Greased Lighting (Sam/Kurt)
Kurt was hardly surprised when his father calls up to tell him Steve has called in sick again for the billionth freaking time this month. He got the call between episodes of Next Top Model on a broiling Sunday morning, and was forced to ditch his bathrobe and cookie dough for his overalls (and a tasteful yet worn flannel shirt). It’d have been embarrassing if it wasn’t such a regular occurrence these days. Burt was never hesitant to call Kurt in, and so he’d had to learn to deal with dressing like a tacky grease monkey on a regular basis.
A few hours later, he was staring down a customer with neon red hair and far too much makeup on. Her heels clicked irritatingly as she paced, her hands deviating from her hips to waving madly in the air.
“- I mean at first it was fine, but now it’s been making this loud, whining sound when I turn and -”
That might just be you, Kurt thought to himself, arms draped over the register as he examined the customer waddling around in front of him. He wiped angrily at his brow before tossing a look at the car. “I assume you’ve had your serpentine belt looked at, correct?”
“There’s a snake in my car!?”
Kurt’s eyes flew open at the question, his attention snapping directly to the woman. “N-No. No. Wow, no. It’ll take half an hour, maybe an hour given the workload. Just go for a walk - we’ll contact you when it’s fixed,” Kurt instructed. He pushed away from the desk and circled around to the car the woman had been waving her arms at. This was stupid. He could usually handle customers’ with grace, but only when he hadn’t been called in last minute, and only when they didn’t snap at him like he was the idiot.
“I’m gonna go grab lunch for us. You sit tight, kiddo,” Burt smiled warmly, flicking the sign from ‘Open’ to ‘Back in half an hour’.
Although this afforded Kurt a break his sorely needed, he didn’t really feel like putting off an easy piece of work. It was a few simple tweaks, but he knew this was going to pay for those delicious customized Doc Marten’s he’d been eyeing on Etsy. With a feeble swipe at his brow, Kurt cracked open the bonnet and peered in. As he’d suspected, there were giant chunks missing from the belt - no freakin’ wonder this woman heard whining all the time.
The dull chime of someone entering through the civilian entrance caught Kurt’s attention, his eye line raising just enough to peer between the blinds. They kept all their money in plain sight within the garage, so the worst they could do was steal a tire or a sticker that had some lame slogan about road safety.
“We’re closed.”
All he could catch was a grey and red shirt, slated against pale skin and very clearly toned muscles. “Woah, Kurt,” the utterance had been a little lower than Sam had obviously meant, as he shook his head desperately. “Um. Hi! Hey!”
With mild confusion obvious, Kurt pushed himself up from the edge of the car, fingers tapping against the innards of the chassis as he considered the other from head to toe - the jeans looked familiar. Kurt hadn’t noticed how terribly dry his skin and lips had gotten in the adverse atmosphere of the garage. He unintentionally caught the other’s eye with the swipe of his tongue against his lips, his hands tucked carefully into his pockets. “What is it Sam?” He pursed his lips before tilting his head to the side.
“Oh. I was looking to - wait - you work here?”
Kurt gave him a look that practically screamed ‘are you freaking kidding me?’. He thumbed upward at the worn tin sign that spelled out his last name. “My father owns this place. I work here for allowance, and when his workers decide that life isn’t worth living.” Kurt worked at the back of his neck with a firm hand, stretching his back with a few successful pops. He lazily pawed at his eyes again - it had been a long day, and he’d been bent over cars for most of it.
When Sam failed to continue his line of thought, Kurt waved a hand gingerly in the air to catch his attention. “I was looking to sell off a few parts I found. Legally found. Some guy at the motel I’m living at OD’d and his car got towed, but there were parts left, and… Yeah.”
“Parts hmm? I’m sure I can appraise that for you, if you like.” Despite how lucid Sam managed to sound, Kurt noticed the failed attempts his eyes made to remain on his face. For whatever reason, he seemed to stray just left of him. It was odd, given they’d hung out on multiple occasions since their reconnection over pizza at Dalton. Kurt was fully aware that he was already smothered in enough grease and sweat to make him want to burn his skin off, but there wasn’t much he could do at the moment. He still had an entire afternoon to work. “Or you can wait for my dad to get back.”
Sam kept his lips rolled tightly into his mouth, his attention still being paid off into the distance somewhere.
“Is something the matter?”
