Chapter 17

"Why do we have to go to you dad's shop?" Trip lifted a Buddha statue off of Kurt's shelf, "And I thought you were an atheist."

"For the millionth time: do. Not. Touch," Kurt snatched the figurine from his hands and replaced it on the shelf, "My car's there and my dad promised me his credit card weeks ago for a shopping trip. I'm not going to just let that offer slip through my fingers. Why does it matter if we go there or wait here?"

"I don't like parents," Trip shrugged.

"You don't even have to say anything to him," Kurt glanced over his shoulder at Trip as he made his way to his closet, "Actually, let me rephrase: please don't say anything to him."

"I thought your dad was the accepting parent or something," Trip lifted a picture of Kurt and Blaine from the nightstand and eyed it critically; he turned it for Kurt to see, "Prom King?"

"Queen," Kurt looked at him pointedly; daring him to make a joke.

Trip raised an eyebrow but offered no further comment on the matter.

"Give me two more minutes and we can go," Kurt picked through a hanger filled with scarves.

"Jesus Christ, Hummel, you've got a boyfriend who's ready to jump your bones at any given second, you don't need to primp anymore," Trip sat down on the edge of the bed and glared at the sun pouring in through the window, "And it's a thousand degrees out; you don't need a scarf."

"Pain is fashion," Kurt selected a canary yellow one from the tangle and wrapped it around his neck.

"No, pain is waiting for you to finish your five hour getting ready to go to the Lima mall routine," Trip huffed, "Please lets go."

Kurt turned to look at himself in profile in the mirror, "…fine."

"Praise Jesus," Trip threw his arms out and tipped his head up toward the ceiling.

Kurt ignored him and moved toward the door.

"I don't have to stay with you two while we're there, right?" Trip chased after him down the stairs.

"Of course you're staying with us; I'm going to fix your pathetic excuse for a wardrobe." Kurt eyed Trip's passenger seat warily before climbing in.

"Maybe you've caught Blaine's brain tumor and you've forgotten, but they wear uniforms at Dalton." Trip lurched the car into the street and ignored Kurt's death glare when his head hit the back of the seat.

"Weekends and nights out with friends require something with a lot less polyester blend," Kurt wrinkled his nose; the whole car smelled like cigarette smoke.

"What if I don't want to go out with them?" Trip retorted.

"The Dalton guys are nice, Trip," Kurt turned the volume down on the radio, "And everyone needs friends."

"I don't want any friends," Trip turned the volume back up.

Kurt opened his mouth to respond, but Trip's face was dark and he decided not to push his luck.

They pulled into an open parking space outside the shop and Kurt climbed out gratefully, "I feel like I just sat in an ash tray."

Trip followed him into the front of the shop; sniffing Kurt's shoulder, "You still smell like the inside of a department store and fruit loops."

Kurt glared at him indignantly, fully prepared to defend his cologne, but the sound of yelling from the garage distracted him.

Trip raised an eyebrow, "Is that your dad?"

Kurt ignored the question and breezed past the front desk to go into the garage.

"—I dunno what the hell kind of nerve you have coming in here; you graduated, so I'm guessing you know how to read enough to figure out the name on the front of this shop—"

Burt Hummel was shouting animatedly—his arms up; his face red. And in front of him one David Karofsky was staring at his shoes in misery.

"Dad!" Kurt cut him off; there was no way that the kind of fury his father was working himself into was good for his health. Kurt tried to project as much calm as he could and hoped it might wear off on his dad, "What's going on?"

Burt stopped shouting and turned to look at Kurt, but his face remained set in a furious scowl; he thrust a finger toward Karofsky, "This kid popped a tire and got it in his head that this was the place to come to have it looked at."

Kurt looked to David who stated back at him miserably. David who had been trying to be better; David who had left five crumpled dollar bills on the counter of a bakery for Kurt only a couple weeks earlier, "Well… this is an auto shop, right?"

"You cannot be serious, Kurt," Burt stared at Kurt in disbelief, "I know you're a nice kid, but this is ridiculous. This guy—"

"Made a lot of mistakes and has been trying to be a better person," Kurt cut in smoothly, but then added quietly, "…it's just a tire; it'll be a quick fix, and it could be dangerous if he tries to drive it somewhere else to get it dealt with."

