Dave missed being sixteen. He missed hanging out with his friends, buying slushies, turning in homework late, and disobeying his parents. He missed failed exams and angry principals and pretending to check out girls to fit in.

When he'd been sixteen, that's all life had been about—fitting in. And God, it had seemed so hard back then.

As it turned out, the American economy was much worse. It was hard to get a job period, much more so if one was eighteen years old and fresh out of juvenile hall, with a record that raised an eyebrow and pretty much killed Dave's chance of finding a legit way to keep himself fed.

He pretty much knew he couldn't go home, and those high school friends of his? Dave hadn't forged a single friendship that could stand against a criminal record and a serious loner streak. Hell, most of his old friends were getting ready to go to college. Worrying about SAT scores. Woo hoo.

Meanwhile, Dave sipped cold coffee as he checked for jobs online. He'd managed to get a laptop, and sat parked in his old truck a few feet outside of a McDonalds, ripping off the free internet and hoping he didn't die from heat stroke. Even with the windows rolled down, it was a bright, clear late summer day, and he wouldn't have been surprised if the temperature outside was close to 100 F.

He applied for jobs online, then tucked away his laptop with a sigh and started the engine. Dave knew he'd have a better chance at getting a job if he tried to find a place in person, and he'd started working his way around Lima the week before. According to the little Red Wings notebook on his dash, his next stop was at a place called Hummel Lube and Tire.

The smells and sounds of the garage were almost enough to distract Dave from the application in front of him—and what a welcome distraction it would have been. High school? Eh. References? Blehhh. Conviction of a felony or misdemeanor?

Dave seriously wondered how many guys just straight-up shot themselves trying to fill these things out.

The guy who owned the place seemed nice, in a don't-mess-with-me-American-male way. Dave respected that. He didn't seem overly friendly. He seemed cautious of Dave. In Dave's book, that made him a special kind of smart, more valuable than the "smart" label slapped on Dave way back in fourth grade that haunted him until two years ago, when teachers and counselors used it against him, telling him they knew he could do better.

People smarts and street smarts definitely outweighed IQ and mathematical aptitude in the real world.

The owner watched Dave out of the corner of his eye as he helped a customer check out. Dave wasn't sure how to take that, so he tried his hardest just to fill out the damn application, shake the man's hand, and leave. It seemed Mr. Hummel had different plans, though, and a few minutes later he was leading Dave around the garage, introducing him to people, showing him where everything was, and when Dave watched him fold the application and slip it in his back pocket while leading Dave into the employee break area, Dave had to fight the urge to pump his fist in the air.

He thanked God for every time his piece of shit truck had broken down when Mr. Hummel took him over to a car that another employee was working on. They talked about how to find problems, and how to fix them, and though Dave knew he wasn't the perfect applicant, it seemed that his business attitude and tendency to address the older man as, "Sir" definitely scored him some points.

Dave tried his best to be a dutiful employee. He showed up at work early, stayed late, took on work instead of slacking off, and showed as much respect to Mr. Hummel as anyone he'd ever met. Some of the other guys had warned him about the boss's son, and how he'd better never say anything about him, not to make any "wise-ass remarks" or "point out the obvious" about the kid.

Needless to say, Dave was a little surprised that Mr. Hummel's son, instead of being deformed or God forbid, some sort of hipster, was completely flaming gay.

He looked young, but tall, probably as tall as Dave. He was definitely slimmer, though, and much better-groomed, with perfect skin and hair. Dave openly stared at him, catching some of the other guys mouthing things at him as the boy walked past, and it took him a minute to realized that Hummel Jr. was wearing the boy's version of a McKinley cheerleading uniform.

Several thoughts struck Dave at that moment. These thoughts stopped mattering immediately when Mr. Hummel entered the garage.

His son sashayed up to him and gave him a hug.

Dave turned away, trying to make his brain shut the fuck up and his dick forget that image. He did not need to get fired for creeping on the boss's son. Not in this economy. Not with his record.

