Blaine called him once, but Kurt missed it. Finn and Puck were having an argument over who was better, Neil Diamond or Billy Joel. Just wanting them to shut up, he picked the latter, not caring who was actually better than who. Anyway, when he returned to his room, he saw he had one missed message. He meant to get back to him, but time got away and he never did.

Now here he was; sweaty and greasy, working for extra cash in his dad's auto garage, fixing up broken bumpers and doing oil changes. It was easy work and kept him busy. And busy was good for Kurt. He kept him from boredom and kept him from thinking. And thinking wasn't exactly the best idea nowadays.

"Kurt!" His father's words broke into his concentration, causing him to accidentally spray paint onto his overalls. He had been assigned to take over on painting over a new design since Dale, the lead painter of his dad's workers, called out on account of his wife having their second baby. Sighing, he looked up. "Mercedes called for you."

Kurt turned away, going back to work. This wasn't anything new. Mercedes, Tina, Brittany. Tons of people called for him. Sometimes he's called back and they'd make plans to go out, but he never did.

"I'll call her back later," Kurt said as he placed the clothes back over his face and began to re-spray the paint over the design stencil.

Burt would normally see this through; wanting his son to keep up to date with his friends stop being such a homebody. He would've said something, but his attention was taken away by a group of young men pulling into the body shop.

Taking his oil stained rage which huge from his shoulder, Burt whipped his hands clean and walked over.

"Welcome to Hummel's Tires and Lube, how can we be of service?"

The shorter of the three men stepped up, a look of distress playing across his face. "Yeah, hi. Um . . . I guess there's no easy way to say this. A group of guys basically beat the living . . . Or non-living since it's a car . . . Snot out of my car. I've been all over, but they keep sending me elsewhere. This car is my only way to get around, and my job is kind of a hike, so I really, really need it cleaned up and fast. I will pay whatever you want me to, at this point I'm so desperate, I don't care if I get ripped off. Will you please just help me?"

Burt stepped forward, placing a comforting hand on the man's shoulder. "Hey, its gonna be alright, okay? Let's just check out the damage and we'll see what we can do." Walking over to the car, Burt saw that the man wasn't fretting over nothing. Aside from the back window being smashed in, the sides had been keyed and dented, and all four tires slashed. Both license plates had been ripped off and head lights practically melted from being burned by something. "Well, I ain't gonna lie: its not pretty. With the repairs and paint jobs, and with any internal problems, it could cost you a grand or two, but I'll have to check up on it. You'll also need new plates, but you can order them here and get half off."

The young man stepped up, a hopeful gaze flashing. "Honestly, the cost isn't a problem. As long as it gets done soon, I'll pay almost anything."

"Well, hold your horses there. I've never cheated a customer and I'm gonna start now. I'll get my men to start straight away, and I should have the price by the end of the week."

"Seriously? Oh my God, thank you! God, you have no idea how rad you are. Thank you so much!"

Burt lifted a hand, silencing him. "Thank me when your car is back to life. Mercedes-Benz?" He asked, glancing once last time at the broken wreck.

"Two-thousand and nine CSL-Class Coupe." Blaine stated.

Burt winced. "Ouch. Nice brand too. I'll get my best guy on it now." Leaving the three men up front, Burt returned to the back to find Kurt cleaning up after his paint job. "Hey, Kurt, there's a kid up front with a garbage disposal of a car. I'm gonna go get Gary and Rex to start on the body work; mind starting the paper work for me?"

Tossing his rage onto the counter, Kurt ran his still damp hands down his overalls. "Yeah, no problem." After grabbing the clip board and pen from Burt's desk, Kurt went to the front. "Alright, I need the owner's name and phone num…ber."

Kurt's words died in his throat as he saw who the car belonged to. It was a rare chance of this happening, probably one out of a million, but it was happening.

"Kurt?" Blaine breathed.

Kurt almost blushed at the sight of Blaine. He was wearing normal every-day clothes again, and his hair was un-gelled and curly. Behind him were Wes and David, who had stopped checking out the car once they heard their friend speak his name.

"You work here?" Blaine asked.

"My dad is the owner." Kurt replied dumbly. "This is your car?"

Blaine bit his lip, running his hand over the back of his neck. "Ahh yeah. Aren't I lucky?"

Kurt laughed awkwardly. Aren't we all?