"You are just like your mother sometimes, I swear..." Burt turned to glare at David again; a tense lull of silence loomed over them, "…Fine."

Karofsky looked up at him in surprise, but Burt was looking back at his son.

"If you're so set on us doing this, then you can be the one to fix it." Burt wiped his hands on a rag and moved toward the door leading back to the front of the shop.

"Dad," Kurt whined, "I just got dressed for the mall."

"Well then consider this your way to get two things you want," Burt called over his shoulder, "His tire fixed and my credit card in your pocket."

Kurt let out an indignant grunt before stalking over to Karofsky's truck. He folded his arm across his chest and glowered at the flat before turning his gaze back to Karofsky, "Do you know how to change a tire?"

"Um, yeah… I just didn't have a spare and—"

"You're going to change it; I'll supervise." Kurt kicked the tire gingerly with the toe of one shoe.

"I have to pay for service work that I'm doing for myself?" Karofsky looked at him distastefully.

"Would you rather I ask my dad to come back in here and change it?" Kurt rested a hand on his hip, "Or I could tell him you're giving me a hard time. Your pick."

David hurried to Kurt's side and set to work.

Kurt watched him silently as he worked until Trip sidled over to stand beside him.

"You're turning the wrench the wrong way," Trip smirked when David struggled with replacing one of the nuts on the new tire.

Karofsky's eyes flitted up from the tire and over to Trip, "Who are you?"

"Kurt's man on the side," Trip clapped Kurt on the ass with a wink.

Kurt jumped at the sudden contact and responded with a hard elbow in Trip's side, "He is not; he's Blaine pet. His name's Trip. Trip, this is Karofsky."

"David," Karofsky corrected. He didn't stand, but he offered a hand.

Trip studied it for a moment before shifting his gaze back to David's face, "Call me new aged, but since you're already on your knees, I'd rather skip the hand shaking and go straight for the blowjob."

Karofsky fell back against the car and then lurched awkwardly to his feet; his eyes wide.

Kurt groaned, "Oh my God, Trip, just go play with the brake belts or something until Blaine gets here."

"Why? I'm trying to make friends here, Kurt; you did say you thought I needed friends," That slow smile played out across Trip's mouth as he turned back toward Karofsky, "I can tell we're bonding, can't you, David?"

"I—I um…" Karofsky swallowed hard; his cheeks nearly as red as his old letterman jacket.

"What's the matter? Have I flustered you?" Trip raised an eyebrow innocently.

Suddenly, Karofsky seemed to find whatever fury he used as his base in high school because he straightened up and took a step in closer to Trip than was really necessary. He scowled down at him, "Watch your damn mouth."

"I'd rather watch yours." Trip's eyes flitted down to Karofsky's lips and then back to his eyes.

"Listen," Karofsky hissed, leaning in closer to Trip's face, "I don't need shit from some punk ass kid that just wandered in here from Fucksville, Nowhere—"

"—I'm from Maryland." Trip supplied.

"Wha—" Karofsky shook his head and tried to regain his hold on the conversation; he thrust a finger at Trip's chest, "I don't care where the hell you're from, just make sure to stay out of my w—"

Suddenly Trip stood on tiptoe, grabbed David by the face, and pressed a kiss to his mouth.

Kurt let out an initial yelp of surprise, but then he didn't know what was more shocking—Trip's brashness or the fact that Karofsky didn't pull away immediately.

The initial shock of the contact seemed to suddenly wear off and Karofsky shoved hard at Trip. Despite having been the one doing the pushing, it was David that stumbled back a few paces. He stared at Trip with wide eyes; a mixture of shock and fury battling for control of his face.

Trip, once again, closed the space between them with a few slow steps. He reached up casually and wiped a thumb over the corner of Karofsky's mouth, "You could use some practice, but you're not too shabby."

David slapped Trip's hand away and put nearly the entire length of the garage between them just as Blaine stepped through the door from the front lobby, "You stay the fuck away, do you hear me?"

He turned to storm out, but then jumped when he noted Blaine in the door looking between him and the others with confusion. Karofsky nodded awkwardly at him before ducking his head and brushing past Blaine and out of sight.

Blaine crossed the garage, glancing over his shoulder the whole way at the door David hadn't bothered to shut.