As he worked away, Hummel Jr.'s musical voice floated through the garage. Another mechanic caught Dave's eye and made a limp-wristed gesture at him. Dave just stared hard at the other man, trying to figure out if the guy should get off light for just trying to be friendly with him, or punched in the face for being a dick.

It reminded him of all of the crap he'd had to deal with when he was sixteen. Maybe it wasn't such a sweet year. Having to put up with snide remarks and gestures about his sexual orientation had always set his face aflame, and sent his blood boiling…and the remarks had never been directed at him, always some kid who was really obvious, some kid who wasn't afraid of showing who they were. And Dave had gone along with it for a while, making the remarks, nodding and laughing and wishing he could be that wonderful too. That he could let everything that was special about himself shine.

He'd started hating his friends, right about then. After a while, he'd found some new ones, and the rest was history.

When he looked up, Dave saw that Hummel Jr. was sneaking a look at him. He tried to shrug it off, but as he went back to work he strained to hear the conversation between the boss and his kid.

"Dad…who is that?" the boy asked. God, they were talking about him. Dave knew he should have felt mortified, or at least insulted by the fact that they were talking about him behind his back, but he couldn't kept but feel intrigued. Having a gorgeous guy pay attention to him was something Dave wasn't used to. He hoped he wasn't just imagining the interest in the boy's voice.

"New guy," Mr. Hummel said with a shrug. "Hired him last week. Not sure how much I like him, yet, but he's a good worker." He shifting his weight from one foot to the other as he changed topics.

"Speaking of good work, how are Cheerios tryouts? Didja make the team?"

"Daaaaaaaaaaaaad…I'm a Junior. I'm stuck on the squad, until I break a hip or bleed out. Even a military draft wouldn't get me out."

Mr. Hummel chuckled at his son's antics, completely unaware that every word he spoke was the truth. "Well, then, did you grill the new girls? …and guys? The new Cheerios?"

Dave listened to the conversation on and off, fighting the urge to sneak looks at Jr.'s ass in those snug red pants. He failed, of course, and watched the boy's hips sway as he spoke with his father. Dave totally got why the kid would make the other mechanics uncomfortable…Jesus Christ, who wouldn't want to jump that?

He tried to catch the boy's name, and after listening for about ten more minutes he heard it.

Kurt.

Kurt ran upstairs to his room. He was filthy from Cheerios practice, and every kind of sore that wasn't fun. He stripped off his uniform, tossing it lightly into his hamper and ignoring his reflection in the mirror as his body was exposed. He lightly ran his finger tips over his abs, checking to see if they'd firmed up at all, before rolling his eyes and heading for the shower.

Coach Sylvester found something "special" to nitpick about each of her Cheerios. For some, it was fake boobs, or pregnancy scares, or getting lost in the sewers in the summer. For Kurt, it had started out as homophobic slurs, but after a visit from Kurt's father the Coach had taken to Kurt's body tone and complexion, which everyone at WMHS knew Kurt was sensitive about.

He looked at his body as little as possible as he showered, and any inspection he performed was purely clinical. As Kurt washed his hair, he closed his eyes and treated himself to a little fantasy: that he finds himself in the shower, just like this, only another body would sneak in behind him, brushing his chest against Kurt's back and running his hands along Kurt's torso.

He tried to keep his thoughts PG-13. There was little he could imagine in detail…and though he had masturbated before, he always felt sick and guilty afterwards. It was easier to keep his thoughts light and pleasant and out of the gutter.

Kurt wrapped his arms around himself in the shower, pretending that the other man would hold him from behind, and rock their bodies from side to side gently. Kiss the back of Kurt's neck. Relax him, rejoice in him, love him.

He shook his head at himself and rinsed his hair. He was not an expert on gay sex or any kind of sex at all, and it made the fantasy fall flat. What was he supposed to do next? Bend over? Get on his knees? Kurt failed to see the allure of these options.

