need you to make up numbers in their shitty glee club. So just go back to them where you so clearly want to be and leave me alone."

She didn't move a muscle, her face still soft and irritating understanding. "Kurt, I still want to be your friend. We've stuck together this last year. Maybe if you just talked to me about-"

He held up a hand to stop her, anger bubbling through his veins. "Don't you dare preach to me about talking about your feelings. Don't go all righteous on me."

She leaned in to him. "I'm just saying," she said gently, resting a hand on his arm. "That talking to Noah has really helped me get some closure on a lot of things."

He shrugged off her hand, glaring out into the now pitch dark. He couldn't help but feel slightly betrayed. He knew he was probably supposed to be pleased for her. He was supposed to feel happy that she had sorted her shit out, or 'got some closure' or whatever. But she had done it without him. It wasn't fair that she could just turn up one day and tell him she was fixed and put back together when he had never felt more broken apart.

He jutted out his chin. "So now you're magically healed you don't have to stick with me. Off you pop," he dismissed her with a flick of his hands.

"Kurt," she pleaded, even quieter than before. "Please just tell me what they did to you and then maybe-"

"No," he forced out. "It won't achieve anything. Let it go."

She continued to consider him, her green eyes searching his face. "Fine," she sighed. "Consider it let go. I just want to help."

"Well," Kurt said flatly. "Don't."

They lapsed into a familiar silence. Quinn settled back next to him on the railings "You mind if I sit here for a while?" she asked a little warily.

"Fine. Just, enough with the talking."

She nodded and curled up on herself next to him.


Blaine went a couple of days without seeing Kurt at all. He had already noticed that Kurt seemed to have some sort of ninja skills for slipping through the halls completely unseen, but he had started getting used to their little conversations by his car. Had started hoping that maybe this could be their 'thing'. That this could maybe spread into more 'things' for them.

And then suddenly he wasn't there anymore.

And they weren't even friends, not really. They had no classes together, he had never seen him at lunch and wasn't in any clubs or extracurriculars. There was nothing he could do to find him. He didn't even have his number.

All he could do was wait for Kurt come to him.

Blaine tried to push him to the back of his mind, tried not to scan the hallways with a sweeping eye hoping for a glimpse of multi-coloured hair or the glint of a reflection from a piercing. He had noticed Quinn in the corridors, now either alone or with Puck, never accompanied by the tall figure Blaine had been used to seeing her with.

So it was with a great flood of relief that he spotted Kurt leaning nonchalantly back against his car less than a week later, as if he belonged there. As if he had always been there.

"Hi, Lurky McLurkisson. Fancy seeing you here," Blaine said as he made his way over to his car a couple of days later.

Kurt nodded a greeting, a brief smile flitting across his lips. "Hi, Blaine."

Blaine walked up to him, grinning at him with his head on one side. "Where have you been the last few days? I haven't seen you around."

Kurt pushed himself off from the car with a huff. "I've been here."

"Here?"

"Well not right here," Kurt said with a roll of his eyes. "I haven't been camped out in your car for a week. I mean I've been at school as usual.

"Oh." He blinked. "Sorry, I tried to find you but you're very elusive."

Kurt looked at him steadily. "Sometimes I don't want to be found."

Blaine shifted on his feet but held his gaze, trying to figure out what Kurt meant. Did Kurt want Blaine to stop looking for him or was there something that Blaine wasn't getting? But Kurt was the one who kept turning up to see him. Why?

"So, I've was thinking," he began searchingly. "About this whole 'lurking' scenario."

"This sounds ominous," Kurt said, narrowing his eyes at him.

"It's not bad! I promise!" he insisted. Kurt continued to look at him sceptically, an eyebrow raised. "So, we should go and get coffee or something. Maybe even," he leaned in conspiratorially. "-leave the confines of this great educational establishment. As lovely as it is meeting by my car, we could try changing it up a little."

"Kinky," Kurt said dryly.

Blaine flushed right up to his ears. "Um. No. No, that-. I meant we could meet in different places."

Kurt smirked at him. "I know, Blaine."

"Right. Right, well," Blaine rubbed at the back of his neck before gesturing to him. "Like, where do you go for lunch? I don't think I've ever seen you in the dining hall."

"Quinn and I usually eat outside somewhere."

"Ah. Well, maybe we could all sit together sometime?"

Kurt hummed in vague agreement. "Yeah, maybe."

"But for now, do you want to go for coffee?"

"I can't today."

"Oh, well maybe tomorrow?" he tried hopefully.

"I can't do tomorrow either."

"Oh," Blaine attempted not to look too disappointed. "It's…fine. Maybe another time."

"I can't though."

"It's okay, don't worry about it."

"No, I literally mean I can't." Kurt jabbed a foot against the tarmac as he hung his head, the heat in his cheeks rising. "I'm grounded," he mumbled.

"You're…grounded?" Blaine repeated, biting back the smile threatening to spread across his face.

Kurt nodded into his chest, long graceful fingers playing nervously with one of his ear piercings.

