A/N: Still slow paced. And posting will still be slow. I know that's frustrating for some people, but as we say in my rpg community, real life comes first. Or at least, it's supposed to. I appreciate your patience and will not abandon this story (I already know how it ends - it's just that there's all this middle part to get through first!). So here is the next (all-Klaine) installment. I hope you enjoy, and please review ~

Sweat beaded on Blaine's brow as he tightened the bolt, just as Burt had told him to. Blaine could not have put his finger on what it was about Burt Hummel that seemed to just put him at ease. He looked just like an other average middle-aged guy, but there was something genuine about him. In his eyes, maybe. Blaine made a conscious effort not to stare. Burt straightened up and Blaine followed suit, wiping the sweat from his brow with the back of his hand. He left a streak of gray on his forehead. He really really needed a haircut.

Burt spoke, apparently to someone else, and Blaine turned to see who he'd been greeting. There, to his great surprise, was the skinny kid from study hall. Blaine watched him approach. He'd never really paid attention to him except to exchange a few brief words on Thursday. Burt beamed. "Blaine, this is my son, Kurt," Burt told him proudly. He'd mentioned having a son, and feeling sorry that Kurt was feeling under the weather. Blaine had told him he didn't think he'd met Kurt – but that was because he hadn't actually remembered study-hall-kid's name.

"Kurt, this is Blaine Anderson, Hiram and LeRoy Berry's boy." Kurt's eyes flashed wide with surprise.

"We – uh – we met actually. Sort of," Blaine interjected cautiously. "We have the same Study Hall." Blaine continued watching Kurt's reaction. But Kurt seemed to have been on another wavelength entirely.

He looked from Blaine to his father and back again. "So he's – you're – what, Rachel's brother?" He was practically gaping. "How did she not tell me this?" Kurt threw up one of his hands and let it drop at his side, his expression completely incredulous. "And since when did you hire Rachel Berry's brother and not inform me of this?" Burt, who was much more interested in the Tupperware than Kurt's dramatics, reached for the container of cookies and slid them out of Kurt's hand.

"I didn't hire him. He's just here helping out. Which is what you were going to do," Burt responded as he popped the top off the Tupperware and slid it beneath the bowl like a tray. He offered the bowl to Blaine. "Cookie?"

"Uh, sure – lemme just – go wash my hands," Blaine said, holding his greasy mits up.

He turned away, but not before he heard Burt telling Kurt, who stood there with his hands on his slim hips. "And anyway, since when do I have to run my hiring decisions by you?"

Blaine couldn't help but smirk at their exchange. He made his way to the sink where he unzipped the top of his coveralls and slipped his arms out of the sleeves. He then soaped up his hands and scrubbed the grease off his skin. As he rinsed his hands he looked up at the dull, smoky mirror and noted a grease smudge on his forehead. He rubbed at it, but dropped his hand and turned when he caught some movement at his side. He straightened; Kurt was there, his Tupperware in one hand, and a roll of paper towels in the other.

"Here," said Kurt. He offered Blaine the roll first.

"Thanks," he responded and took the roll in his wet hands. He did his best to remove a few squares without letting the roll soak all the way through, and resumed rubbing at his forehead, then dried his hands when he was satisfied.

"Now, have a cookie. In fact, have three. They're heart healthy, but I swear, Dad would eat two dozen in a single go if I let him, and that would kind of defeat the purpose of baking them healthy in the first place." He smirked, "Go on – they taste good, I swear."

Blaine let out quick, light laugh despite himself, but he went ahead and did as he was told. Kurt didn't seem to plan on going anywhere, so after only a slight hesitation, he took a bite. They were sweet, but not too sweet, and were chewy but had a little bit of crunch. He tasted macadamia nuts and something tarty popped on his tongue as he chewed. He hummed his approval and nodded. "You're right – these are really good," he said and took a second bite.

Kurt's smile spread and he offered the Tupperware again. "Here, take more. I'm going to go offer them to the rest of the crew. I'll be right back." Blaine did, and as the other teen walked away, Blaine, without thinking, turned and watched.