When he finished in the shower, Kurt dried off and, still ignoring his mirror, wrapped himself in his robe. The tedious tasks of hair care and skin care gave him time to think, and his thoughts wandered to the new employee in his dad's garage. How old was he? Did he have a girlfriend? Did he go to school?

He entertained himself by asking these stupid questions, but as he reached for another bottle, the questions started to go in a new direction. What did his chest look like? His arms? Did he have chest hair? How wide were his hips? His dick, for that matter?

Kurt stopped himself for a moment, surprised at his own thoughts. He was starting to get aroused thinking about the young man. This was definitely creeper behavior, and Kurt Hummel was not a creeper.

That didn't stop him from returning to lazy, warm thoughts of broad shoulders and a strong chest as he went to sleep.

As the days started to cool off, Kurt drove to the garage more and more, trying to check up on (or check out) the new employee. He was too nervous to even stand close to him when his father was in the office or walking around the garage, and on most days he just snuck a couple of looks. One day, he spied the name "Dave" on the thick blue coveralls the other boy wore.

He tried not to think of that name when he was alone at night.

A few days later, against his better judgment, he stole away into his father's office and hunted down Dave's job application. He glanced over most of it…hmm, Dave had gone to McKinley, had taken some courses or others….ahh!

Eighteen years old.

Kurt's heart pounded as he tucked the application back into place. His hands shook a little. So Dave really was close to his age. Kurt was going to turn seventeen soon. Dave was eighteen. That was doable, wasn't it? Legal?

He peered out the blinds, his eyes immediately settling on Dave. Unaware that he was being watched, the mechanic pulled himself out of the hood of an SUV and wiped his face off. It was still blisteringly hot in the garage, and Kurt could practically feel the sweat that had gathered on the other boy's chest and arms and groin. His pulse flickered as he watched Dave adjust himself in his pants. For a moment, Kurt thought about *what* Dave was adjusting, and how uncomfortable he must have been. Better to take off his clothes…wash off all that sweat and muck from the cars…he wondered if Dave would let him help…

The door to the office shook open, and Kurt snapped up ramrod straight, his breath hitching as his father entered the office. His grandmother had raised no fool, and Burt could immediately tell that his son had been up to no good.

The question was, did Burt know that Kurt had boys on his mind?

"I'm headin' out early, kiddo," Burt started cautiously.

"Um, yeah?" Kurt answered, leaning back against the wall and nearly falling over when he missed it the first time.

His father raised an eyebrow, but held back any comments he wanted to make about the situation. "Yeah, got a dentist appointment with Dr. Jones. You got a friend with that last name, right? Real pretty bl…African-American girl?"

Kurt smiled and shrugged. He could not have felt more awkward. Why were they talking about this now? "Um, yeah. Mercedes. She's…awesome."

"The guys are gonna close up." Burt took a step toward his son, and Kurt swallowed nervously. "You, uh…watcha doin' in here, Kurt?"

Kurt forced a laugh. A sad, high-pitched, slightly hysterical laugh. "Oooh, just tidying up a little. You're never going to find anything working like this, dad."

And with that, Kurt started straightening up the office. Perspiration prickled his skin as he felt his father watching him, judging him.

As soon as Kurt started to crack, his father mumbled, "Good deal. After that, can you organize the receipts from today? I asked the new guy to do it, but he doesn't know the place like you, so…"

Kurt sucked in a breath, and turned to face his father with a broad smile on his face. "Sure thing, dad!" he replied with maybe a little too much pep.

Burt gave him one last sideways glance before exiting.

Kurt made good on his promise to clean up the office. When he got right down to it, the place did need a little organization, and the busywork helped to calm Kurt's nerves. He started to sneak looks through the blinds again, checking to see who was still on duty in the garage, before returning to work.

The garage slowly began to empty. Kurt spied through the blinds once again to find Dave cursing softly, bent over the front of a car, the hood precariously bent above his head. His clothes and arms were dirty. He stood back for a moment to clean his face off with a towel. As Kurt watched him nod at another mechanic and watch him leave, he realized that time was ticking, and he didn't have long to make his move.

