“Can’t he find another way of dumping that crap? He keeps disturbing the signal.”

Kurt’s eyes followed the brunette, the arms flexing as they turned the steering wheel, his tight orange shirt (ugh, that should really not work) accentuating his muscles and highlighting his tan.

“He can disturb whatever he wants.”

Rachel’s ears perked up and she dropped the box of chips she was holding and ran over to the window.

“Who? Let me see! Is it the cute one again?”

“No, Rachel, I’ve got an ugly guy kink now. The greasy one with the ponytail, he’s my new favourite. Of course the cute one!”

Rachel ignored his tone, knowing what this weather did to him, and stoop on tip-toe to see out over the shelves.

“Why don’t they have any women working for them? It’s discrimination. It’s sexist.”

“Santana; there are a thousand girls coming in here in short skirts every day. Can’t you let us have this?”

“But the girls aren’t in uniform… Well, I can’t be as frustrated as you’re gonna be. He’s definitely straight.”

“He better be,” Rachel sighed hopefully, “that hard hat’s kind of…”

“Ohh, safety is so sexy! I can’t believe you’re not checking out his ass. It’s just bouncing away right in front of you-”

“Santana!” Kurt bumped his hip into hers and laughed. “You’re the worst lesbian ever.”

“I’m just saying; he almost had my eye out with that thing. Jesus.”

“Anyway, you don’t know he’s straight. Just because he’s a builder-”

Santana cackled.

“Don’t get all ‘can’t judge a book by its cover’ with me. If you think a gay builder is just going to stroll in here and bone you against the freezer, you’ve been watching too much porn. You can keep dreaming all you want, but Captain Tush over there is straight.”

“Care to make it interesting?”

“I was already entertained, but sure. Ten bucks.”

They shook hands and Rachel squealed excitedly both at the bet and the possibility that he was straight, taking one last look before getting back to work. Kurt sighed as the forklift turned and rumbled back to the construction zone.

“Twenty dollars on five, please.”

Santana gave Kurt a sharp nudge in the ribs and he shook his head to try to concentrate.

“What?”

“Pump five. Gas. I’d like to… you know… buy some?”

The woman on the other side of the counter had one eyebrow raised at him as his gaze kept wandering outside while he picked up something from her basket, his hand holding it in mid-air absent-mindedly. He could see dozens of people outside, the sunroofs down on their cars, windows open, shades and windswept hair, and he wished he could be in real summer clothes like them and not his unflattering work uniform. Black trousers and a green polo that was far looser than he would normally wear, with the white ‘EZFuel’ logo hovering above his nametag. Apart from his boss, he was the only male member of staff, and he hated how the girls looked unfairly good in it compared to him. He felt like a shapeless lump, even more so as the heat continued to melt him. It wasn’t even hot inside, the air-con took care of that, but he could feel the sunlight on his shoulder and every person that came in was buying either ice cream or cold beer or barbecue food or gas so they could drive to the middle of nowhere just because the sun was shining, and it went to his head. He felt the discomfort of being too hot without getting to enjoy it.

A boy in shades stood outside, unable to wait until he got home to eat his popsicle, and started licking hungrily as the juice rolled onto the tip of his finger. Another, a blonde, squeezed firmly on the gas pump, the nozzle buried deep as it filled the-

“Kurt!”

“Not now!” he snapped before remembering where he was: not in the sun with some tanned lover, but at work, serving people who reminded him time after time just how lovely it was outside. He swallowed as Santana and the woman he was serving looked at him in confusion and shock. Her little girl pulled on her shorts, nagging her for candy.

“Sorry?”

“No, not you- I mean, uh, sorry. I’m really sorry, madam, um, number five, right. How much did you want?”

“Twenty… please,” she mumbled, fearing another outburst.

“Yes, okay. Let me get these,” he said, trying to act as sanely as possible as he started scanning and packing her groceries.

Normally he would be able to remain professional. He would concentrate on his job, menial as it was, and do it in a polite, professional manner. It was a nice place to work: he was always busy, he got to talk to people all day, and he adored his colleagues in a stupid kind of way.

The girls were brilliant, constantly making lewd comments about customers’ butts and flirting shamelessly with everyone they saw and bitching about the creepy old men that came in. They were completely aware of the double standard - that apparently it was fine for them to ogle everything they saw but be offended by the attention of someone unattractive, but they were working at minimum wage while everyone else was outside. They didn’t particularly care about political correctness.

