A/N: Hello and welcome back! Thank you so much for all the love, ya'll have given the last two chapters! Really makes my day. So, in this chapter, we have Kurt's first physical therapy appointment and a little more time with Blaine. Will Blaine still be a jerk? I guess you'll need to read to find out...Enjoy!

Disclaimer: I do not own Glee

Chapter 3

By the end of Kurt's first week at the school, he'd accomplished one of his two goals: he'd seamlessly prepared to take over Darla's younger classes on his own by the next week. He felt confident in his ability to wrangle these children and perhaps, at some point, actually teach them a hint of dance somewhere along the line.

His second goal was proving harder to achieve though: avoid Blaine. The school was small and somehow, even in Kurt's nonexistent breaks between classes, he never failed to see the man of his loathing. Sometimes it was in the parking lot as he was leaving and Blaine was looking frustratingly good as he unloaded some kind of large, scary looking power tool from the bed of his pickup. Sometimes it was in the brief moments Kurt spent at the front desk, simultaneously trying to build rapport with the dance moms and also hide from their appreciative stares (which was a hard line to walk). However, Blaine would breeze through the lobby and the moms, momentarily distracted, would call out hellos and adoring compliments and he would smile this charming smile and warmly greet the letches. That charming smile that was never aimed at Kurt. That skipped completely over him and disappeared the moment their eyes met.

All of this was frustrating enough but it paled in comparison to Kurt's first real physical therapy session on Monday, after his classes were done. Kurt hadn't known what he'd been expecting but it had not been this. It hadn't been the fact that he spent one hour doing calf raises and deep stretches and stabilizing exercises, things that wouldn't have had him breaking a sweat a few months ago. The fact that these things absolutely wrecked him later that night, when his body realized what he'd been doing? That had been the part he really hadn't expected.

His physical therapist had warned him that it would be very painful in the beginning, but Kurt had to push through and it would get easier. Slowly but surely.

Kurt had left physical therapy, feeling a little sore, but otherwise, pretty optimistic. But on the drive home, in the 30 minutes it took him to travel back to Cassville, he felt that familiar tightening in his legs. The thrumming, throbbing pulses of pain starting to shoot out of his lower back. He pressed down a little harder on the pedal, praying that he'd get home before he lost the feeling in his feet.

And make it, he did. But just barely. He threw himself up the stairs, stumbling a few times and locked himself in his room. He lay, sprawled out on the bed and finally succumbed to the pain. He was left breathless, speechless, over the intensity of it.

The little movements he'd been doing at physical therapy must have been working because his body was responding. Not very kindly, but responding nonetheless.

And that was probably good and he should probably be grateful, but Kurt couldn't feel any of that when all he could feel was his legs and his back and white hot heat.

Kurt skipped dinner that night, completely and totally overwhelmed by not only the pain but the terrible claw of fear squeezing his heart, making it hard to breath, making his vision grow dim. What if this was just life now? What if this was what the rest of his time would be like?

Fuck, was he even going to be able to teach tomorrow? He couldn't not go in. It would be only his second day flying solo and Darla needed his help. And, if he was really being honest with himself, he needed the distraction. Otherwise, he'd spend his entire summer, just like this, paralyzed by fear and crippling pain, in his bed, sweating. Always fucking sweating.

When Kurt woke on Tuesday, he lay very, very still. He took a tentative breath, letting consciousness wash over him, very controlled, very cautious. He felt no outright signs of shooting pain or numbness in his back or legs. That was good, definite improvement.

Gingerly, Kurt sat up and swung his legs over the edge of the bed, letting his feet rest on the floor for a few moments before slowly, putting some weight on them.

And he was fine.

He stood, he walked to the bathroom, he brushed his teeth, he was fine. He was definitely stiff and sore but he was upright and mobile and really, beggars can't be choosers. Kurt sighed in relief, but also felt that nagging frustration that had hung, like a dark storm cloud over his head for months now. How was it fair that his body, with no consideration for him and his plans, got to decide when it would and would not function properly? It was bullshit, that's what it was.