He always kept a few pairs of clean coveralls at the shop, in case he needed to help his father get home earlier. Kurt quickly peeled off his Cheerios top and placed it in his bag before pulling the coveralls over his clothing and zipping them up. He rolled the sleeves up to his elbows, messed up his hair a little, popped a mint into his mouth, and left the office.

Dave went back to work, eager to get home and take a shower. He thought he was alone until he saw one of the other guys walk up to him slowly.

"Thought you went home," Dave called at the mechanic. The other guy turned around for a few seconds, confused, before pointing at himself.

"Are you talking to me?" a sweet voice asked him. Dave nearly whacked his head on the hood of the car as he stood up way too suddenly, taking a step back to take in the picture of the boss's kid, out of that uniform for once. He wore a pair of navy coveralls, all buttoned up and ironed and nice, standing there, smiling at Dave, swaying his hips a little like he was nervous.

Dave cleared his throat. "Um, yeah, sorry. Thought you were one of the guys. Didn't mean to be…didn't mean to be rude." He looked at the floor sheepishly before looking back up at Kurt. "Your dad here?"

Kurt shook his head and took a few steps forward, drawing his finger along the edge of a table as he got closer to Dave. "No, he had to leave early. I've helped him with work since I was in middle school, though. He trusts me to get along here without him."

He watched as Kurt perched himself on a nearby work bench, swinging his legs a little, braced his arms on the table and smiling at him.

Dave looked him over, the first time he'd been this close to Kurt and just been able to look. He was…cute. He had more of a build than the standard swishy-gay kid stereotype, but that was probably just from cheerleading, right? It was…kind of hot. If he'd been in high school…

Dave shook his head and returned to work. He knew exactly what he would have done to Kurt if he'd been in high school with him.

"Your name's Kurt, right?" Dave asked him, trying to keep his voice lazy and uninterested.

Unbeknownst to Dave, Kurt took a few seconds to admire Dave's back…and other things….before answering him. "Mmm-hmm. Kurt Hummel. And you're Dave, right?"

"Yeah."

Kurt wanted to get a conversation going, something they could both talk about. Not school, obviously. Not music or movies…probably. He wanted to ask if Dave was gay, but he seriously doubted it. Even if he was straight, which he probably was, it was nice to…get attention from a guy. He knew he probably couldn't ask the Universe for more.

Kurt listened to Dave work for a few awkward minutes before he asked, "Where are you from?"

"Here," Dave grunted. He was starting to get a little nervous—why was Kurt hanging around? It flattered him to think that Kurt was trying to flirt with him. He smiled a little to himself, and decided to indulge Kurt.

"I went to McKinley High School. You're on the cheerleading team there, right? The Cheerios?"

Kurt jumped off the bench and walked up to Dave, who chose that moment to duck his head back out from under the hood, treating Kurt to the first good view of his face he'd ever been able to see. "Yeah," Kurt answered, embarrassed by how soft his voice came out just then. He felt a little intimidated by the hard look in Dave's hazel eyes, the set of his jaw, the width of his shoulders.

More than intimidated though, he felt…turned on.

Dave probably knew that he was gay—who didn't?—but there he was, pretty much right in Kurt's face, and he didn't look like he planned to take a step back or shove Kurt. He was just…looking at him.

Kurt swallowed up the awkward silence, and continued. "I'm a, uh, Junior," he told Dave, sliding his hands down into his pockets and fidgeting in a way that he hoped came off as cute. Dave continued to watch him, his mouth set in a hard line, expression blank. "You, um, did you graduate last year?"

Dave's eyes dropped to the floor. "Not exactly," he admitted. A smirk lit up his face, and his gaze darted back to Kurt, joking, a little predatory. "There's a reason that I'm working here instead of seeing the world or going to college."