Jenny, the boss’ wife and mother hen, doted on Kurt and the girls as if they were the children she’d never had (she did have her own kids, but they were brats), and every time they talked about nights out and drinking and boys, or in Santana’s case, girls, she would join in the gossiping but also show concern for their safety. They giggled helplessly when she asked them if they wouldn’t rather have a relationship and a real date and a quiet dinner some place nice. They were eighteen and earning enough to money to have some fun before they left for college. They weren’t going to start anything that would tie them to Lima.

“Gorgeous day today, isn’t it?”

Kurt smiled and nodded, calmly packing the items in front of him as the woman he was serving tried to keep her child quiet. He paused before putting the bag of m&ms in.

“Are these for after lunch, or should I give them to her now?”

She sighed gratefully.

“Well, sweetie, why don’t you ask the man nicely for your candy?”

Kurt dangled the packet from his side of the counter, mesmerising the little girl. Almost in a trance, she reached out for them, but he held them back.

“What do you say?”

“Please can I have them?”

If there hadn’t been a queue building, he would have kept going until he got a ‘may I’, but that would have to do. He smiled at her and passed her the candy. She didn’t open them, but held the packet in her sticky hands, transfixed by the boy she didn’t even know who was setting boundaries for her. Kurt felt smug as he packed the rest of the groceries. All the children got like this in the summer vacation. Their parents were stressed and tired of dealing with them all day and their powers of persuasion were usually wearing thin, and a different voice telling them to behave was usually just what they needed.

“Resorting to bribery on day three; can’t be a good sign.”

“It’s that time of day, isn’t it?” A response Kurt found effective 24/7. “The sun makes them all a little crazy.”

She nodded eagerly, so grateful that someone was telling her it was alright to feel frazzled. Kurt had figured out, after three years of working with the public, how to tell them exactly what they wanted to hear, and he liked cheering them up. Something as simple as a smile at six in the morning could make someone’s day that little bit better, and even though working in a gas-station-slash-grocery-store wasn’t the high-powered career he envisioned for himself later on, he still took pride in it for now.

“And what do you say to the nice man?”

“Thank you,” she mumbled, almost zombie-like, gazing up at Kurt’s smile as if he knew some answer and she didn’t even know the question yet.

He grinned at her and tapped deftly at the screen.

“Okay, girls, that’ll be thirty-five ninety, please.”

The woman almost giggled at being called a girl instead of ‘ma’am’, and handed over her card. He felt better after working semi-normally. He even managed not to let his mind wander when he swiped the card through the slot.

As soon as the flustered woman had left, Santana confronted him as they both carried on working.

“What’s gotten into you today? Did she piss you off? Does she owe you money?”

“Hot.”

She frowned.

“I didn’t think she was your type.”

“It’s too hot. There are boys everywhere and they’re not wearing much and I-”

Santana burst out laughing.

“That’s it? You’re horny and you’re taking it out on innocent customers?”

He blushed.

“I was nice to her for most of it.”

“Are you kidding me? You made a good recovery, sure, but I could swear you were going hit her when she dragged your attention away from the Buttmobile over there. Kurt ‘please-let-me-carry-your-bags-to-your-car’ Hummel, maybe by anyone else’s standards that may have been nice, but it’s hardly employee of the month material.”

“We don’t have an employee of the month-”

“Well if we start, it definitely won’t be you.”

He took a deep breath. Even when he wanted to be unreasonable and moody like a proper teenager, just for once, she was taking it away from him. It was rude.

“You know it will. Jenny loves me. And it’s not just the heat. I could get through it if it weren’t for the noise,” he nodded towards the construction outside. The shop was being extended, which was good for business and eye candy but terrible for noise pollution, and worse for Kurt’s mood. “I’ve got a headache.”

Santana put a hand on her hip.

“Well, you’re standing in front of a wall of pharmaceuticals. Take your pick and stop whining. Stare at Freddie Forklift again; it might cheer you up.”

He snorted and took a packet of aspirin from the shelf, popping two out and knocking them back with his warm glass of water. He gave Santana a look that said ‘satisfied?’ and she smiled sweetly to show that she was.

“Great. I’m taking my break. Try not to eat any customers while I’m gone.”

“Only the delicious ones, I promise.”

