The boys came back to the shop right at 7:00, and Kurt, who had checked the clock every five minutes since his father left, had the shop ready for them.

Kurt had been spot on with his assessment of the silver car’s problem. He hustled with the ZX, working hard and fast, trying to be thorough while doing his best to impress the crew. After replacing a belt and making a few minor adjustments to the camber to keep it from pulling, the car was souped up and ready to race. The blond boy, Jeff, was so overjoyed that he grabbed Kurt up in a fierce hug, spun him around in a circle, and kissed him on the cheek, which didn't seem to go over too well with the dark haired boy, Nick.

"Well, Jeff seems to like you," Wes, their leader, said with a satisfied smile. "I guess that means you're in.”

Kurt grinned gratefully and nodded once, trying to remain frugal with his emotions, though secretly in his head he was fist-pumping the air.

“Nick, Jeff, and I are going to head to the race,” Wes informed him. “You can follow David. He's got the yellow Acura Integra.” Wes stuck out his hand for Kurt to shake. “Nice to have you on the team, Porcelain."

Kurt wasn’t too thrilled with the new moniker, but beggars can’t be choosers. This was an incredible opportunity, and he would be an idiot to turn it down over something as petty as a nickname. Besides, everyone on the crew probably had one. He eagerly took Wes’s offered hand and shook it.

“Alright,” Jeff cheered, patting Kurt on the back as he passed him by on the way to his car, tugging Nick along behind him. Nick regarded Kurt with a blank expression and clapped him on the back as well, but with a lot less enthusiasm than his friend.

“Come on, Kurt.” David waved him along as he followed the other three out of the bay and split off toward his car.

“Give me a second to lock up.” Kurt rushed to switch off the lights and activate the alarm system. He couldn’t help giggling to himself as he pulled the metal gate shut. His future seemed bright again, and in record time, too. Sure, moving out to Buttfuck, Ohio was a hiccup on the road to achieving his dream, but now he was back on course.

He jumped into his Eclipse, resisting the urge to crow in triumph, so he did it quietly in his head instead.

NYADA, here I come.

***

Kurt hadn't had the opportunity to explore much of Lima since the move. Most of his time he spent at home or the shop. He had stopped by the local high school to fill out some paperwork, and did a drive by the hospital to see how fast he could make it from his house there, just in case. Other than that, he hadn't gone anywhere.

A thrill of excitement shot through Kurt as he followed David down back roads and surface streets to the unincorporated section of Lima. It was a nice change, opening up his Eclipse as he traveled down the deserted streets and into the business park. Even in California, he didn't have much of an opportunity to see what his car could do. He reminisced on the few times he got to take her out to the desert, speeding along winding roads and over abandoned dirt paths; feeling happy and young and free.

All too soon the ride ended, but a new thrill had just begun. At the end of the street, bright lights glowed in every conceivable color. Bass boomed until the concrete vibrated with it. A cacophony of laughing and yelling and discordant music filled the humid night. The air around him pulsed with energy, and Kurt sucked it all in.

David led Kurt slowly through crowded streets lined with cars, different crews segregated in tight clusters, tuning their engines or jabbering; even placing bets on the upcoming races.

Kurt smiled. He breathed. He felt more at home.

David and Kurt took the street all the way to the end. Kurt already recognized Jeff's 300ZX and Wes's blue and orange Toyota Supra. Kurt and David pulled alongside them and parked. Kurt could feel eyes on him as he stepped from his car and approached the group. Wes put a hand on Kurt's shoulder and led him over to seven cars, lined up side by side. Most of the boys were engaged in animated conversations, but two boys in particular saw them approach and immediately walked over. Kurt felt a little out of his element around them. Every member of Wes's crew, with the exception of Jeff, dressed in designer clothes while Kurt still wore his overalls from work, but more than that, he was wary of the looks in these two boys' eyes - eyes trained on him like laser sights.

Wes gestured to them.

