If you recognise it, it's not mine.


Wes said it was Jeff's fault.

Jeff said it was Blaine's fault.

Blaine said it was Thad's fault.

Thad said it was Nick's fault.

Nick said it was David's fault.

David said it was Kurt's fault.

Kurt rolled his eyes at all of them, pointed out that Wes had been driving, got out of the van and started messing around with the engine. The bewildered Warblers stared at him. Blaine rolled down the window. "Kurt, what are you doing?"

"Currently checking the oil level of this heap of junk you like to call a van," Kurt said crisply. Wes spluttered in protest.

David wound down his window. "Why are you poking at the engine?"

"I'm not poking it, I'm trying to fix it," came the response. Wes got out of the van and stood next to him, trying to understand what was going on.

"Is it that?" he said, pointing to something which looked like it had fallen off an alien spaceship. Kurt gave him a withering look.

Wes got back in the van.

Suddenly, Kurt slammed the engine shut, budged Wes aside to sit in the driver's seat, and turned the key. The van shook a little, coughed briefly and died again. Kurt brushed dust from his hands, looking ruefully at the oil smudges. "You're out of fuel," he said briskly. Wes stared at him.

"No, I'm not."

"Yeah, you are. Tell you what, I'll call my dad to pick us up."

"You don't need to do that, I'll just call the garage. I've been meaning to get this looked at for a while now," Wes said, pulling out his phone. Kurt waited patiently while he talked with the garage, drumming his fingers on the dashboard. Wes hung up a few minutes later. "He'll be here in around half an hour."

The others groaned. Kurt sighed. "Wes, what garage do you use?" he asked calmly.

"Hummel Tyres and Lube. Granted, it's quite far away, but the service is excellent," Wes replied. Kurt stared at him pointedly.

"Oh."

"Yes," Kurt said dryly. "Clue's in the name, gentlemen."

"Oh!" Jeff cried, working it out a few seconds later. Kurt raised an eyebrow at him. Wes blushed scarlet, and the next twenty or so minutes passed in an awkward silence. David attempted to start up a rendition of 'Drive My Car', but everyone was too busy trying to figure out how Kurt could possibly be a mechanic in his spare time to give it much thought. The countertenor in question was currently attempting to clean the oil off his hands with a handful of damp grass. Eventually an old tow truck pulled up in the layby in front of the van. A man Wes vaguely recognised as Kurt's father climbed out. Kurt ran to meet him, talking a mile a minute. Mr Hummel pulled open the hood and prodded the engine a few times, his movements scarily similar to his son's, before leaning in and turning the key. The van barely twitched.

"You're out of fuel, kid," Mr Hummel stated, his voice gruff and deep. Wes blinked, looking at the badly covered smirks of his friends and Kurt's 'I told you so' face.

"Oh," he said again.