AN: Hi guys! Happy New Years! Lol

Hope your year ends up being a great one. :)

Positive vibes and thoughts only. :)

Oh jeeez I haven't updated this since July! I'm so sorry. I'll try to do better this year.

Anyways, this chapter was fun to work on. :)

Thank you to umbrella0326 for helping a sista out! :)

Guys, if it wasn't for him this chapter wouldn't be up. Lol

Go check out his stories. He's a genius! :)

I won't spoil this so with that THANK YOU all from the bottom of my heart. :)

Song is "That's Amore" by Dean Martin.

If you have questions, let me know. Have a great day!-ILOVESMESOMEGLEEX3

Chapter 5

GODDAMN, HE SNORES LOUD.

Blaine ignored his dad's sleeping form and focused more on his hair. He needed more Bryl-Cream. He always seemed to need something around the house. The idea that Blaine Anderson was a bit of an egomaniac wasn't all that farfetched, considering how handsome he was. He knew it of course. He'd say things to himself like, 'Blaine Anderson, you devil!' or 'Anderson. Blaine Anderson' a la James Bond. He smiled at his reflection in the mirror and pulled the chain cord to turn off the overhead light.

He only needed three things that morning – Bryl-Cream, Lucky Strikes, and a comb. That's it. There was no need for breakfast when he considered the Hummels would probably be nice enough to feed him. After all, he was their slave (or assistant as Judge Brown insisted) and he would be keen to remember that. The alternative was a month in the slammer.

Jail isn't hard. But it isn't fun either.

Blaine left. He ignored his dad's grunts in bed and clomped down the stairs. However, he knew to creep quietly by Lorette Lapinsky's door. He knew she'd bug him about the rent again and he didn't have it. But when you live as a thief, you know how to dodge certain situations. Blaine crept on floorboards that didn't squeak, jumping like a trained hopscotch player. A little smile even formed on his face when he lept for the door and escaped detection.

Another sunny day. The Midwest can be famous for rain, clouds, cold, gloom. But not that Indian summer day. It was just pure sunshine and Blaine sang a popular song…

When you dance down the street with a cloud at your feet

You're in love

When you walk in a dream but you know you're not dreaming signore

Scuzza me, but you see, back in old Napoli

That's amore

An even wider smile formed on his face as he sang and almost danced down Main Street in downtown Lima. Blaine wore his custom attire for the day – a tight t-shirt, faded blue jeans, and black boots. Girls would eye him and he'd flirt back. Guys would glare at him and Blaine just ignored them. When the song's lyrics just demanded dance moves, he glided around a phone booth and people stared at him. Blaine Anderson was truly in his element as he reached for a cigarette. Unfortunately, he forgot one thing.

A Zippo.

Scowling a little, he spotted a five and dime store and walked towards it. However, he was stopped in his tracks when a man emerged in front of him. This elderly gentleman wore a Fedora hat and dark sunglasses. Blaine was temporarily caught off guard when he saw the man's walking stick.

"Oh! Excuse me!" Blaine exclaimed, holding the door open for the exiting man.

"Oh!" He mummered. "You scared me, young man."

But the punk looked a little confused. "You…you know I'm young?"

"Well, of course!" He happily said. "I can smell your Bryl-Cream. And your singing voice is a little flat."

Blaine was flabbergasted! "You could hear me?"

"Son, when you're blind, EVERYTHING is heightened. Now you have a good day, boy."

"You too, sir!"

The man tipped his Fedora and walked on. Blaine watched the cane tap from right to left and back again. EVERYTHING IS HEIGHTENED. The phrase stuck with Blaine and it confused him a little. And how dare he say Blaine's pitch was flat?

He chuckled a little and entered the store. Two minutes later, he emerged and lit a cigarette. It was only another ten minutes or so to get to the Hummels, so he enjoyed his little stroll. Housewives dotted the sidewalks from time to time. He watched them flirt with milkmen, mailmen, door-to-door salesmen, and…men. He smiled at that and shook his head.

Sex is always in demand.

Blaine finally arrived at the Hummel's household. Everything seemed in its right place – the yard was freshly mowed, the mailbox's flag was up, empty milk bottles sat on the porch, and the newspaper was begging to be picked up just as he approached the front door. Suddenly, it opened.

Kurt flew past him. "C'mon. We're leaving."

Blaine exhaled some cigarette smoke. "Well, alrighty then!" He dropped his butt on the porch and remembered how the Hummels weren't smokers. So, he picked up the litter and jogged to catch up to Kurt. Behind Blaine, Burt watched the thief actually run to his son.

"What's the hurry?" Blaine huffed. He slowed when he got beside Kurt. "Have the Soviets started bombing-?"