"This is Dave Karofsky," he said, indicating the larger, burly boy, "but he goes by Monster. And this is Sebastian Smythe." The taller boy with the perfectly coifed hair smiled, showing his immaculate, white teeth. Dave nodded with a small grunt in Kurt's direction, his mouth set in a thin line. Sebastian cut in front of Dave swiftly and took Kurt by the elbow. Kurt saw Dave stiffen.

"Well, hello gorgeous," Sebastian said, leaning forward to quickly peck Kurt on the cheek. Despite himself, Kurt blushed. "Thank God you're here. I need to you take a look at my car."

"Shouldn't I ask around first?" Kurt was eager to put some space between himself and Sebastian.

"I don't see why." Sebastian seemed unable or unwilling to sense Kurt's discomfort with his closeness. "Those other cars are good, but mine is really the flagship of the crew. So you can start with mine and work your way down from there."

Sebastian led Kurt away before he could object any further, and walked him over to the most beautiful sight Kurt had ever seen. Sitting strategically underneath a street light to emphasize all its glory, Sebastian had parked his blue and red Nissan GT-R.

"Oh my God," Kurt breathed, breaking away from Sebastian's grip on his elbow to walk over to the car. Sebastian hummed appreciatively as his eyes followed Kurt's lithe form. Kurt paced the length of the car, taking in every crisp line, every curve, every intricate detail.

'Custom wheels, of course,' Kurt appraised. 'Carbon fiber rear spoiler, and that has to be an aftermarket paint job.' Kurt peeked through the passenger window, unaware that his mouth had dropped open. 'God,' Kurt thought, catching himself before he moaned out loud, 'look at those gorgeous leather seats. I bet you those smell fantastic. And everything's so clean. Does he even drive it?...Asshole...'

"You want to take a peek under the hood?" Sebastian preened proudly.

"Please," Kurt said. Sebastian raised the hood and this time Kurt did moan. Sebastian's eyes flashed at the sound, and his wicked grin curled even higher towards his piercing eyes. Sebastian leaned casually as close to Kurt as he could. Kurt bent low over the engine well. Sebastian watched him, letting his mind wander over the tight fit of Kurt's overalls. Kurt shifted positions and Sebastian took in a sharp breath.

Kurt heard the muted gasp and rolled his eyes. He wished Sebastian would go somewhere else for a moment and leave him alone with this exceptional car. He tried to block out the overbearing presence that was Sebastian Smythe, but the CK cologne he bathed in made it more than a little difficult.

Kurt felt Sebastian inch closer and tried as subtly as possible to move away.

"What's up, baby?" Sebastian purred, leaning in to Kurt's shoulder. "Am I making you nervous?"

"Uh..." Kurt looked up to see Sebastian's green eyes lingering too close for comfort, "I just...your cologne...it's coming on a bit strong."

"I'm sorry you don't like it, baby." Sebastian stuck out his lip, pretending to pout. "I use it to mask the smell of the motor oil around here."

"And what's wrong with the smell of motor oil?" Kurt snapped, more defensive than he intended. "It's the smell of an honest day's work."

'Yikes,' Kurt thought for a second. 'I sound like my dad.'

"I never said I didn't like it." Sebastian inhaled along the column of Kurt's neck as he spoke. "Actually, it's kinda hot."

Kurt shot up quickly, desperately feeling the need to move on. "Was there something specific you wanted me to look at?"

"Why, yes, actually," Sebastian said with a too wide grin. Kurt closed his eyes and breathed out in frustration.

"I meant the car, Sebastian."

"Nope," Sebastian said smugly. "I just brought you over here to enjoy the view."

Kurt sighed and looked down at the amazing piece of machinery he had his hands on...and then up at the piece of work in front of him.

'Another time, beautiful,' Kurt thought mournfully as he took a last fleeting glance at the pristine Nissan laid open for him.

"I should be moving on then," Kurt said. "It looks like Monster's been glaring over here for the last five minutes, so I better see what he needs."

Sebastian made a reach for Kurt's hand, but Kurt managed to slink out of his grasp.

"It was nice meeting you," he said, with an obvious side-long look at the car, then turned and hurried away to where Dave stood next to his Dodge Charger, eyes locked unnervingly on him.