"Oh," Kurt replied, a little shameful. Dave smiled and bumped his shoulder against Kurt's.

The small action had been intended like a playful punch (though punching Kurt sounded like a terrible, terrible, idea) but it made Kurt's eyes widen and his breath hitch, and suddenly Dave wasn't so sure that he hadn't just messed up majorly. He tried to see it through his boss's eyes and decided that it would have come across as a little off.

As cute as Kurt was, he did NOT want to get fired for flirting with him, or brushing up against him. If he ever wanted to work again, a decent recommendation from Hummel Sr. would be a step in the right direction.

"I, uh," Dave stumbled a bit, watching Kurt's hand slide over his shoulder where Dave had touched him, "I got into some trouble when I was your age." He frowned as that hand dropped back down. Kurt watched him carefully. He wondered if he'd scared Kurt.

To his surprised, Kurt took a fraction of a step towards him and smiled shyly. "What…what kind of trouble?" Kurt asked softly.

Dave wasn't sure how to answer that, and Kurt must have seen just how uncomfortable he was, because he put his hands up and said, "Um, never mind, it's okay, you don't need to tell me. I might do something stupid and tell my dad, after all."

Dave laughed. "Well, that wasn't the first thing on my mind, but yeah, that would kind of blow for me. It, uh…" he tried, looking over Kurt, wondering how much he could tell him.

A thought dawned on him. "Why are you still here? Shouldn't you like, go home?"

Kurt looked away, annoyed. "If you don't want to talk to me, that's fine, but you don't need to be rude about it."

With that, he turned on his heel and left.

Kurt glared at his lunch. His friends were all wrapped up in conversations, and he would have been interested a few days ago, but ever since he'd met Dave, he was all that Kurt could think about.

It wasn't just that he was hot…well, that was a big part. But he also knew that Dave was a few years older, and had gotten into some kind of trouble, and even if he wasn't gay he didn't seem angry that Kurt wanted to flirt with him.

He wondered if Dave had ever had sex but, of course he had. His gaze fell on Santana Lopez and her giant augmented breasts and Kurt could just see the mechanic in a shower with Santana, groping her and—

His head hit the lunch table with a thud.

Kurt's idiot of a stepbrother was at his side in no time. "Kurt, man, are you okay?" Finn asked, putting one huge, awkward hand on Kurt's back.

"I'm going to die a virgin," Kurt moaned back.

Finn blinked at him. "…cool?"

Kurt sat up a little, eyeing Finn. Finn was a guy. Finn could speak Guy. Finn, he thought with an angry snort, could probably talk to a guy like Dave without being asked "Why are you here?" or "Where are your parents?"

"Finn," Kurt began carefully. He studied Finn's face, taking a (very small) gamble on Finn's intelligence. "Statistically speaking, gay men who fail to lose their virginity by their eighteenth birthday have a 78% chance of losing it while intoxicated, drugged, and with a partner who has AIDS."

Finn's eyebrows nearly shot up to his hairline. He jumped up from his seat, and Kurt twisted to follow him. "Dude! What….that's not cool! I don't want you to do drugs!"

Taken aback a bit by the part of that horrible lie that Finn's simple, simple brain had tried to focus on, Kurt shook his head a little and said, rather mournfully, "But…but Finn, I'm practically seventeen, and…there's this guy, but I don't even know if he's gay…"

"Do you need me to find out?" Finn asked. He sat down and grabbed Kurt's hands. "Do I need to go undercover gay for you?"

Yes. Yes, this plan would work.

Kurt watched from his hiding place outside the shop as Finn awkwardly approached Dave.

"Sup," Finn greeted him.

"Hey," Dave replied.

Kurt laughed. This was going to be awesome. He ran back to his Navigator to enjoy a little A/C as his brilliant plan was launched into action.

About twenty minutes later, Finn got into the passenger's seat and closed the door behind him. Kurt watched as he buckled his seat belt, waiting for the news.

"And?" Kurt asked, unable to wait for Finn to tell him.

