Jeremiah shoved his hands deep into his pockets as he maneuvered through the groups of teams gathered tightly together around their cars, hoods opened, displaying their engines while the mechanics buzzed around like bees. Jeremiah tightened his arms and went rigid, trying to keep his body heat trapped beneath the thin fabric of the military style jacket his boyfriend had lent him.

‘Such a California boy,’ Jeremiah mused, shaking his head of tawny brown curls as a shiver shot through him. ‘Choosing style over function.’ He smiled at the thought of his adorable surfer boy, and relished the fact that at least the jacket still smelled like Ryan – a comforting mixture of Coppertone and salt water.

His blue eyes swept the scene, hoping to find the McKinley Crew, a familiar black Mustang, and its charming owner.

Jeremiah remembered running with Blaine’s crew, back when he craved racing fast cars and the drama that went with it. That’s how he met Blaine. Even a few years younger than him, Jeremiah couldn’t deny that that boy was a heart breaker. Blaine crushed on Jeremiah pretty hard, too. For a while, it was all Jeremiah could do to keep turning him down. Eventually, Blaine got the hint, and the two of them managed to maintain a close friendship since they shared one thing – disapproving parents. Granted, when it came to disappointment, Blaine’s parents won the prize hands down. Once Jeremiah got into Stanford, his parents came around, accepting him, his lifestyle, and the sexy boyfriend that went along with it.

Jeremiah finally caught sight of his friend, perched on the hood of his precious car, eyes gazing longingly up a slight rise where a rival crew’s cars sat lined up together. Jeremiah knew Blaine wasn’t really into imports, which described every car on display.

‘So…’ Jeremiah thought to himself with a smile as he eyed the drivers, looking for anyone new that he might not recognize, ‘there must be a guy…’

Blaine spotted Jeremiah as he approached, his mega-watt smile about a thousand times brighter than when Jeremiah last saw him.

‘Must be a hot guy…’

“Jeremiah!” Blaine greeted him, wrapping his arms around his friend’s waist. “So this is it, huh? You’re really leaving us then?”

“Yup,” Jeremiah said. “Leaving your sorry asses in search of sunnier climes.”

Blaine started to pull away, but Jeremiah moved with him, objecting with a whine at the loss of body heat.

“Oh, don’t let go so fast, Anderson. You’re warm, and I’m freezing.”

Blaine chuckled as he held on tighter.

“So,” Jeremiah teased, “tell me about this guy…”

Blaine sighed, turning his head to where the Dalton cars sat parked with their owners loitering nearby. Blaine sought out and found Kurt, bouncing between Hunter’s gold Silvia and Sebastian’s GT-R.

“You see that gorgeous angel over there in the gunmetal gray overalls?”

Jeremiah’s eyes flicked up the rise to where a tall, lithe figure moved from car to car, looking intensely at the screen of a handheld device.

“You mean the one Smythe has his eyes all over?”

Blaine inadvertently tightened his grip.

“Yeah,” Blaine growled. “That’s a bit of a complication.”

“Wouldn’t a bigger complication be that he’s a member of the Dalton Crew?” Jeremiah smirked.

“That’s no biggie,” Blaine said. “He goes to McKinley and he lives here in Lima. He works at his dad’s tire shop.”

“And are you sure his big appeal isn’t that nabbing him would piss the pants off of Wes?”

Blaine looked up at Jeremiah - a big, goofy grin curling the corners of his mouth.

“Nah, man. I mean, that’s a plus, don’t get me wrong. But that doesn’t matter. He’s it, man. The real deal.”

Jeremiah nodded. “Have you talked to him yet?”

“Yup,” Blaine said suggestively, cocking an eyebrow. “Turned on the old Anderson charm."

This time, Jeremiah laughed in earnest. “So, what happened after he slapped you?”

Blaine’s cocky grin turned sour. “And therein lies the only real problem.”

“What’s that?”

“I think he hates me.”

"Awww," Jeremiah teased, leaning in and kissing Blaine on the cheek. "Who could hate you, Blainers?"

Blaine laughed, nearly snorting, and shook his head.

Jeremiah looked back toward Blaine’s beautiful boy with interest and huffed out a laugh. "Uh...so you think he hates you, huh?"

"Yup," Blaine said as his laughter died down.

“Well, something tells me that’s not going to change any time soon.”

Blaine broke away from Jeremiah’s embrace and chanced a glance toward the Dalton cars to see a flash of ice blue trained his way for just a second, a glare set to kill, before Kurt stormed off.

“Shit!” Blaine exhaled. “What the fuck!?”

Jeremiah rolled his eyes at his clueless friend.

“Blaine?” Jeremiah clamped a hand on his shoulder and shook him gently. “I think this would be a perfect time to try and go break the ice.”

Blaine nodded briefly, turning to Jeremiah and flashing him a quick smile before darting away after his prize.

Jeremiah laughed.

‘Teenager drama,’ he thought with a sigh. ‘Thank God all of that is behind me.’