He showered and threw on his go to outfit for the school of some shorts and a t-shirt. It wasn't the most glamorous, but it was the best he could do when it was perpetually a thousand degrees outside and even hotter in a tiny dance studio surrounded by 20 or so kids.

He slid his sunglasses on, grabbed his small duffle bag and was out the door. After a few days of heavy nagging, he had finally been able to convince Darla to let him open the school in the morning so she could sleep in a little. She was usually still arriving midway through Kurt's first class, but he was proud of her for attempting to relax a little.

He arrived at the school, closed and quiet. It seemed almost odd in juxtaposition to how busy it was at all other hours. But those first thirty minutes of the day were some of Kurt's favorites. When he could get the class room ready and go to the bar. Even if he didn't get to do a whole lot of dancing in his classes, he still warmed up every morning. It was good practice and something Kurt had been taught to do his entire life. A little spinal injury hardly seemed like something that should get in his way now.

So Kurt stood, one hand gripping the bar and looking at himself in the mirror. He started with demi plies, smoothly moving into grande plies. He imagined the muscles of his legs stretching out, long and strong, solving all of the stiffness as if it wasn't caused by some greater problem.

He flexed his feet and then pointed them. Tendu, into degage: To stretch and then, lifting his leg, keeping it all straight and strong, to disengage.

Kurt rolled his neck round and round, eyes closed, losing himself in the ritual of warming up. If he tried hard enough, maybe he could pretend that it was just another day, back in New York, before class, before rehearsal. He could pretend that he had that delicious bagel waiting for him for lunch. He could pretend that he wasn't scared out of his mind.

His leg swept out beside him, skimming the floor in a semi circle in a rond de jamb. He moved both legs in turn, making sure he was evenly stretched. He could pretend that his little apartment was waiting for him, just a long walk or a quick subway ride away. He could pretend that his body was still his ally.

Kurt gracefully straightened one of his legs out, raising it high, developpe. But as his leg reached near full extension, he felt his back send out a quick twinge of protest. Nothing serious, more of a warning shot that he was pushing too far and it made him want to scream.

Kurt flinched and he instantly dropped his leg. In the same movement, his eyes snapped open only to find his own eyes directly in front of him in the mirror, somehow looking older than he remembered from even this morning. But those weren't the only eyes he found, oh no. Because he'd left the door to the classroom open and, apparently, the school. And there, over his shoulder in the mirror, was a pair of bright hazel eyes boring into his.

Kurt whipped around, his body sharply reminding him that it was a bitch and he flinched again. In an effort to hide it, he snapped, "What are you doing here?" It wasn't particularly clever but Kurt really thought he might cry right now and just wanted to do so in peace. Was that too much to ask?

Blaine looked at him with an unreadable expression. He had been loitering outside the room but now took a step forward to casually lean on the door jamb. He shrugged, "I got here a little early and the front door was unlocked."

Kurt just stared back, emotions all over the place and desperately wanting to be alone. "Well, the bathroom is down the hall on your left, in case you've forgotten."

Blaine just stared back at him, as if he wanted to ask a question and was weighing his options. He looked at Kurt without warmth but, for once, devoid of all hostility too. It was unnerving.

"Can I help you?" Kurt asked rudely, "because I have a class to get ready for and, if I remember correctly, you don't exactly like me."

And with that, the coldness settled back in Blaine's eyes. It's funny, Kurt thought, in a world that's positively melting around me, Blaine's eyes are the only thing that are cold. Another part of Kurt's brain cut in though: And even that doesn't feel good.

Before Kurt could unpack that, he heard a mean little chuckle escape under Blaine's breath as he shoved off the door jamb he'd been leaning on. "You're right; I don't. I don't like rude city kids who think they're better than everyone else."