Trip leaned his back into the pickup truck behind him and smiled at Kurt, "Did you hear him say something a minute ago? My hearing's not always the best."

"What happened?" Blaine frowned at both of them as he sank down into the chair beside Kurt.

"He… he just kissed David Karofsky." Kurt blinked in amazement at Trip.

Blaine's eyes went wide and he gaped at Trip as though he couldn't quite process the news, "You just—I mean—how—why did you do that?"

"He's gay, isn't he?" Trip shrugged as though forcing himself on a complete stranger were the most natural thing in the world.

"He's still in the closet, Trip." Kurt looked toward the open door again.

"Well from what I've heard he's a fan of forcing kisses on the unwilling, so I thought he might enjoy trying it out in reverse."

Kurt snapped his head around to face Trip again, but Trip was busy eyeing David's flat tire. Blaine was looking up at him, but Kurt ignored his questioning gaze, "I, um, I forgot you knew about that."

"I know the whole autobiography of Kurt Hummel," Trip crouched down and lifted the wrench from where it lay abandoned.

Kurt, for once, didn't roll his eyes. He was too busy contemplating the kiss, "I never told yo his name, so how'd you know it was him?"

"For Christ's sake, Hummel, I didn't do that to give you some sort of fucking full circle moment," Trip worked at tightening one of the nuts; his movements quick and assured.

Kurt felt a light blush touch his cheeks, "So why'd you do it?"

"Why not?" Trip winked and bit his lip ring once; clicking it between his teeth in the way he knew made Kurt flinch. He set to work on lowering the jack, "Guy really can't kiss worth a damn though. You'd think a fucked up closet case like him that's running around forcing his tongue down the throats of other kids in locker rooms would be hitting up a few prostitutes from time to time to take the edge off."

"He didn't shove his tongue down my throat," Kurt snapped.

Trip straightened up from underneath the hood of the car, "Sorry, didn't realize you enjoyed kissing him."

"Not funny, Trip." Blaine snapped; a protective hand brushing over Kurt's

Trip looked at him in mild surprise. Blaine rarely did worse than gently scold him for his crudeness, but this time he was full on glowering. He rolled his eyes, "All right, fine; no need to get touchy, kids."

"Unbelievable," Kurt murmured under his breath. He watched Trip wipe his hands on an abandoned towel before turning his attention to Blaine, "You look miserable; I thought your mom was taking you to some sort of alternative therapy place."

Blaine grimaced, "She did, and would you like to guess what kind of alternative therapy they tried to do on me?"

Kurt shrugged, "Realigning your energies?"

"Acupuncture. My mother tried to send me to an acupuncturist."

"Oh God," Kurt tried to stifle a laugh, "How was it?"

Blaine gave him a baffled look, "You honestly think I would let them stick my body full of giant needles?"

"I've heard it's not painful or anyth—"

"GIANT needles, Kurt!" Blaine waved his hands in the air.

"Right, okay, I forgot who I was talking to," Kurt smiled apologetically, "So the trip was pointless?"

"All I got out of it was a tension headache and a lot of weirded out looks from the staff," Blaine shrugged.

Kurt touched a quick kiss to his cheek, "We'll engage in some retail therapy, and you'll feel much better."

"You two make me want to throw up," Trip threw the towel back down on a shelf, "Can we go and get this over with?"

"Why does he hang out with us if it's such a chore?" Kurt muttered as they followed Trip back toward the door.

"He likes to complain," Blaine smiled; shrugged.

Elizabeth was standing in the lobby talking to Burt, her arms folded tight across her chest.

"Tire's changed; he'll be in to pick it up, um… later." Kurt was careful not to meet Burt's eyes.

"He couldn't just take it with him? He paid already," Burt narrowed his eyes as he looked at Kurt, "How's he going to get home?"

"I guess he…walked?" Kurt decided it was time to change the subject before he wound up explaining Trip kissing David for the entire world to see, "Any chance I can get that credit card now?"

Burt looked at him begrudgingly before fishing his wallet out of his pocket, "You know the rules."

Kurt bobbed his head up and down quickly as he snatched the card from between his father's fingers.

Burt glanced at Trip doing his best to go unnoticed near the door, "Who's this?"