“No.”
“Then you’re acting like this because…” Kurt encouraged, his eyebrow arched with intrigue. He had his arms crossed over his chest, which only made it painfully obvious how hard he’d been hit by puberty. It wasn’t as if he was suddenly Mr. Universe, but there was more to him than he was used to. He glared doubtfully down at his own arms before flicking his eyes back to Sam. He peered doubtfully from under his eyebrows briefly before clearing his throat.
“It’s - like - unexpected. I mean. You know how to work on cars? That’s pretty hot,” Sam instantly paled, his eyes widening, “I mean, girls would find that hot. I’d know. I totally… y’know. Girls.”
Kurt rolled his eyes with a gentle, knowing smile, “Oh yes, the ladies are so wild about me,” he laughed before wandering around the car. He had to admit, after seeing Sam donned in a bolo tie for prom, he could admire the other boy. “Now. Those parts you were talking about?”
The day outside was a lifeless dry heat, with such impossible silence that Kurt could hear his lazy breath. It was hard to adjust from the cooler inside to this heavy, hot feeling of the outdoors. There were very few people along the street, a strange occurrence for such a busy district of Lima. Sam kept in step with Kurt, his hands tucked into his jeans - Kurt’s old jeans - as he peered sideways at him. “This is it.” He sounded somehow embarrassed, but Kurt ignored it.
He approached the trunk of Sam’s batted old sedan; he noticed how Sam kept rolling his lips in a frequent pattern. He cocked an eyebrow, his arms tightly crossed over his chest as he waited for the trunk to pop. “I can’t actually say for sure how much they’ll be worth. It’s all supply and demand. That’s all definitely my dad’s area of expertise. All I can say is whether or not they’re in good enough condition to buy,” Kurt explained as Sam just stared with a slated frown. “Does this really bother you that much?”
“I just didn’t expect to ever see you like this. I mean, no offense, but… you’re pretty clean-cut usually.”
Kurt blew his bangs back into place, smoothing it with his cleaner hand. “It’s not something I ever think to mention. It’s like you telling me you did the dishes or that you wash your own clothes. This is all remedial chores,” he nodded, wiping his hands on a slinky piece of cloth that poked out of his overalls’ pocket.
Once the trunk dropped open, her leant in to try and retrieve the mixed bag of metal. The parts were acceptable, but not in amazing condition. At best it’d earn Sam a couple of hundred dollars, but given his living situation that may have been the difference between proper food and reheated McDonalds. Kurt glanced across to the approaching figure clutching a brown paper bag.
“Sam! Hey kiddo, how’s the family?”
“Good sir, thanks for asking,” Sam replied, standing up a little straighter and holding his expression a little more carefully. He managed to draw his eyes away from Kurt, settling his attention intently on Burt, “I just came in to sell some parts.”
“So that’s what you’re distracting m’boy with? Kurt, back to work. Stop getting distracted,” Burt instructed, a knowing smile drawn across his face. He fidgeted with his worn baseball cap as the two boys separated, Kurt pacing back inside to continue work on his car. He hung nearby the door to watch the exchange, hearing Sam’s surprise as Burt overestimated by at least four times.
“A grand?” Sam coughed, only cementing the smile on Kurt’s face.
Kurt bent across the car he’d been previously attending to, slipping off the old belt from the engine. He and his father weren’t rolling in money, but they were much better off than the Evans. Kurt had told his father all about it, too, simply because he kept asking if Sam was allowed to come over for dinner, or to stay on the couch downstairs. Blaine had been a little annoyed at first, but it hadn’t taken much to convince him that Kurt didn’t chase straight boys.
Footsteps caught Kurt’s attention as he was met with Sam a little closer than he’d anticipated. He squared his jaw before easing into a smile, “And what can I do for you, Sam?” he asked
At first, Sam was caught without words. They shared a speechless moment (and Kurt swore Sam’s hand wavered by his side). “I just wanted to thank you,” Sam shrugged, his bottom lip caught between nervous teeth. “I don’t just mean for before, checking the parts out. I meant with everything since Dalton…” his voice faded. It wasn’t necessary for him to finish, as the implication was there. Kurt had helped with his younger siblings, and he’d offered old clothes and snuck Sam food during lunch. It wasn’t pity, which Sam appreciated most. It was just a friend looking out for a friend.
“It’s fine, Sam.”