Kurt stared at him, a familiar rage that only seemed reserved for this curly headed asshole, started to boil. However, the little bell above the door tinkled and with that, the first student came rushing in.

"Kuuuuuurrrttt!" They yelled, running full speed to slam into his legs, hugging him like he'd just come home from war.

Kurt winced at the impact but pushed through. "Hey there Anna Banana!" He bent down, regretting the movement the whole way down, until he gave her a hug and she clung to his neck like a monkey. Kurt laughed, a little breathless with his soreness and how not good this position was for his back and said, "You ready to dance today?"

Anna released him to shout out a yes and then ran off to greet some of her friends that had just come in.

Kurt smiled after her and stood up, hand on his lower back like he'd seen pregnant women do before. If it hadn't been so aggravating, he would have laughed at that.

But as Kurt straightened up, he looked to the door, where Blaine was still standing. That strange look back in his eyes as he observed Kurt. A look of uncertainty and worry and skepticism and so much more that Kurt couldn't place.

Kurt merely quirked an eyebrow at him, breaking the handy-man from his contemplation. Blaine raised his hands, as if in surrender and walked away.

No insult, no icy glare. Just a wordless retreat.

Some might call that progress.

The rest of Tuesday passed in a flurry of excited kids and their uncoordinated flailing limbs. It was a little bit like groundhog day, but Kurt was mildly shocked to learn that he didn't really mind that. The monotony of his day was soothing; a good balance of stimulating and mindless.

The bigger shock came as Kurt left for the day. He squeezed through the lobby, swearing that he felt a hand slap his ass on the way out, followed by a peal of giggles. Out in the parking lot, Kurt walked to his car, only to see Blaine, parked a few spots over, rooting through the bed of his truck, looking for something.

Blaine's tanned skin seemed to shine in the sun, as if it was in its natural habitat and Kurt may have stared, just a little bit. But it really was just a little bit and he hated himself for it. Especially when the beautiful bully, seemingly sensing his gaze, looked up and caught him in the act.

Blaine just stared back for a moment. No frown, no disgust, just stared back. His eyes narrowed, ever so slightly, but not in the cool calculated judging way Kurt had become accustomed to with him. No, it was as if he was trying to unravel Kurt. Trying to see beyond his layers. Kurt stood still, letting him try.

The comfortable silence between was broken as Blaine muttered, "Um, you leaving?"

Kurt nodded and tugged on the strap of his duffle bag, "Yup. Done for the day."

Blaine nodded, "Well...have a nice day."

And with that, Kurt wished him the same and got in his car and pulled out of the parking lot and wondered why in the hell Blaine was suddenly being civil with him.

It made no sense. First, Blaine immediately assumes Kurt is some stuck up snob with a superiority complex and pretty much spits in his face. He cooly ignored and sneered at him for days after and then, what? Did he have some sort of change of heart over the weekend and now he's being tolerant? Agreeable? Dare he even say, polite? Gasp!

And what was with these calculating looks he was giving him? Kurt felt like he was being examined. Like Blaine was trying to see his merit or his honor or something.

Based on what Darla had said, Blaine was very wary of strangers. Outsiders, Kurt's brain snidely supplied. Perhaps Blaine was re-evaluating him. Maybe he would change his mind.

And as much as Kurt hated it and for reasons he didn't understand, he sort of hoped he would.

Once again, in a vain attempt to empty his mind of a particular man and the gentle throbbing that was persisting down his legs, Kurt had dinner ready by the time Darla got home. Once she was washed up, they crowded into the little table and dug into their spinach and feta omelettes. Breakfast for dinner was one of Darla's favorites and Kurt had to admit, he had quite the soft spot for Darla. The look on her face as she realized that not only had he cooked for her, but remembered one of her favorites? It was not only wonderful, but a little heartbreaking. How a woman as kind and beautiful as this had never married and had a half dozen children was a mystery Kurt couldn't quite solve. Sure, she had a demanding job and tended to prioritize that over her happiness, but one would think that someone would have seen through that at some point.