***

"Blaine!" a blonde girl squealed, running at him and leaping into his arms. "You're back! You're really back!"

"Yeah, Brittany," Blaine said, placing a light kiss to the top of her head, "I'm definitely back."

A tall boy in a red letterman's jacket and a Mohawk cresting over his otherwise shaved head came up and offered Blaine a hand, which Blaine took.

"Look who's back, rolling with the McKinley Crew!?" the boy cheered, pulling Blaine in for a hug.

"Hey, Puck." Blaine embraced him back.

"That's a bum deal about your dad," Puck said.

"No worries, man." Blaine patted Puck on the arm. "So, is the whole crew here?"

"Yup. Finn and Sam are already at the starting line, shooting the shit with some Crawford Country Day girls..." Puck pointed to where two boys in similar red letterman jackets sat with their cars, chatting up some girls in obscenely short skirts.

"You saw Britt."

"Yeah," Blaine said with a grin. "But where's Tana?"

"Oh, Santana's ripping some guy a new one for offering Britt a ride." Almost on cue, Blaine could hear an angry Latina cursing in fluent Spanish at some poor guy she had pinned against a vile green Honda Civic. He nodded frantically at every word she said, his eyes shifting left and right, searching for a way to escape, looking for all intents and purposes like he'd rather melt into the floor and die.

"Annnnnd Mike and Tina." Puck gestured vaguely at a purple Mazda RX-7, rocking fairly steadily where it was parked in a far corner.

"Gotcha," Blaine said with a nod and a wink.

"Yup, all present and accounted for, just waiting for their benevolent dictator to reclaim his throne."

"Oh, no, Puck," Blaine said, shaking his head, "I can't do that to you. I've been gone for months. This is your crew now."

"Hecks no, brother." Puck laughed, shaking his own head emphatically. "I was just keeping the seat warm for you, if you will. Truth be told, the perks of leadership are not all they’re cracked up to be. Besides, nothing was the same without you around."

Blaine put an arm around his friend.

"Only if you're sure."

"Positive," Puck assured him.

"I assume Wes and his boys have made an appearance." Blaine glanced over the cars, trying to identify any member of the rival crew.

"Don't you know it?"

The McKinley Crew converged as Blaine and Puck made the rounds, each welcoming their leader with a hug or a clap on the back. They fell back into the comfortable routine of joking, catching up, and enjoying each other's company.

As the rest of the crew laughed and talked, Blaine let his eyes wander. There was an excellent turn out. Rows of cars lined the streets, some with their hoods open. A lot of the drivers Blaine knew, a couple he didn't. He sought out and found Dalton's Crew. Wes, their crew chief, had his arms draped over two Crawford Country Day girls. Blaine wondered for a moment how his girlfriend felt about that. Past the cars and the tight cluster of drivers jawing loudly, he saw a sight that made him stop, stare, and certain parts of his body take notice. Bent deep over the engine of a familiar blood red Dodge Charger was a pair of gun metal grey overalls stretched over the most amazing ass Blaine had ever seen. Even at this distance, Blaine could hear the boy's voice as he muttered angrily, hands emerging every once in a while to wipe themselves on a ratty old rag hanging over the frame.

The boy in the overalls stood slightly, and Blaine caught a peek of his stunning silhouette. Skin so pale it glowed and a head of perfectly styled chestnut-colored hair, this boy looked far from real, and way too delicate to be covered in grease. Regardless, it suited him. His high cheek bones were a perfect frame for what appeared to be a carefully chiseled nose. His eyes flashed in the HIDs of passing cars, the white lights reflecting their color - the most complex combination of blue-green Blaine had ever seen. Blaine smiled. He had to meet this guy.

Blaine walked over to the boy, chuckling internally with the argument he was having almost with himself, as the car's owner stared at him, confounded.

"Now, why would you do that?" the mechanic lamented. "Did you even look at the specs or did you just decide to stick plugs into holes?" The boy looking over the mechanic's shoulder grunted, fists balled tight at his side.

"Take it easy, Monster," Blaine said, pushing the lurking human wall away with a hand to the chest, "I'm sure he meant that in the best possible way."