Kurt carried the cookies to the break table in the back of the garage. He'd barely set them down when all his dad's greasy employees descended like vultures on roadkill. Kurt yelped and ducked out of the way in the nick of time. He let out a sigh of relief and dusted off his clothes then headed back to where Burt was talking to Blaine. Kurt's dad raised his head and smiled at Kurt. "Hey, buddy. I was just telling Blaine here I think we've got everything under control for now. Why don't you boys go take a break – grab a coffee or something. What's that place you kids like to go to, again?"

"The Lima Bean," Kurt supplied.

"Right – the Lima Bean."

Kurt hesitated. He looked at Blaine, who seemed so very straight, and so very unlikely to want to hang out with the token gay kid – but then, who could really tell anymore? And Kurt felt like a stone was sinking in his stomach as the memory of the previous afternoon came back to him. He blanched a little, but swallowed back the memory. Blaine gave him a funny look. What had they been talking about? "Sorry, what was the question?"

"Kurt, are you feeling ok?" Burt studied him, concerned.

Kurt nodded quickly and forced a smile, "Yeah, of course."

Blaine responded a little cautiously, "I guess I'll go get changed."

And Burt gripped Kurt by the arm. "Kurt, what's going on with you? You feeling feverish or something?" Burt raised a hand to his forehead, but Kurt guided it away. He widened his smile.

"No. Dad, I'm ok. I just – zoned out there for a minute." Burt looked unconvinced but he didn't argue.

"Well, like I was saying, I think you and Blaine have a lot more in common than you'd think. So – you know, go easy on him, ok, Kiddo?"

The last part of that was whispered, clearly meant for his ears only. Kurt had no idea what to think. What on earth did he mean by that?

But Burt didn't explain. He nodded once at him, then straightened up and smiled as Blaine, now dressed in fresh clothes, and hair slightly damp from an attempt to tame them with water. "Ready? Oh, and before I forget…" Burt reached into his back pocket and pulled out his wallet. He counted out four bills and held them out to Blaine. "There you go."

Blaine looked at him with surprise in his eyes, but didn't move to take the money.

Burt gestured with the bills. "Go on, take them. I know you're grounded and all, but this is between us, all right." Slowly, Blaine reached up and accepted the money. "And there's a little extra in there – so you can buy this one his super-frappa-latte or whatever the heck it is."

Kurt couldn't help himself. He rolled his eyes and smirked. "Grande non-fat mocha," he said with mild exasperation, then shot a glance at Blaine and shook his head, as if to say, "Parents."

Blaine rewarded him with a slight twitch of his lip. Burt just rolled his own eyes. "Whatever it is, all I know is it ain't coffee. Now go – get out of here." He jabbed his thumb over his shoulder.

Whatever his father's motives (or his opinions on the subject), Kurt was not about to turn down a free mocha. "Bye, Dad," he said as he moved past the man and led the way to his car.

"Later, Burt," he heard Blaine say. And then he remembered again – remembered his hesitation. He climbed into his truck no longer smiling, and he waited for Blaine to get his seatbelt on before checking his mirror and backing out of the drive. They drove in silence for a minute. He thought he felt Blaine casting glances his way.

This was awkward. Like driving with a giant pink elephant sitting on his lap. Finally, he just blurted it out. "I'm gay, you know. Did he tell you that?"

Kurt glanced quickly to see Blaine looking at him. "Uh, n-no. He didn't," Blaine sputtered. "I – uh – why?"

Kurt sighed, and stared resolutely out of the front window. "I get it, ok? It's high school. And high school really, really sucks. And people suck. And it sucks worse for kids like me and anyone people think is like me and nobody wants that label on them, ok? I get it." He realized was driving faster, almost as if he was trying to catch up to his heartbeat, and lifted his foot off the gas. The car slowed. "All I mean is, if you don't want to be seen with me because I'm gay, that's fine – we can tell my dad we hung out and whatever and go our separate ways. I won't tell anyone we met and it's like none of this ever happened." Kurt felt his face flushing.