"Oh wow," Blaine chuckled under his breath. "That's…oh wow. Don't be offended but you don't strike me as the type to actually pay attention to authority. I'm surprised being grounded even registers on your radar."

"I…may have tried skipping earlier in the week. Didn't go so well for me."

"No?"

"No," Kurt said flatly. "Really, really not."

"Huh," Blaine scratched his chin thoughtfully. "Dare I ask what happened?"

"My dad, uh," Kurt cleared his throat. "He, well, when I got back like, 4 hours late, I went up to my room and he, had uh, locked my closet. With like, five high security locks." Blaine fought back another smile with somewhat less success. "I couldn't get through any of them," Kurt added sadly.

Kurt looked so crestfallen that his father had thought to buy un-pickable locks that a laugh bubbled up before Blaine could hold it back. "Oh my God. Wow, sorry, talk about hitting you where it hurts."

Kurt scowled at him, his brow crinkled adorably. "Yeah, well. I didn't find it very funny. He said he won't open it until I go do some work for him."

"Oh, well, don't let me keep you any longer then," Blaine backed away. "I wouldn't want to be responsible for keeping you from your clothes."

"It's not just my clothes," he said almost inaudibly. Then in a louder tone, "But actually, about that…" Kurt shuffled awkwardly on the spot. "Iwaswonderinifyoudgimealift," he rushed out in one breath.

"Didn't catch that, sorry Kurt," Blaine said, cupping a hand to his ear.

"I was wondering if you would, um, give me a lift. To my dad's shop. I'm supposed to be there. Soon."

"You dad's shop? He's a mechanic?"

"Yeah," Kurt nodded. "He owns a garage on the other side of town."

"You're a mechanic's son and you don't have a car?"

"I have a car," he said snootily, jutting out his chin. "I just choose not to drive it."

"O-kay," Blaine said hesitantly, storing that away to ask about later. "Well, lucky for you it's a non-Glee day. It would be a pleasure to take you," he sent his most charming smile to Kurt. "Hop in."

He skirted around the car and climbed into the driver's seat while Kurt opened the door of the passenger's side. Blaine leant over quickly to clear the jumble of CDs and sheet music from Kurt's seat, apologising profusely for the mess.

Kurt just shrugged and helped shift the piles of stuff on to the back seats or into the glove compartment. He paused when he picked up one of the CDs, a soft expression passing across his face. Blaine craned his neck as discreetly as he could to try and see the title. It was his copy of the original soundtrack of The Sound of Music.

"Do you know it?" he asked curiously.

Kurt started and looked up at Blaine, his eyes wide and slightly glassy. For a moment he looked so incredibly vulnerable and young. He lowered himself into the seat, still clutching the CD possessively to his chest. He blinked slowly, and just like that his face reset, indifference settling heavily over his features.

He shrugged.

"You can put it on if you want," Blaine offered as he turned the key in the ignition and began to pull out of the school lot.

"No, it's okay. Whatever you were listening to is fine."

Blaine sighed and just let the radio play quietly in the background.

The silence dragged on in the car. Kurt was slouched away from him, the side of his head resting against the cool window. Blaine drove on, occasionally asking Kurt for directions. He only received one word, sometimes monosyllabic, answers.

"I'm confused," he stated eventually. Kurt glanced at him. "Are you trying to be all mysterious and enigmatic or do you just genuinely not want to talk to me? Because the amount of times you have initiated contact between us would say otherwise. You've got to stop shutting down on me."

Kurt just stared at him, expression unchanged.

"Come on, Kurt. Please, just, talk about something. Anything."

Kurt looked away, watching the scenery pass them quickly as they sped through the town. "I…don't know what you want me to talk about," he said quietly. "There's not much to say."

"Okay. Let's start with something easy. You like The Sound of Music?"

Kurt chuckled bitterly. "That is the furthest thing from easy."

"Okay, uh," Blaine wracked his brain for other topics. "Talk me through your outfit today. Maybe my education on your fashion choices can begin right here, right now. Because to me, no offence, but it kind of looks the same as yesterday's. Which, if it were true and I recall correctly, would be a heinous crime."

Kurt glared at him. "Blaine. You're fucking terrible at this. I just told you that my dad locked me out of my closet. Do the math."

Blaine flushed. "Sorry," he mumbled. He was making a complete mess of this.

Kurt shifted around in his chair and stared at Blaine calculatingly. "Blaine?"

"Yes?" he replied tentatively.

"Why did you transfer?"

"Um, well-" he paused. "My parents couldn't afford Dalton anymore?" It sounded weak even to his own ears.

"Bullshit," Kurt said simply. "Why did you really transfer?"

"I don't really…want to go into it right now."

"No?" Kurt asked. "Well then, let's move on. Why did you feel the need to clarify the fact that the bright red liquid on you was slushie and not anything else?"

Blaine opened his mouth and promptly closed it again.

"Exactly," Kurt said. "I'll try something else. Why did you feel the need to come into school at half seven the other morning when you obviously have no need of extra credit or are in danger of getting below an A in anything?"