"So, darlin', how was your first physical therapy session yesterday? You skipped supper last night and you were flying out the door as I was waking up, but I wanted to check in," Darla chirped, interrupting his musings.

"Fine." Kurt lied, taking a bit of his omelette just to have some excuse not to say more.

"Fine?" Darla questioned.

"Mm-hm." Kurt hummed. The less words he actually said, the less it felt like lying. "So, Blaine actually said more than two words to me today, and they weren't a verbal assault, so that's...something, I guess." Kurt pivoted, blurting out the first thing on his brain. Which of course, was Blaine.

Darla hummed in return, a small smile blooming onto her lips that she tried to hide with a large gulp of sweet tea. "Well, that's nice. I'm glad to hear it." She patted Kut's hand and moved to stand from the table.

Darla's secret smiles, Blaine's unwavering soul searching stare. Kurt felt like there was some big joke that he just wasn't aware of and it was starting to get a little old.

Wednesday started out promising enough. The day was just as hot and sunny as the last one and the day before that and the day before that, but Kurt's body seemed to be in an agreeable mood. He got out of bed and to the school with a smile on his face the whole way.

His classes flew by and before he knew it, he was done for the day. Wanting to take advantage of his good mood and his body's silent decree to be his friend today, he decided to stick around and observe Darla's classes.

It was an odd sort of torture, watching Darla and these young men and women being able to push themselves without fear of breaking. He envied so much of their naivety. It was innocent and pure and so frustrating to Kurt that eventually, he needed to leave the room. Silently, he slipped out into the lobby and perched himself on the stool behind the front desk.

There weren't as many parents in the lobby at this time of day, most of the students having driven themselves or walked. However, there was a mother sitting in the far corner, knitting away at a beautiful red sweater and Kurt just couldn't help but call out, "Is it ever cold enough to wear a sweater around here?"

The mom looked up, almost as if broken from an intense concentration, which perhaps she was. She had light brown hair and matching eyes that were huge and blinked at Kurt, once, twice before a warm smile overtook her face. "Well, no not really," she admitted with a giggle, "But I have a cousin who lives up in Vermont so I thought I'd start on this now."

Kurt nodded, "Well, it's beautiful." He offered. He was desperate to reclaim that good mood he'd woken up with, but he wasn't lying. It was a beautiful sweater. "I'm Kurt, by the way. I'm Darla's nephew."

"Oh hon, we know," Another mom in the lobby interjected with yet another kind smile. The other moms nodded, a sea of sweet smiles.

The first mom nodded in agreement. "I'm Linda," She answered, "And that's Patti," she gestured to the other woman who had spoken, who had very short, unnaturally red hair and was wearing a catastrophe of leopard print. She then pointed to a tiny, diminutive woman, "And that's Twila."

Kurt nodded kindly at all of them. This group seemed to be far less rowdy than the morning crew and it was a relief. Before he knew it, he was sitting in one of the cold plastic lobby chairs, next to Linda as she explained her stitches to him. It was easy and simple and he sort of cherished how easy it was to talk to these women. Made him feel like a real person who still existed. He had had the most peculiar feeling that he'd been disappearing lately.

As the class let out, last of the day, Kurt bid the ladies farewell and promised them that he would stay late some other time to chat. And he really meant it; he was looking forward to it. They had done such a good job at lifting his spirits, in fact, that Kurt pushed Darla out of the front door, insisting that she let him close up for the night. After some protesting, she agreed and, with a somewhat relieved look, kissed him on the cheek and left.

Somewhere in that mixing of the lobby, Blaine had left for the day, so Kurt cleaned the class rooms, tidied up the lobby and turned the lights out in a blissful silence. Cherishing these moments but also trying to ignore the way the silence pulled at his heart. It was so familiar to him: the silence. He positively bathed in it back in New York. And while he was used to it, a little dark part of his heart had to admit that he didn't really mind the alternative: a bright, colorful life filled with noise.