The light ahead turned red and Kurt put on the brakes. He glanced over at Blaine. The other boy was licking his lip as if he was thinking. Finally, after a long moment, Blaine looked at him and away again. "I don't care that you're gay," he said quietly. But something seemed to be bothering him, like there was something else that Blaine wanted to say. He readjusted his foot, then added, "I'm not an asshole."

Kurt bit his lip guiltily. The light turned green and he accelerated, gripping the steering wheel a bit too tightly. "I-I'm sure you're not. I didn't mean…,"

Blaine scoffed beside him. "Yeah, you did," he said resignedly. "But just forget it – I know what people are like. So – I get it."

Kurt tried to loosen his grip on the wheel. He let out a breath. He highly doubted that. "It's not far," he said, dropping the subject. The song on the radio ended and Katy Perry came on. It wasn't loud, but Kurt groaned. They slowed to a stop at a light and he moved to change the station.

"No, wait, put it back. I like that song," Blaine blurted out. He reached for Kurt's hand. Kurt didn't even have time to flinch before Blaine's hand had covered his, pulled it away from the radio, and pinned it on the armrest between their seats. The curly-haired boy fiddled with the stations with his free hand until Katy came back on. And meanwhile Kurt sat, feeling shell-shocked by the fact that another teenaged boy had touched his hand, and more, was practically holding it. Kurt stared at their hands and fought the urge to let his fingers curve around the other boy's.

And then Blaine turned up the volume, gave Kurt's hand a slight, almost imperceptible squeeze, and pulled away. Kurt started driving again, but next to him, Blaine sat, bobbing his head up and down, his fingers tapping on the armrest on his door, and his other hand – the hand that had just held Kurt's a moment ago – was tucked under Blaine's thigh.

He glanced at Blaine's face. And to Kurt's surprise, the boy was actually lip-syncing!

Kurt's lips spread into a grin despite himself. "How can you like this song?" he asked, a little loudly so he could be heard over Katy Perry.

Blaine looked at him, looking scandalized, "How can you not?" Just then the chorus started and to Kurt's horror or amusement – he actually wasn't completely sure which – Blaine actually started to sing. He pointed first at Kurt and then jabbed his thumb at himself for emphasis as he harmonized with the first line…

You make me
Feel like I'm living a
Teenage Dream
The way you turn me on.

I can't sleep
Let's run away
And don't ever look back
Don't ever look back!

Kurt couldn't help it. He laughed. He glanced over at Blaine just in time to see him patting his chest with his palm and singing directly to him. And Kurt lost his breath. He swore in that moment his own heart skipped a beat.

My heart stops
When you look at me.
Just one touch -
Now baby I believe.

This is real
So take a chance
And don't ever look back,
Don't ever look back.

I might get your heart racing
In my skin-tight jeans;
Be your teenage dream tonight.

Let you put your hands on me
In my skin-tight jeans
Be your teenage dream tonight.

The song faded and a grinning Blaine shook his head and turned it to look out his window.

Kurt laughed again. "Wow, Blaine. That was…"

Blaine sniffed a laugh. "What – interesting? Unique?" He said the word like it was a snide insult.

But Kurt had barely heard him. "Good," he breathed, feeling otherwise breathless. "Really, really good." He turned on his left blinker and pulled up behind the two other cars making left-hand turns off the main road. He glanced to see Blaine study him skeptically.

"Seriously, Blaine. I know good. And you're amazing. I'd applaud you if I didn't have to take my hands off the wheel to do it." He shot the other boy a smile to let him know he was being serious.

Blaine stared straight ahead now. He shook his head and shrugged. "Singing is Rachel's thing," he said as if that settled the matter. As if having the same talent as his sister was out of the question. And Kurt thought about Rachel, thought about what he knew of his sort-of friend, and he realized, quite to his own displeasure, that Blaine was probably right. Rachel was insanely competitive, with emphasis on the "insane."