"I don't think-" he stopped.

Kurt smirked at him, looking smugly across the car at him. "Not so easy is it? Sometimes it's nice not to question everything. Sometimes it's nice to just be, you know?"

Blaine shook his head lightly, but not in disagreement. He twisted his fingers around the steering wheel. "I just want to get to know you," he said softly, flicking his gaze over at Kurt.

"Why?"

Such a simple question. Unfortunately the simplest of questions often warrant the most impossible answers. He replied with a question of his own. "Why do you keep coming to my car?"

"I don't know," Kurt hesitated. He looked as lost as Blaine felt.

"Then why did you help me that day? With the slushie?

"Because you looked so helpless. Anyone could have done it," Kurt dismissed.

"But that's just the point I don't think you get. Anyone could, but no-one actually did. Only one person out of a whole corridor full of people did."

He pulled up into the front parking lot of the garage and turned off the engine, twisting in his seat to look at Kurt properly.

"But it's because you're different, because you're not like the rest of them," he insisted, desperate for Kurt to understand. "For whatever reason, you helped me. And that makes me want to get to know you."

Kurt twisted his hands in his lap, then seemed to force himself to stop. "Okay. But you've got to talk as well. It's got to go both ways."

Blaine quirked a corner of his mouth in teasing amusement. "Kinky."

Kurt whacked him on the arm with a release of tension. "Asshole. And that's an incredibly tenuous innuendo," he added.

His smile widened into a free grin. "But it is an innuendo nonetheless," he said smartly.

Kurt mouth twitched into a fleeting smile, the elusive twinkle Blaine had only glimpsed a couple of times returning to his eyes.

"Also," Blaine said, "I realised that we haven't even exchanged numbers."

Kurt sighed with a long-suffering roll of his eyes, but reached for his bag and pulled out his phone. "Just as long as you don't expect to be exchanging friendship bracelets or skipping through the fields holding hands any time soon."

He paused.

"I will give you my number."

Kurt refused point blank to be in a photo for Blaine's contacts (he still managed to take a stealthy one when Kurt thought he wasn't trying anymore though), but he was still there in Blaine's phone. Progress.

Blaine opened his mouth to reply but was interrupted by a sharp knocking on his window. A tall man wearing mechanic's overalls and a cap was standing expectantly outside the car, motioning for Kurt to roll down the window.

Blaine glanced back at Kurt. He seemed to have shut down completely in the millisecond Blaine hadn't been looking at him. Once again, a blank yet tense look overcame his face, washing away all vestiges of openness that Blaine had been revelling in. His body language had changed abruptly; where he had been previously sat relaxed, slightly twisted around to talk to Blaine, he was now rigid and uncomfortable in his seat, hand immediately winding its way through his hair before fiddling at his earring.

Kurt closed his eyes slowly and took a deep breath before opening the window.

"Yes?" he asked flatly.

The man ducked down to the level of the car. "Hey buddy, and -Blaine, I assume?"

Blaine nodded slightly uncertainly, glancing between the two men. "Yes, sir."

Burt leant through the car across Kurt to grasp Blaine's hand. "Burt Hummel."

"It's a pleasure to meet you," Blaine said politely.

"You should come over sometime. It'd be nice to meet some of Kurt's proper friends."

Kurt was still only looking forward through the windshield at wide gaping doors of the garage. Blaine scanned his face for some kind of signal as to whether he would be welcome or not, but his face was set in an unfathomable mask, no emotion given any chance to escape.

"That would be lovely," Blaine said hesitantly, still searching Kurt's face. He gave no sign of approval or disproval.

Burt nodded and then clapped Kurt on the shoulder. "You gonna get in here sometime today or what?" he said cheerfully. "That closet isn't gonna unlock itself!"

Kurt nodded infinitesimally and silently gathered his things, muttering goodbye to Blaine as he slipped out of the car.

Blaine watched as Kurt slunk away from his father and Blaine, a little relieved that he wasn't the only one Kurt shut down on.


A/N: So I just wanted to adress something that someone has said really quickly. Only one person said it, but I thought about this point a lot before I'd even started writing the whole story so I'm going to expand on it. They said that the Kurt wasn't skanky enough, or that they didn't believe that he reacted in a certain way 'skanky' enough. (That doesn't even make grammatical sense but hopefully you get my drift.) Basically, for this to be a multi-chapter story centred (at least for now) around Kurt, to have him be a completely indifferent superior asshole the whole time is not interesting. At all. There needs to be something more than that. I'm not saying that he is going to turn into the paragon of virtue, or suddenly become completely canon!Kurt, but there needs to be something more lying beneath the surface that causes him to react in different ways than you might expect.

Sorry for the slight rambling. I don't want to pick certain reviews out, I really do appreciate all of them, but I had something to say at it :).

Anyway. Muchas gracias for reviews, reads, follows and favourites yet again. And I don't think I've thanked mrssosostris on here so huge thanks and hugs go to her for her time and thoughts :D :D