"No." Kurt primly said. He adjusted his thick glasses on his nose. "I just…had to get out of there."

Before Blaine thought about it, he asked, "Why?"

"That's none of your damn business, Anderson!"

"OK, OK. No need to be sore. You don't have to soak my head."

Kurt sighed. "I just… C'mon!" He increased his pace, but kept his head down to see the sidewalk.

Blaine watched everything. Kurt seemed clearly agitated but not with him. So, Blaine shrugged his shoulders and reached for a Lucky Strike. He pulled it from his jeans pocket and inspected his pack. He would need more smokes soon and he grimaced a little. At least he had enough to get through the morning and then he'd figure out what to do after that. But he was so absorbed with his cigarettes that he had no idea Kurt was watching him the whole time.

"How much are those…smelly things?" Kurt asked.

Blaine blinked. "A quarter."

"A quarter?"

"Yeah. Why?"

Kurt sighed. "YES, I'll get you a pack of…whatever you smoke."

Blaine blinked again. "No, you're not. And they're called Lucky Strikes. And they're very good. And tasty. And-"

"They stink. And you shouldn't be smoking."

"Who says?"

"Me!"

"And who are you?"

Kurt clenched his fists. "You KNOW who I am, you dork!"

"Well, you ain't the boss o' me!"

Kurt became REALLY incensed. "When you're with me I am! And don't forget what the judge ORDERED you to do. Anderson, when I think-!"

"Blaine."

Kurt came to a stop. "Huh?"

"Stop calling me Anderson!"

Kurt put his hands on his hips. "And just why the hell not?"

Blaine coyly smiled. "Oooooh, you swore!"

Kurt's eyes widened. "I didn't!"

"Yes, you did!"

"No, I didn't!"

"Yes, you did and I'm gonna tell!"

"You better not!"

"You did, you did, you did, you did, you-!"

"Shut up, Blaine!"

Both boys came to complete and sudden halt. They stared at each other and Kurt could only make out the vague qualities of this good-looking counterpart. Blaine watched Kurt's struggle but didn't really think about it when they BOTH considered what had just happened.

Kurt called him Blaine.

It was the Hummel boy who resumed walking first. Blaine rolled his eyes and lit a cigarette. For the next few minutes, the walk was in silence. That was until Blaine realized they were walking away from downtown Lima.

"Hey." Blaine muttered.

"Mmm?" Kurt answered.

"Where are we going?"

"Service station."

"A service station?! Why?"

Kurt shoved his hands in his jean pockets. "Do you have to ask me so many questions?"

Blaine shrugged. "Just curious. But it's solid if you don't wanna tell me."

Kurt's response was a long sigh until he finally said, "We're almost there."

But the punk looked around and didn't see any businesses around. "Where?"

"The damn service station!"

And then, Blaine had a moment that everyone always regrets from time to time – he opened his mouth and asked a question. A certain question. One of those questions that always seems to start an argument or is completely inappropriate. But he couldn't stop himself.

"How can you tell?" He asked.

Kurt's eyes went wide with rage and he ripped his glasses off. "Because I can smell it, you louse! Now come on!"

Kurt marched ahead of him. And Blaine just watched him go. Sure, it wouldn't take much for the punk to catch up to him and something told him that would be important. He remembered that the sidewalks could be a bit bumpy and he didn't want Kurt to fall. The very last thing he needed was to have this spoiled, rich kid fall and HE'D get blamed for it. So, he trotted up to Kurt and could see that he was walking just fine. Kurt looked over at him and saw Blaine looking down. A soft breeze blew by and Kurt put his glasses back on.

"We're here."

Again, Blaine looked up. Hands on his hips, he looked up and down the street. "Um, OK. Where…again?"

Kurt pointed off towards the alley. Blaine peered around and behind a bank building stood a little service station. An attendant was dressed in his Shell attire, complete with a narrow tie and hat.

"I didn't even see that there!" Blaine exclaimed.

But Kurt looked just a little sad. "Sometimes, it's not always easy to see everything."

Neither boy said anything after that. They just resumed walking towards the gas station. And when they got there, Blaine completely understood what Kurt meant by the odor. Service stations were often greasy and petrol-laden. He never really focused on this before and didn't give it much thought.

Until then.

And he realized something as they opened the door of the facility. Gas stations really do stink.

"My dad," Kurt suddenly began, "likes the doughnuts here. You can wait outside if you want."

"Sure. Whatever."

Kurt glanced at him but didn't give it a second thought. Instead he turned and entered the Shell service station. Blaine watched him go, lost interest, and swiveled on his heel. Around him, servicemen were filling empty gas tanks, washing car windows, and checking oil. A woman wearing a brown, polka-dotted dress was sitting in her car, adjusting her cat-eyed glasses. Her white driving gloves had a tiny stain on one of the fingers and she scowled at that. Blaine watched her until she finally looked up. He winked at her and she knowingly smiled.