At the sound of the new voice, Kurt stood up.

"No," Kurt said, wiping the back of one hand across his brow, "I meant it exactly the way it sounded."

Kurt lowered the hood of the car, and turned the full fire of his gaze on the hulking boy to his right.

"Now drive her around the block a couple of times and if nothing blows up I'm sure you'll be fine."

Kurt turned on his heel and headed away, barely paying any attention to Blaine. Blaine looked back at Monster, who wore an unreadable expression as he watched the mechanic saunter away before getting in his car and driving off down the street.

Blaine turned back to the boy in the overalls as he hurried off to another car. Blaine ran to catch up.

"And what do you need?" Kurt asked, not even turning his head to acknowledge Blaine as he followed him.

"I need you, actually." Blaine reached out to grab Kurt's arm and stop his momentum. Kurt's heart fluttered at the touch of this boy's hand and the seductive sound of his voice. Kurt took a moment to surreptitiously look the boy up and down. Dark blue jeans clung to his legs, leaving little to the imagination, but neither did the tight red polo shirt that hugged his chest. Then there was the cliché leather jacket, but Kurt had to admit, he wore it well. At least it wasn’t one of those dime-a-dozen motorcycle jackets. That would have been an unforgivable sin; an insult to Kurt’s discerning fashion sense.

Kurt happened to be a sucker for a bad boy.

Kurt's eyes returned to the boy's grin. Despite his efforts to be nonchalant, the boy had definitely noticed Kurt giving him a once over. Kurt swallowed. He locked eyes with Blaine and blushed.

"What?" Kurt responded. almost breathlessly.

"You are the mechanic, right?" Blaine asked, eyebrows raised. "For the Dalton Crew?"

"Yes," Kurt answered, coming back to himself. "Yes, I most definitely am."

"I need you to take a look at my baby." Blaine motioned vaguely over his shoulder. "I think I have an issue with my NOS. It's giving me problems."

Kurt let out the breath he was holding, letting his eyes drift over Blaine's shoulders to a large black car in the distance.

"I'll take a look." Kurt sprang forward, tossing his rag over a shoulder. He approached the black 2007 Mustang GT and raised his eyebrows. Blaine nodded.

"So, you're rolling American Muscle." Kurt looked over the car. "Doesn't that put you at a disadvantage with these tuner cars?"

"What I lack in acceleration, I make up for in power." Blaine lowered his voice a bit, and the suggestion wasn't lost on Kurt. "At least I didn't opt for a Miata."

"At least," Kurt chuckled. Kurt turned at the driver's side door and Blaine was suddenly there behind him, crowding him. 'Jeez,' Kurt thought, 'don't these guys know about personal space?'

"Well," Kurt said expectantly, "show me where you keep it."

Blaine's eyebrows shot straight to his hairline. Kurt rolled his eyes.

"Your NOS," he clarified. Blaine opened the door to his car and gestured inside.

Kurt bent over to peer into the car, and Blaine's breath hitched in his throat. There it was again - that gorgeous ass that summoned him from across the parking lot. Blaine's hands twitched at his sides, itching to grab this boy's hips and pull him towards him, to feel him against him. Maybe this year would be interesting after all, Blaine thought. Kurt rummaged inside Blaine's car, every adjustment and movement of Kurt's hips driving Blaine insane.

"Who put this in?" Kurt asked over his shoulder, and Blaine had to take a breath to steady himself before he could even think of answering Kurt's question.

"I did," Blaine replied, not moving his eyes from the curves of Kurt's ass.

"Well," Kurt said, "there's your first problem."

"Hey," Blaine said, indignant. Kurt giggled, the sound of Kurt’s laughter setting Blaine nearly ablaze with desire for this beautiful boy, already bent over in his car. The overall image was almost too much.

"Well" - Kurt stood - "I think you probably have a kink in your line."

Blaine came up close, cornering Kurt between his body and the car.

"And what do you know about the condition of my line?" Blaine whispered. Blaine's breath over the skin of Kurt's neck sent shivers throughout his whole body.

