The weather got colder quicker than Kurt expected, and as the temperature began to plummet, he discovered yet another reason to despise Lima, Ohio.

Wind-chill.

Kurt couldn’t seem to get warm enough. He wore sweat pants, a long-sleeve thermal shirt, and two pairs of socks at night, and piled four comforters on his bed (because his father had something against heating the house) but it didn’t help. His thin skin was numb even before he got out of bed in the morning, and he spent his classes struggling to write his assignments while wearing thick gloves on his hands.

No more blissfully warm Santa Ana winters or Thanksgivings spent lying on the beach for Kurt Hummel. He tried his best to look on the bright side. At least the cold weather gave him more opportunities to break out his knee-high leather riding boots, his London Fog full-length trench coat, and his collection of vintage Marc Jacobs scarves.

His days were still spent avoiding Blaine and his gang, as well as trying to find other ways to pad his bank account. He had managed to make a few extra bucks a couple of afternoons a week by tutoring Azimio – the hulking jock who had tried to drench him on the first day of school - in French.

No, the irony was not lost on him.

It was a frigid Friday afternoon, and Kurt walked out into the school parking lot later than usual. Only a few cars were left, and among them, Kurt’s blue Eclipse stuck out like a sore thumb.

His custom paint job pretty much insured that he didn’t waste his time wandering the parking lot in search of his ride, but infuriatingly enough, it made him easy for others to find, too.

Since he arrived to school in the mornings later than the members of the McKinley Crew, he could easily avoid parking next to any of them. (Kurt observed that they must drive to school in a group because their cars were normally parked in a cluster all together. It made Kurt roll his eyes every day when he saw it.) But Blaine would sneak out to the parking lot during lunch break - when some of the other students left to eat off campus - and snag the parking spot next to Kurt…like he had today. Kurt considered keying the side of Blaine’s Mustang to teach him a lesson, but he found that he couldn’t. Blaine’s Mustang hadn’t done anything to offend him, and he couldn’t ruin the paint on such a gorgeous car.

And, maybe he couldn’t do that to Blaine, either.

Besides, it would just give Blaine an excuse to bring the car by Hummel Tires and Lube to have Kurt fix it.

As Kurt made his way through the cars to his Eclipse, he heard a soft whimpering sound, almost like the mewling of a lost toddler. Kurt looked over the row of cars and spotted Brittany sitting on the asphalt next to her pink Honda Fit. This was the first time Kurt had actually seen her car since Santana usually drove her everywhere. The squat little vehicle was the exact color of Pepto Bismol and had Hello Kitty stickers on every possible surface, except for the rear windshield, which sported two custom made vinyls: a huge red heart that had the initials B.P. + S.L. inside, and one of an obese cat wearing a crown and below it the caption Long Live Lord Tubbington!

Kurt got the impression from her chosen car décor that Brittany might like cats.

Brittany sat on the cold, wet ground with her legs splayed out in front of her. Kurt's first thought was that she had fallen and hurt herself, maybe twisted an ankle and couldn’t get back up. Kurt rounded the row of cars quickly to get to her. She didn’t look up at him as he approached. Her eyes were downcast and she looked pitifully sad. He walked up beside her and knelt down carefully to talk to her at eye level.

"Brittany," he said as soothingly as he could manage. "Honey, what's wrong?"

Brittany finally looked up, her eyes red rimmed and puffy from crying.

"I have a flat tire,” she said, her voice wavering. "I've been trying to fix it for an hour.” Kurt’s eyes darted quickly to look around her. He saw no jack, no tire iron, no spare tire. How in the world was she trying to fix it? “And now my hands are cold,” she continued. “I can't feel my fingertips.”

Kurt reached out to touch Brittany's trembling hand, and it was indeed cold as ice.

"Oh, sweetie,” he cooed, taking her hands in his and rubbing them to warm them up, “where's Bl-- Santana, and the rest of the crew?"

"They're still in Glee club practice,” Brittany explained. “I left early because I'm sick but when I got to my car, my tire was flat. And then I took all my antibiotics at once and I couldn't remember how to leave." Brittany looked back down at the ground, exceptionally forlorn.

Kurt chuckled softly at her adorable naiveté, hoping she hadn’t heard because he didn’t want to offend the poor girl. He took off his coat and wrapped it around her shoulders, then grabbed her arms to help her stand up off the asphalt.

"Put your arms through the sleeves and stick your hands in the pockets," he instructed her. He leaned down to look at the flat tire and noticed a nail wedged deep in the rubber, but that didn’t matter much since the tire itself was on its last leg, so to speak. He walked around the car and examined the rest of the tires - each one in terrible condition. All four of them were balding, the treads nearly flat and the rubber unevenly worn.

"Brittany," he said as he picked her keys up off the ground and opened the rear hatch of her car to get the jack and the spare. "All of your tires are just about gone, and it looks like your alignment is shot.”

“Wh-what does that mean?” she asked through chattering teeth as Kurt’s warm coat chased the chill from her body.

“It means you need all new tires.”

"Really?" She sounded confused. "I thought you just drove on them until they popped, and then you bought a brand new car."

Kurt shook his head.