Of course, Blaine wasn't attracted to her. He just liked doing that. And it was good for business. You just never know who may be a client someday.

A minute later, Kurt emerged with a bundle in his hand. He walked over to Blaine and handed him everything. The good-looking punk was not happy. He was confused.

"Goshdarnit, Kurt! I TOLD you not to buy me Lucky Strikes!"

"Well, too bad. Now, let's go."

But Blaine opened the package and confusedly asked, "Uh, Kurt? I thought your dad liked doughnuts."

"He does, stupid! That's why I got him one."

Blaine shifted his feet. "Uh, no. You didn't."

Kurt looked at him and then down in Blaine's hands. Blaine realized Kurt couldn't exactly see what was being extended towards him and took a step closer to him. Kurt quickly took it from Blaine's hand and turned towards the shop's entrance.

"The guy…" Kurt stammered. "The guy in front of me was buying this hot water bottle. I must've picked it up by mistake."

Blaine looked at him and softly asked, "Want me to come in with you?"

"No." Kurt quickly replied. "I can do it myself, thank you very much."

And with that, Kurt disappeared leaving Blaine speechless. And exactly thirty seconds later, Kurt reemerged with a glazed doughnut in his hands.

"Here," he said, handing the wax papered package to Blaine. "Take it. Let's go."

Blaine let the mistake go and whined, "NOW where?"

"Oh, shut up. We need to go to the grocery store." Kurt began walking back towards home.

"The grocery store?! Awwww, you can't need groceries that bad!" He ran up to Kurt and walked beside him. "I mean, you have enough to live through a nuclear winter and we can't have to go too many places! I mean, don't you have enough food? Golly! My family doesn't eat that much yet you Hummels…"

There was one thing that Kurt remembered during Blaine's tirade. Well, actually two. An Anderson boy could be a big whiner. And two, it was kind of fun to have a big whiner around. From time to time.

.

FoodLiner was Lima's biggest grocery store in 1954. It was your typical grocery store before places like Wal-Mart, Meijer, and the Piggly Wiggly changed things. Montgomery Ward was nearby and even Kresge's had some groceries. But nothing, like their slogan used to say, 'could be finer than to be at Foodliner!'. At least, that's what was promised. So, Kurt and Blaine approached the store. Kurt admonished Blaine for smoking again and Blaine whined. It was a pattern that seemed to repeat throughout the day. And of course that didn't stop Kurt from ordering him around. There's something dark and funny about a relationship like that.

"Get that shopping cart." Kurt ordered.

Blaine waved his hands in the air and dropped his Lucky Strikes on the ground. When he bent over to pick them up, Kurt's eyes went wider than usual and he almost ran into the store.

"Hold up, Speedy Gonzalez!" Blaine said, pushing the cart around. But when he got through the door, he almost ran Kurt down. He was confused until he saw what Kurt was staring at.

About four or five greasers were leaning along the wall of the store. They were up to no good and Kurt knew that. But the way he responded sent alarm bells in their heads.

"You know them?" Blaine asked Kurt, indicating the guys.

"No. I don't. Wait outside. I'll come get you if I need you."

Before Kurt could reply, he took off. Blaine watched him go, keeping a sideways eye on the greasers. And just as he turned to go out the door, he saw two of them walk away.

And towards Kurt.

Blaine completely changed his mind and ran after the nearly blind kid. It was easy to catch up to Kurt. He was perusing some bananas and arrived in record time. The two greasers looked at them funny before mouthing the word 'queers!'.

"Kurt," Blaine began, eyes on the troublemakers, "let me do the shopping. I can do it much faster than you. What do you want?"

"Blaine, just leave me-"

"NO!"

Kurt was appalled and stared at him. Blaine lowered his voice and leaned in closer to him.

"I've seen those guys around." Blaine whispered. "They're bad dudes. Just…just go outside or something. What do you want?"

Kurt glanced at the greasers and then back at him. "Know them, do you?"

Blaine looked a little offended. "No, I don't! It's just… I know OF them. And they're up to no good. Just…" he sighed and scratched his lacquered hair, "let me do the shop-"

"Alright, alright. Get some bananas, white bread, green olives, arugula, thyme, Ivory soap, and… uhhh…. Ummmm…."

"Tampons." This voice came from somewhere else.

The boys looked up and could see a smiling greaser. He glanced at them but winked at Kurt. He pretended to push glasses up his nose and whispered, 'four eyes!'. And then, he just walked away, laughing the entire time.

Kurt sighed. "Alright. Just get some bananas and white bread."

"Fine, daddy-o!"