Kurt's reaction to Blaine's advances confused him a little. Why was standing this close to Blaine different than being leered at by Sebastian? Kurt should have the same reaction to this arrogant jackass as he did when Sebastian made his suggestive comments. Something about Blaine felt alluring, even if he did seem to think he was God's gift. Getting involved with Sebastian just seemed empty…and dangerous.

Then there were Kurt's own traitorous thoughts. Oh, the things he could imagine Blaine doing to him on the hood of this beautiful car.

"Well," Kurt started, trying not to sound like his whole body was about to spontaneously burst into flame. "You press that little button, you wait a bit, then it pulls hard? You get black smoke?"

"Aha," Blaine said, his eyes heavy lidded, closing the space between them, and why did everything he just said suddenly sound really dirty?

Kurt took in a sharp breath as he felt Blaine's leg wedge itself gently between his. Kurt was trapped; there was nowhere for him to go, and for the first time in his life, Kurt didn't mind at all. Kurt could feel Blaine's lips ghost over his skin, felt goosebumps forming. Kurt swallowed hard, lifting a hand and settling it on Blaine's chest...and pushed him firmly away.

When Kurt looked back into Blaine's eyes, they were wide with surprise, but his lips were curled in a devilish grin.

Blaine loved a challenge.

"You're running a 150 shot," Kurt continued, clearing his throat. "I would recommend replacing it with a 75 shot until you have the kinks fixed, and get her a blanket. I don't think she's getting hot enough."

"I don't know" – Blaine’s eyes traveled shamelessly down Kurt's body - "I think he's getting plenty hot." Kurt looked away, thankful for the dark night covering the crimson flush he knew colored his cheeks. But the darkness did nothing to hide the obvious bulge that was forming in the front of his overalls. Kurt knew from the smirk on Blaine's lips that he noticed it, too.

"Well" - Kurt ducked underneath Blaine's arm and walked around to the front of the car – “there's nothing I can do for you now, but if you come by the shop I can definitely help you out."

"I'll do that," Blaine said, stalking Kurt as he popped Blaine's hood to check out the engine. "I'll stop by and you can help me, you know, work out the kinks."

Kurt stood quickly, almost slamming his head on the metal hood.

"And what do we have here, Kurt?" Wes walked up to them, looking less than amused. "Fraternizing with the enemy?"

"Wha…what?" Kurt sputtered, looking between Blaine and Wes.

"Hello, Wes," Blaine said, his smile plastered stiffly to his face. "Nice to see you again."

"Blaine." Wes acknowledged the shorter man with a curt nod.

"I'm sorry, Wes," Kurt said, a slightly frantic look on his face that made Blaine frown. "He said he was with your crew."

"Technically, I asked if you were the mechanic for Dalton's Crew," Blaine said. "I never said I was with them."

Kurt's eyes were burning again, focused on Blaine and set to kill. His features went rigid, his warm smile gone, and Blaine felt guilty.

"Come along, Kurt." Wes secured a hand to Kurt's shoulder, turning him away. "Hunter needs you to take a look at his brakes."

Without so much as a good-bye, Kurt walked off with Wes. Blaine couldn't help but notice how uncomfortable Kurt seemed in Wes's presence, or any of the Dalton's Crew's presence for that matter. Blaine's heart went out to him. Wes used to be an easy going guy, but now he was growing into an unforgiving man.

Blaine shook his head sadly as he climbed into his car. He closed the door and took a breath, ready to drive back over to his crew until he caught a hint of something that wasn't there before. It settled in the air around him - on the steering wheel where Kurt had brushed it with his hip, on the leather of the seats where Kurt had rested his hands, and on the front of Blaine's jacket where Kurt had pressed up against him, hard and wanting. He had breathed it in when he had gotten so close to Kurt he could see the tiny freckles sprinkled across his nose and the subtle flecks of grey in his blue-green eyes. It was the scent of vanilla, somehow managing to overwhelm the smell of motor oil around him. Blaine closed his eyes and breathed in, trying to recall the look in Kurt's eyes from moments before, the soft glow of heat that shimmered beneath their depths - before Kurt hated him.