"This is Trip Morgan; he's starting at Dalton in the fall," Kurt tried to give Trip a look that said 'don't you fucking dare try to pull anything.'

Trip apparently got at least part of the message because he only nodded in greeting.

Elizabeth's attention was focused on Blaine, "Honey, are you sure you feel up to doing this right now? You looked positively ill in the car."

"I'm fine," Blaine insisted, "I was just a little traumatized."

Elizabeth turned to smile at Burt, "Does your son have the knack for drama that mine does?"

"Where do you think your kid got it?" Burt snorted.

"I'm standing right here," Kurt glared at his father.

"Can we please go now?" Blaine looked pleadingly at his mother.

Elizabeth sighed and stuck a hand in her purse before producing an orange, plastic bottle, "Remember to take it with—"

"Lots of water, I know," Blaine grumbled. He handed the bottle off to Kurt to drop in his messenger bag.

Elizabeth stuck her hand in her purse again, this time producing a neatly folded fifty-dollar bill, "Be good."

Blaine looked at her extended hand and then met her eyes, "You really don't have to—"

Elizabeth took his hand in hers and folded the money into it. She touched a kiss to his forehead, "Go have fun."

"Thanks, Mom," Blaine smiled, pecked her on the cheek, and turned toward the door.

Elizabeth stopped Kurt short as he followed after Blaine and Trip, "He forgets about the pill sometimes; he says he doesn't, but he does, could you—"

"Of course, Mrs. Anderson," Kurt patted his bag, "At two; I remember."

She smiled at him; squeezed his arm again, "Call me Elizabeth, Kurt."

"Elizabeth," He repeated; smiled.

When he made it outside, the boys were already in the car—Trip in the front seat and Blaine in the back.

"Dogs ride in the back; my boyfriend rides up front," Kurt turned the keys over in the ignition, but left the car in park as he fixed Trip with an icy look.

Trip grinned, "Whoever calls shotgun gets to ride up front."

"I lost the word," Blaine sighed dejectedly from behind them.

Kurt gaped at Trip, "You're honestly going to take—Oh my God, never mind."

Trip set to work flipping through Kurt's CDs as they pulled out onto the road. He pushed one into the player and turned up the volume.

Kurt looked at him in surprise, "Katy Perry?"

"Consider it my way of making it up to Blaine that he has to ride in the backseat." Trip kicked his feet up onto the dash.

"Feet down," Kurt snapped; waving an arm wildly at Trip's legs, "I just got the interior detailed."

"You and fucking cars," Trip shook his head, "You're a weird guy, Hummel."

"Excuse me, but I'm not the one that just forced himself on a random guy," Kurt replied pointedly.

"He's not the first, right Blaine?" Trip turned to wink at Blaine.

Kurt cranked his head around to stare at Blaine, "What?"

"Jesus, Hummel, watch the road!" Trip snapped.

Kurt turned to face forward again, but he glared at Blaine in the rearview mirror, "Explain. Now."

"He, um, he kissed me in front of my grandma a couple days before they went home," Blaine blushed, "I forgot."

"You—" Kurt shook his head, "Why am I not at all surprised?"

"Please don't be mad," Blaine met his gaze in the mirror.

Kurt let out a disgruntled sigh, "I'm not mad at you. Trip, on the other hand, is already walking a very thin line between my good and bad list."

"You don't want to be on the bad list," Blaine informed Trip quickly.

"It was nothing personal," Trip flipped through the track on the CD idly, "You can have a free one, too, if it makes you feel any better."

"No!" Kurt and Blaine spoke at the same time.

Trip laughed and sat back in his seat.

When they pulled into the parking lot, Kurt fixed Trip with a stern look, "Do not wander off. I have plans for you."

"Did you change your mind about—"

"Stop talking," Kurt twisted around to look at Blaine who had fallen quiet in the backseat, "Are you all right?"

"Yeah, fine," Blaine forced a smile, "Headache."

"Do you want to go home?" Kurt reached back to squeeze his knee.

"No, it's fine; it'll go away," Blaine climbed out of the car and pulled open Kurt's door for him. He grinned and offered a hand.

Kurt took it before hooking his hand under Blaine's elbow, "You'll tell me though if you don't feel well?"