Kurt locked up and made his way towards his car only to find that, a few spots over, as it had been yesterday, was Blaine's truck. However, this time, the hood of Blaine's truck was open and he was staring at it, brow furrowed and arms crossed. The universal body language of someone having car problems.

Kurt hesitated, thinking over Darla's words from a few nights ago. Telling Kurt that Blaine would be wary but that he was a good person. Kurt considered that Blaine had been civil to him the day before. He screwed his mouth up into a determined line and turned to walk towards Blaine.

"Car troubles?" He called, only a little hesitant.

Blaine jumped a little and his eyes flew to his unexpected companion in this otherwise empty parking lot. "Um...yeah." He rubbed the back of his neck, looking tense as he turned back to examine his truck again.

"Um," Kurt really wished Blaine would make this easier for him; meet him halfway or something. "Do you want some help? I could take a look if you like?" Everything came out as a question.

Blaine made an undignified snort and cocked an eyebrow, giving Kurt the side eye. "I think I can figure it out, city kid. Wouldn't want you to break a nail or something."

Aw, there he was; the bastard that Kurt had first met. The one who made his blood boil. The one who had seemingly taken a break from hating him yesterday but decided he would resume now.

Kurt bristled under his words, "Look," He spat, "I know you think I'm some helpless city kid who doesn't know the first thing about a hard days' work or manual labor but I was born in Ohio. My dad owned a tire shop. And I spent almost every weekend for 18 years working in that tire shop, so the correct answer when I ask if you need help with your car is Yes Kurt, thank you Kurt, I can't believe you'd be so helpful when I'm being such an asshole, you're so kind and selfless-"

"-And humble. Don't forget humble." Blaine interrupted, a ghost of a smile tilting his lips into a crooked smile.

There was pause, as they each looked at one another. Weighing their options.

"Do you want my help?" Kurt finally asked. He kept his voice firm and direct.

Blaine bit his bottom lip, holding eye contact with Kurt, once again like he was trying to see his very soul. Making a determination about his character. Blaine finally sighed. "Sure, have at it." He gestured towards his truck and took a few steps back to give Kurt room. It felt a little bit like a white flag had been waved. Like a gate had been opened.

Kurt strode over, taking his duffle bag off of his shoulder and placing it on the ground. He leaned over the engine, giving it a quick visual once over, seeing if anything was obviously wrong with it before digging in.

"Grew up in Ohio?" Blaine said, his voice sounded almost like he was just as surprised that he'd actually said something as Kurt was.

"Yeah," Kurt said, keeping his head down to examine his work.

"I grew up in Ohio too. Before coming here, that is."

At that, Kurt raised his head and shot a look over to Blaine. The other man was looking down at his feet, shuffling a little awkwardly.

"Huh," Kurt said. "Small world, I guess, right?" Not sure of what else to say, he said, "How old were you when you moved here?"

Blaine chuckled, a harsh noise, "I was seven, but you know that already, don't you?" Kurt looked up to find venom laced hazel eyes glaring at him.

"What are you talking about?" Kurt said, feeling exhausted from this man's mood swings.

"Everyone knows everyone's business here. I find it hard to believe that no one has told you about little baby Blaine and his tragic story. But I don't need your pity-"

"My mom died when I was nine." Kurt cut in. Blaine shut right the fuck up, looking at Kurt with wide eyes, mouth agape. "I don't pity you." Kurt said, barely above a whisper, wondering why on earth he had said that. His mother wasn't some dirty secret, god no. But Kurt didn't normally bring her up unprovoked and definitely not with people he potentially hated in a parking lot while he worked on their truck.

"You have a small hose leak. I can fix it though, I have a little kit in my car." Kurt spoke evenly, not even looking at Blaine.