Kurt laughed a little and noticed he felt better. And at this close proximity to this thief, he wondered just what ELSE Blaine would take out of the store.

"And don't steal!" Kurt loudly whispered.

"Heavens no!" Blaine joyously replied. "Heavens no! Not me! I would never do such a thing. These five fingers on one hand and the five on the other would never tarnish the reputation of the FoodLiner! Why, the nerve of such an accusation! If I could ever-!"

"Shut up and do the shopping!" Kurt said with a laugh. And then, he smiled even wider when he yelled, "Go, boy!"

They separated like giggling fourth graders. Blaine said something to the effect that he would be a fast shopper and Kurt hoped that didn't mean thievery. But in the end, Kurt headed out to the warm sunshine of the now-afternoon sky. And true to his word, Blaine was a quick shopper. After only a few minutes, Blaine was carrying two paper bags of groceries and who knew what else he had in his pockets.

"Robo boy! Robo boy! Robo boy!"

Blaine's head flipped to the right and was greeted with a terrible sight. The greasers had Kurt on the ground and they had him surrounded! Kurt guarded his body as best he could, but his glasses kept falling down his nose. The greasers encircled Kurt and no one was helping him at all!

"HEY!" Blaine roared. He dropped the bags and ran towards them. But the greasers all took off, laughing and clapping shoulders along the way. And when Blaine arrived, he looked down at him. Kurt's jeans were stained from the dirt and perspiration dotted his face. Blaine checked for any injuries and was silently relieved there were none. Meanwhile, Kurt helped himself to his feet and didn't like what just happened. But Blaine would be more surprised than Kurt.

"You dropped the grocery bags!" Kurt exclaimed.

Blaine's jaw dropped. "Kurt! Are you alrigh-?"

"Go get the groceries, stupid! Hurry up! You're as slow as molasses!"

Blaine couldn't understand the Hummel stubbornness and put his hands up in meek surrender. He retrieved the bags, only to discover that Kurt had already begun walking back home. THIS time, Blaine had to run to catch up to him. The greasers vanished, nobody seemed to notice them, and they were just two boys walking back home where at least someone was there that cared.

"Some day, huh?" Blaine asked.

"Yeah…" Kurt responded, brushing more dirt off his pants.

"Some day."

.

"What in the hell?! Kurt, what happened?! Why are you all dirty? Are you ok? What the hell did you do to my boy!" Burt got up from his recliner in the living room to inspect his son, who looked as though he had been wresting with pigs in the mud.

He was covered in mud and Blaine Anderson looked extremely guilty. Burt assumed and he put two and two together. He already made up his mind. Blaine Anderson was no good. NO good indeed. He knew he couldn't trust him.

"Dad! Calm down." Kurt stood in front of Blaine to protect him and Blaine noticed but didn't say a word. He just looked on in silence.

Burt stood there quiet for a moment until he spoke.

"Well, speak up, boy! What happened?" The boys jumped at the sound of his booming voice. Kurt became nervous but spoke anyway.

"I fell, sir." Kurt's hands couldn't stop shaking. He NEVER lied to his dad before and he didn't know why he protected those greasers but anything was better than seeing his dad mad so he lied.

"You fell?" Burt eyed both boys and all Blaine could do was gulp in fear. Burt was an intimidating man when he needed to be. He could make a bear pee on itself with that stare alone.

Kurt on the other hand didn't really seemed fazed at all to Blaine.

"Yes, sir. Blaine didn't do anything. In fact he helped me when I needed it most." Kurt smiled warmly at the young greaser and Blaine smiled back. But something passed between them. Like a secret that no one else knew. And they just couldn't stop smiling. And this was the first time ANYONE especially Kurt that has EVER spoken nicely of Blaine. He didn't know what to feel at this moment.

Kurt paid attention to his dad, taking his gaze off of Blaine. Blaine was sad for a moment but quickly checked back into reality.

"Uh... Huh... Ok, then. Go wash up for dinner. Blaine you could sit here while dinner is cooking." Burt said as he sat down picking up his newspaper to read it.

The boys just stood there frozen and Burt looked annoyed.

"Do you boys have molasses in your ears or somethin'? Git!" Burt demanded and all seemed to be OK. They both couldn't believe he ACTUALLY bought it.

What's even more shocking is that Blaine was invited to dinner. He couldn't believe it.

Both boys didn't need to be told twice as Kurt limped up the stairs in a flash and Blaine sat on the other side of the living room, looking down and twiddling his thumbs.

Burt looked closely at Blaine and smiled.

.

AN: Thank you all for reading! :)

I'm trying REALLY hard this year to update. I'm not promising anything. But I'll try to update more often.

Anyways, if you have questions let me know. Until then... Peace out!-ILOVESMESOMEGLEEX3