"Of course," Blaine smiled around at the storefronts as they walked inside, "Almost feels like normal, huh?"

Kurt smiled, "Almost."

They wandered through stores and admired displays until Kurt decided it was time for them to get to work on shopping.

He stared at Trip with both hands on his hips and scanned him over carefully. Trip was a noticeable person despite his bland attire—the eyes; the hair color… what Kurt had somehow missed was Trip's height. He gaped at him openly, "You're the same size as Blaine."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Blaine turned to pout at him from where he was picking through a rack of t-shirts.

"I just… I thought you were taller," Kurt blinked at Trip curiously. He was good at details when it came to people. It unsettled him that he'd missed something so obvious.

Trip didn't seem bothered; he shrugged, "Are you done undressing me with your eyes yet, or what?"

"On the contrary, I'm trying to dress you," Kurt sniffed indignantly and made his way to a table filled with neatly folded t-shirts, "Purple would look good on you. It'll bring out your hair and your eyes…. Maybe a nice lavender…"

"I'm not wearing purple." Trip watched Kurt warily as he picked through the shirts.

"Why not?" Kurt unfolded a deep purple, low-necked t-shirt, "See? It's boring, but—"

"No," Trip took a step back, "No purple, pink, ruffles, bows, wide necks, or knee-length anything."

"You're absolutely no fun to take shopping," Kurt sighed and replaced the shirt. He set to work picking out things for himself and soon had his arms filled.

Blaine and Trip sat on the floor by the dressing rooms while Kurt modeled his selections for them.

When he came out in his fifth shirt and Blaine whistled, he made a face, "You have the same overly excited reaction to everything; how am I supposed to tell what you actually like?"

"I like all of them," Blaine shrugged.

"I like the length on that one," Trip offered.

Kurt eyed him suspiciously, but Trip showed no signs of teasing, "I thought you said you were against knee length anything."

"On me yes, not you," Trip was holding Kurt's scarf in his hands; smoothing the fabric over his fingers.

"Fine, I'll put it in the yes pile." Kurt returned to the dressing room to change into yet another shirt.

Blaine closed his eyes and tipped his head back against the wall.

Trip glanced down the row of dressing rooms toward Kurt's closed door before looking back at Blaine, "Any particular reason you're trying to make him think you feel fan-fucking-tastic today when you're actually ready to drop dead?"

"I'm not gonna drop dead," Blaine mumbled; he opened his eyes and scratched at a spot under his hat.

Trip snorted, "Bullshit; you practically collapsed the second we sat down back here."

"It's just a little headache," Blaine pulled his hand out from under his hat and checked his fingers apprehensively.

"Has your hair been falling out?" Trip asked quietly.

Blaine smiled grimly at him, "I think I liked you better when you were bedridden; you weren't nearly so…so…"

"Observant?" Trip wrapped Kurt's scarf into a loose knot around his wrist.

Blaine nodded. His eyes drifted down to Kurt's scarf, "He'll kill you if you wrinkle that."

"You're avoiding my question," Trip slid the fabric off his hand.

Blaine blinked at him, "Oh…right…could you repeat it?"

"Why are you faking happy for Kurt?"

"Oh, that," Blaine glanced toward Kurt's dressing room, "I'm... trying to make this okay for him; that he's staying here, I mean… I don't want him to be…to be burnt out before anyone even leaves."

Trip stared down at the floor and shook his head.

"What?"

"You two are just—" Trip shook his head again before looking back at Blaine, "I asked about your hair, too."

Almost unconsciously, Blaine pulled his hat down lower, "It's just one spot really that's gone."

"Can I see?" Trip twisted sideways to face Blaine.

Blaine glanced down the row of doors again before pulling his hat off.

Trip inspected the spot, "Turn your head."

Blaine did as he was told, "How's it look back there? I lost my hand mirror, so I can't ever see."

Trip sighed, "You want me to be honest?"

"If you can't be, I don't know who will," Blaine cringed, "Just tell me."

Trip was quiet for another second, "... Everything is accounted for."

"What?" Blaine touched a hand to the back of his head and made a face, "You asshole, you freaked me out on purpose."

Trip laughed just as Kurt came parading back out of the dressing room.

"Okay, I know you're going to like—" Kurt stopped short, his eyes flying straight to Blaine's head.