He retrieved his kit and came back. He cut the small section of defective hose out and used the rubber cement in his kit to fuse the two ends back together. The silence was tense and thick between them.

Kurt sighed, "Why do you hate me?"

He expected Blaine to laugh at him or insult him further but was stunned when, after a second, Blaine released a matching sigh. "I don't hate you. At least...I don't think I do."

Kurt lowered the hood and let it fall the last few inches so it closed with a thump. He found an extra white t-shirt in his duffle bag and used it to wipe his hands free of grease. He waited for Blaine to continue, giving him the floor.

"I just...I care about this town, about these people. And I...it always makes me nervous when new people come to town…"

Kurt nodded. He knew as much, Darla had told him. But it meant a lot coming from Blaine himself. At least he was self aware, that had to count for something, right? "Well," Kurt said, shoving the ruined t-shirt back into his bag, "I'm not here to trick old ladies into a pyramid scheme or anything. I promise, scouts honor even."

"Oh scouts honor, even? That's pretty serious. Almost as serious as a legally binding contract or a pinky swear." Blaine immediately quipped, a small genuine smile on his lips, looking up tentatively at Kurt. It was the first Kurt had ever seen on him before.

Kurt smiled back, "Seriously though. I'm just here on leave from work. I needed something to do this summer and Darla needed help. Seemed like a pretty good deal for both of us, so here I am. You don't have to like me but I'll be out of your hair in 12 weeks, so can you maybe at least tolerate me until then?"

Blaine seemed to honestly consider this but he nodded, soon enough. "I can do that."

"Thank you." Kurt said, really meaning it. The one road bump he'd encountered (besides the whole, possible nerve damage thing) was flattening out before his very eyes and it felt good.

They both loitered around a bit, not sure how to end things. But Blaine surprised him, by seemingly not wanting to. "Do you miss your home?"

What an odd question for him to ask, Kurt thought. Blaine always seemed to zig when he thought he would zag. It was fascinating and he found that he just wanted to know more about how his brain worked. "I mean...I miss my job." Kurt said carefully and then realized, "I assume you know why I'm here? Since 'everyone knows everyone's business'?" He quoted.

Blaine looked at him a little guiltily, but nodded, "Injury?"

Kurt nodded and hurried ahead, hoping to still any further questions on that particular subject. "So, yeah, I miss work and dance. Oh and the bagels. I miss the bagels most of all." He said jokingly, but not really joking all that much.

Blaine laughed, a joyous sound that made Kurt realize why Darla had said he was impossible not to love. The laugh suited him wonderfully. "We have bagels here, you know."

"Oh but not like a New York bagel. They're sort of known for that."

"I thought they were known for cheesecake." Blaine said.

"Well yes but-"

"Or pizza. Isn't New York style pizza like...a whole thing?"

"Yes but New York is known for a lot of things. Including cheesecake and pizza."

"And bagels apparently." Blaine added with a smile, almost as if they had some sort of inside joke now.

"And bagels." Kurt smiled. "Aaaand, now I'm hungry." Kurt said and enjoyed another one of Blaine's laughs. It was astounding that a man he'd been convinced hated him just a few days ago was now laughing at his joke and having easy, natural banter with him.

"Well, I'll leave you to get home to your dinner then." Blaine said, moving to get into his truck. "I uh...thank you. For your help, Hummel."

Kurt nodded, "You're welcome, see you tomorrow?" He said, taking a few steps towards his car.

Blaine nodded and pulled out of his spot, driving away.

Kurt stood in the empty parking lot, still bathed in a golden evening light, rooted to his spot, wondering what the actual fuck had just happened.

A/N: Now that's what I would call progress, right? A budding friendship is one of my absolute favorite things to write. So what did you think? Please leave a review and don't forget to follow and/or favorite so you don't miss the next chapter! Thank you and see you next time! Enjoy the rest of your weekend!