A woman laughed as Kurt handed over her change and told her to have a nice day. She walked away, revealing the man who had been waiting patiently behind her, listening to Kurt and Santana’s entire exchange. He grinned smoothly at Kurt.

“I’d better be careful, then.”

Kurt had every intention of saying something devastatingly witty. He was just unprepared. His mind screamed ‘WHEN DID YOU GET IN HERE HOW MUCH HAVE YOU HEARD WHY DIDN’T I SEE YOU CLIMB OFF THE FORKLIFT BECAUSE THAT MUST HAVE LOOKED NICE AND YOUR HAIR IS CURLY AND OH A DROP OF SWEAT ON YOUR EARLOBE WOULD YOU LIKE ME TO LICK IT OFF AND OH GOD PLEASE BE GAY,’ and his mouth mumbled something about a missing Indian.

“I think you’re supposed to say Native American.”

Oh. His voice was really nice.

“Ha, right, I just, you know, with the hard hat, construction workers, Village People. You don’t have an Indian. You must get that all the time.”

“Again; Native American.” He grinned. “And actually, I think Steve’s part Cherokee. He’s just not allowed to wear the headdress. Health and safety.”

He extended his arm (mmm arm nice arm lovely arm), handing Kurt a bottle of water. Kurt stood still for a second, forgetting what he was supposed to do. Rachel walked behind the man to get to the shelf on the other side of him. She stopped in her tracks, her fingers turning white as she gripped onto the box in her arms excitedly. Now Kurt had to deal with her mouthing ‘it’s him!’ and pointing, as if he wasn’t confused enough already.

“Hi.”

He expected the frown of someone who’s just met a psychopath. He received a mischievous smirk.

“Okay, so this is when you take the bottle and wave it in front of that thing there. Some numbers should come up on the screen.”

“Why, thank you sir. Maybe later I could show you how to handle your tools properly.”

That was the response he thought of later and kicked himself.

In the moment, of course, he had nothing.

“Right. Yep.”

He took the bottle, surprised by how cold it was, and scanned it. As predicted, a price appeared on the screen. He had no idea how many times he’d read out prices with no problems whatsoever, but now all he saw was a couple of odd shapes that he had no idea how to pronounce. He felt it taking too long and he felt the man, boy, disgustingly attractive thing staring at him, trying not to laugh and he felt Rachel trying to catch his attention as he glared at the screen in frustration.

“So, what do I owe you? The suspense is killing me.”

“One nineteen,” he finally said, fighting an urge to slam his head into the cash register, “please.”

“Cool;” he fished around in his pocket for the money, coming up with two dollar bills, “put the change in there, babe.” He nodded towards the charity pot and winked. Winked. He was so cocky. Kurt hated people giving him nicknames; even ‘dude’ was irritating, but other people didn’t smile like that when they said it. It was a good thing he didn’t want the change, because Kurt’s hands had stopped functioning.

“Thanks, Captain Tush,” he sighed dreamily before clapping his hand over his mouth. The man turned back to face him eyebrows raised.

“Sorry?”

“No! Oh, no, God no, my friend was just calling you, uh, she’s on her break. She’s gay.”

Kurt winced. This guy didn’t know Santana, much less care about her sexual orientation.

“Oh. She’s not very good at it.”

“I am.”

What. Kurt would judge this guy if he didn’t run away screaming. He simply raised an amused eyebrow while his lips quirked to the right.

“I bet you are. I’ll bear it in mind.”

He grinned again and leaned forward to read his badge. Kurt sucked in a breath, excited and terrified, but the excruciating closeness was gone again in a second. He started to miss it.

“Thanks for the drink, Kurt.” He pressed it against his forehead, leaning his head back and letting the condensation cool his skin. His neck was completely exposed, all muscle and vein and Adam’s apple bobbing when he swallowed. “I’m sure I’ll see a lot more of you before we finish out there. And although I am more than fine with Captain Tush, you could try calling me Blaine. If you want. Catch you later.”

He grinned again before sauntering back outside, popping the cap off the bottle and taking a long, drawn-out gulp. Kurt could have sworn he was swaying his hips like that on purpose.

“Holy crap,” Rachel interrupted Kurt’s daze as he watched Blaine walk away, “You should really use protection next time you do that.”

Kurt blinked quickly, trying to regain consciousness, and saw a queue of people in front of him. Not a single one looked annoyed by the delay. They just seemed incredibly jealous. Kurt smirked to himself. He was pretty sure he’d just made ten dollars.