“I know, but I still wanted to say thank you. It’s the polite thing to do, after all.”
Kurt lips tightened into a thin line. There was a moment between them, surrounding them with unacknowledged silence. Kurt leant his hip against the side of the car, the serpentine belt around his wrist. He rolled it from hand to hand before dropping it aside, skillfully anticipating the hug that Sam gave him. “The jeans I gave you fit. I’m surprised,” Kurt laughed across Sam’s shoulder.
“Why? I’m not that fat!” Sam snapped, pulling back from Kurt to examine himself in a grimy hubcap that flattered no one.
“No, not at all! You just have more junk to lug around in the back than I do,” Kurt explained before pacing a few steps away. He examined the belt for its model number, attempt to guard the dull red that was now barely visible. Sam matched his colouring, his usual indifference replaced with the same warm smile he’d worn during their first session of Glee club together. “So how long do you intend to hang around here?”
“I haven’t got anything else to do today, and it’s really hot outside. It’s pretty nice in here,” Sam shrugged, his fingertips scratching across his collarbone absently.
“This isn’t really that exciting, I’m not sure what you’re expecting from me,” Kurt wandered across to the assortment of replacement parts, searching eagerly for the correct belt. After finally finding a matching rung of metal and plastic, he turned on his heel to be met with a concentrated expression crossed over Sam’s features. “There’s something else, isn’t there.”
Sam blinked decisively before closing the space between himself and Kurt in a few confident strides. Despite being smothered in grease and sweat, Kurt could actually make out the strong scent of cologne that had to be Sam’s. Kurt couldn’t define whether the scent had lingered from the hug, or because Sam kept switching from foot to foot whilst swishing his hair.
They were close enough to touch, but neither made that last effort to close the gap. They just remained staring blankly at one another before Sam resolved to speak once more. “I just wanted to say that - at prom? - I couldn’t believe it. Karofsky and his lame friends had to be in on it,” he growled.
“Trust me, Sam; no one is as mad about it as I am. Well, aside from Blaine, but…” Kurt trailed off, his arms laced together in front of him. It didn’t take a genius to know Sam didn’t care that much for Kurt’s boyfriend. Ever since Dalton, there’d been an unspoken tension between the two boys - since he’d returned to McKinley it’d only gotten worse. As Sam prompted him with an eyebrow raise, he kept a firm expression, “I’m taking it as an honour. Not everyone gets to be Prom Queen,” he sighed before attempting to side-step Sam towards the car he’d been working on.
“What’d Blaine ever do for you?” Sam scoffed, his hands buried deep in his pockets. He allowed the slightest space for Kurt to pass, remaining close to the other boy. Kurt kept glancing over his shoulder to Sam, unsure what exactly the blonde wanted.
“The fact he danced with me in front of everyone,” Kurt nodded thoughtfully, catching Sam’s eye unintentionally. “It’s something no one else would do. Not romantically, anyway.”
Sam’s lips snapped apart in a failed argument.
“I thought so,” Kurt smirked, his eyebrows knit together as he watched Sam’s long-held front crumble.
“That’s not even what I’m here to talk about, Kurt.”
Kurt shrugged, running slender fingers through his bangs once more. Sam gnawed on his bottom lip for a moment before stepping closely after Kurt, his hand settling on Kurt’s shoulder. Kurt barely glanced over his shoulder to Sam, his eyes wide and accusing. “I don’t blame you for acting the way you do. I just thought you’d trust me with - well - who you are.”
“Who I am I supposed to be?”
“Come on Sam, we’re not here to play existential crisis,” Kurt sighed, “just be yourself. That’s all anyone should ever be.”
The way the words fell from his mouth didn’t afford Kurt enough time to process the hand that was now drawing him closer. Before he knew it, he was pressed between the door of the car and a tall, determined looking blond. “Sam, what are you doing?” Kurt questioned, noticing instantly how the grease had already started marking up Sam’s clothes. He didn’t seem to notice, especially not when the crackle of thunder and wind picked up outside.
Weather had a funny way of flipping itself onto its head when you least expect it, Kurt noted mentally, his eyelids lazily drooped as he examined Sam’s face in unfamiliar detail. His tongue darted needlessly between his lips before he spoke, gently pushing Sam back. “I think you’re confused."
Sam shook his head purposefully. "No. I'm the total opposite of confused."