Blaine smiled weakly, "Does it look that bad?"

Kurt knelt down beside him and touched his fingers to the spot, "Of course it doesn't… but why didn't you tell me?"

Blaine shrugged, "Didn't seem important."

Kurt ran his hand gingerly over the rest of Blaine's head, "Do you think it's from the new treatment? Did they change the drug yet?"

"Dunno," Blaine shrank back against the wall when a saleswoman wandered into the dressing area with a customer.

"You don't know if you're losing hair from the treatment or you don't know if they changed it?"

"My hair fell out last week," Blaine amended, "I don't know about the treatment."

"Didn't they tell you at the doctor's appointment?"

Blaine glanced at Kurt almost guiltily, "I don't listen very well at appointments."

Kurt looked at him incredulously, "Blaine."

"I thought I'd be the guy that's like Google obsessed trying to learn stuff, or I'd go to appointments with lists of questions about things, but…" Blaine shook his head, "my head goes all fuzzy, and I just want to go home the whole time so bad that I feel like I can't even hear what they're telling me."

Trip and Kurt exchanged a look silently before Kurt reached out and squeezed Blaine's hand.

Blaine's eyes drifted over to Kurt's shirt, "…I really like that one."

"Blaine, do you want to talk about—"

"No," Blaine shook his head decisively, "I want to sit here and think about how I'm dating a guy who could make a burlap sack look good. Stand up so I can see."

Kurt hesitated for a second before straightening up; he twirled once and smiled, "On a scale of simply amazing to completely fabulous, where would you rank this?"

"I like it so much that I want to take it off you," Blaine proclaimed, his eyes roaming over the black fabric.

"I'd remind you to filter," Kurt turned to admire himself in the mirror, "But it's true; I look amazing. I'm buying it."

Trip catcalled after Kurt when he made his way back to the dressing room, but as soon as the door closed, he turned his gaze back to Blaine, "Is it true?"

"Is what true?" Blaine took the cue from Trip and lowered his voice.

"About the doctors appointments."

Blaine put his hat back on and stared at his knees, "Sort of."

Trip watched Blaine warily, "Why are you lying to him?"

"Why's it any of your business?" Blaine snapped; his voice louder.

Kurt peaked out of his room, "Everything okay?"

"Just peachy; get dressed so we can go," Trip waved him away.

Blaine stared sullenly at his shoes.

"…You're right; it's not my business what you decide to talk to him about." Trip straightened up and offered a hand to Blaine.

Blaine took it and allowed Trip to pull him to his feet, "Could you…just don't mention it to him."

"Sure," Trip shrugged, "Can I ask something else?"

"Would me saying no stop you?" Blaine leaned against the wall and rubbed his temples.

Trip didn't smile, "Are you getting good news or bad news?"

Blaine met his eyes, but then Kurt was pushing his way out of the dressing room, both arms overflowing with his soon-to-be purchases.

"All that?" Blaine smiled at the tangle of shirts, "Your dad's going to kill you."

"I'll buy half with my own card," Kurt looked down at his prizes, "…or maybe a third of it with my card… Did you find anything?"

"Nothing," Blaine held out his empty hands as proof.

"Do you want to keep shopping or do you need to rest?" Kurt moved toward the cashier, but kept his eyes on Blaine for a response.

"I feel great; you wanna go to J Crew?" Blaine smiled brightly.

"Yes!" Kurt walked backwards the rest of the way to the counter, "I saw a shirt in their catalogue last week that's going to look amazing on you, trust me."

Blaine splayed out his arms, "My body is your canvas, put me in whatever you want."

Kurt winked at him, "I knew I had a good reason for dating you."

When Kurt finally turned his attention to the cashier, Blaine kept smiling.

"Blaine," Trip spoke his name quietly.

Blaine's smile faltered, but then he was brushing past Trip and joining Kurt at the counter.

When the cashier turned away to pull out a bag, Blaine touched a quick kiss behind Kurt's ear before whispering, "Love you."

Kurt turned to give him a funny smile, "I don't know what I did to deserve that little display of affection, but thank you; I like hearing you say it."

Blaine took one of the bags from the counter and hooked it over his elbow before tangling his fingers between Kurt's, "I'll tell you everyday… I'll tell you forever."