“No, Brittany. You replace the tires, not the whole car.”

“Thank goodness,” she muttered, “because I really like my car.”

Brittany’s trunk looked like she’d been living out of it for months. Kurt was sure that she could get booked on the show Hoarders if the producers saw her trunk in the condition that it was in. After digging through several cheerleading magazines, numerous stuffed animals, three boxes of protein bars, and a motocross helmet, he found the flap to the spare tire well. He pried it up and removed the tire. Brittany watched Kurt as he worked at loosening the lug nuts, jacking up the car, and removing the flat.

"I found a bag of Gummy Bears in your pocket. Do you mind if I eat some?" she asked, though her muffled, mumbled words told Kurt that she had started in on the bag already. He laughed.

"Go ahead,” he said. “Knock yourself out."

Brittany looked at him thoughtfully as he lowered the car and turned the lug nuts, tightening the bolts and securing the tire.

"You're a unicorn, aren't you?" she asked around a mouthful of colorful candy bears. Kurt raised an eyebrow.

"I'm not sure I know what you mean," Kurt said. He put the flat tire into the spare tire well and covered it back up.

"Well," Brittany said, trying to dislodge a wayward bear from her tooth with her tongue, and then with her fingernail, "you look magical...like an elf or a fairy. And you do magical things."

Kurt shook his head, wiping his hands with a paper towel he found among her belongings.

"If you say so," Kurt replied with a smile.

"I think you are," she concluded. "Definitely. Blaine's a unicorn, too."

Kurt's smile faded slightly at the mention of Blaine’s name. This automatic response to hearing it made Kurt want to bite his tongue and spit bullets. Kurt didn’t want Blaine to have an effect on him. He didn’t want to have his days filled with thoughts of how much he missed Blaine, but Blaine was becoming difficult for Kurt to escape.

"Okay, Brittany." Kurt forced his smile back on his face and handed the girl her keys. "I think you're good to go."

"Thanks, Kurt!" Her face lit up, her effervescent smile beaming at him. Then her smile dropped a bit. "Oh, but I don't really have any money on me." She patted down her clothes beneath Kurt’s coat, but finding nothing she opened her passenger side door and reached into the glove box, pulling out a Hello Kitty change purse. Kurt felt guilty watching her stress out, trying to find a way to pay him. A hard knot formed in his chest. He put a gentle hand on hers.

"Don't worry about it," Kurt assured her. "This one's on the house."

Brittany opened her mouth to object, but Kurt put a finger to her lips to shush her.

"Why don't we just call this a friend helping a friend?" he suggested.

Brittany’s smile returned, and she kissed the finger that was still pressed to her lips.

"Hey, Hummel!" a shrill voice called loudly from across the parking lot. "What are you doing with my girl?"

Kurt sighed, looking up at Brittany who looked back at him with wide, sympathetic eyes.

"I was just leaving," he called back without looking over his shoulder at the pack of teenagers that headed his way.

"Now don't drive on those tires for long," Kurt advised Brittany. "Make sure you get new ones as soon as you can."

"I will," she said with an enthusiastic nod as he hurried past her toward his own car.

"Baby!" Kurt could hear Santana baby-talking to her girlfriend as he walked away. "You left an hour ago. I thought you were already home...and you've been crying! What did evil diva Hummel do?"

"He performed magic,” she announced happily. “He fixed my flat tire. He's a unicorn..." Brittany looked down at herself and her eyebrows knit together. "Oh, and he forgot his coat."

Blaine pushed past his crew and shuffled through the parked cars to catch up with Kurt, but Kurt had a sizable lead. He leapt into his car and was already pulling out of the parking lot, driving in the direction of home, by the time Blaine reached his Mustang.

Blaine watched him go, then turned and kicked the tire of the car closest to him in frustration. He cursed sharply underneath his breath before making his way back over to his crew.

"What's wrong, Blaine?" Brittany asked, popping another bear in her mouth as Santana rubbed a soothing hand up and down her girlfriend’s arm.

"He won't even talk to me," Blaine muttered, staring at his shoes.

"Well, you did kind of screw him over," Santana put in, taking Brittany into her arms and hugging her tight.

"Why do you even care?" Blaine snapped bitterly, his eyes flicking up to meet hers. "I don't see you trying to be all buddy-buddy with him."

"You’re right. I'm not," Santana said. "I couldn't care less, frankly. That doesn't mean I don't know how he feels. You know, to have a dream pulled out from under your feet. And I think you do, too."

Santana stared pointedly at Blaine until Blaine couldn’t look at her anymore. He turned his head back in the direction Kurt’s car had driven off in.

"So what does that mean?" Blaine asked, his anger curbing just a bit. "That I was just supposed to stand by and watch him get groped and assaulted?"

"You should have treated him like an adult. You should have trusted him to make the best decision for himself, and given him the freedom to choose," Brittany said as she shoved a whole handful of bears into her mouth this time. The whole group turned and looked at her in amazement, jaws hanging open, except for Santana who smiled proudly. Brittany looked up from her bag of bears when she noticed the sudden silence.

"What?" she said in response to their gawking. "I saw it on Dr. Phil."