"He sort of told me to go fuck myself," Finn replied, like this happened every day. "Hey, can we go to Sonic?"

Kurt slumped against the steering wheel.

"You're not going to start doing crack now, are you?"

Dave fumed a little. Who the hell was that random guy, and why had he asked Dave if he was into Lady Gaga?

It was another late night. The shop was empty save for Dave, Mr. Hummel, and Kurt.

Dave stole another glance at Kurt. Kurt had changed into his coveralls again, and decided that he was not going to go home until every last inch of the shop was spotless. Some of the guys had laughed at him, watching him clean up and intentionally trying to make the place a mess for him, but…there he was.

Dave wanted to talk to him again, but with the boss in his office, and the fact that this just was not a good idea, how could he?

He had to admit, on that first night when Kurt had come over and started to talk to him, he'd felt a little uncomfortable. Kurt's motives were…questionable. No, screw that, he just didn't know what the kid was thinking. Maybe he wanted a friend.

There was, of course, a small chance that Kurt had wanted to talk to him as a guy, but…it wasn't like he'd been obvious with Kurt.

Granted, the way he stared at Kurt's ass every time he turned around was pretty obvious. He had a feeling that Kurt wouldn't appreciate that, but it was kind of hard not to stare. Or to want to touch.

Dave chewed on the inside of his cheek. What crap would he have pulled on Kurt back in school?

Kurt kept showing up, but he didn't talk to Dave. Instead, Dave was treated to what started to feel like soft-core pornography as Kurt arrived at the shop each day, either wearing his Cheerios uniform, or skinny jeans and form-fitting tops.

On some days, he just dropped in to talk to his father, or to bring him dinner. Sometimes, he'd change out and help around the shop. The first time Dave saw Kurt go under the hood of a car, he'd excused himself for a few minutes to calm down. Sure, he worked on cars on a daily basis, so he didn't think that he had much of a mechanic kink, but there was something special and sexy about seeing Kurt do it.

One of the other mechanics seemed to think so, and snuck up behind Kurt, air-humping him without touching him. When some of the guys started laughing, Kurt looked up, bewildered, in time for the guy to walk away like nothing had happened.

Dave stood frozen, staring at Kurt, and he could tell that Kurt knew something had happened, even if he didn't know what it was. Wordlessly, Kurt walked away from the car and out the door of the shop.

The guy who'd air-humped Kurt burst into laughter as soon as Kurt was out the door, followed by the rest of the guys in the shop. Burt exited his office, looking around and wondering what the fuss was all about. When he shrugged and went back in, Dave shook his head and followed Kurt outside.

He was sitting on the curbs, with his legs drawn up to his chest and his face buried in his knees. Dave approached him quietly, circling around to the front to try not to startle him.

"Hey," he said quietly.

Kurt looked up, squinting in the dim light, and when he made out Dave's face he looked away in shame.

"Nothing changes after high school, does it?" he asked. His voice sounded hollow.

Dave dropped to the curb next to him. He rested his hand on Kurt's shoulder, letting his fingers touch Kurt's back. Kurt seemed hyper-aware of the touch, a little surprised, a little curious, but Dave kept his hand right there.

"I mean," Kurt continued, angrily, "is that…just some lie?" He dropped his legs a little, and for the life of him, Dave couldn't figure out how those shitheads could look and Kurt and think he was supposed to be a joke. He was…just so far out of Dave's league. So far out of all of their leagues.

"You want me to be honest?" Dave asked, his voice low and soft.

Kurt glanced away for a moment, and nodded. He scooted a little closer to Dave.

"Fuck those guys," Dave replied. Kurt was a little taken aback by the answer, but Dave continued. "They don't get you, and they don't know you, so fuck them. Just…fuck any guy who makes fun of you. I mean, not literally, but yeah," he added, cracking a small smile.

Kurt rolled his eyes, drawing his legs back up. Dave pulled his hand away from Kurt's shoulder, setting it on his own thigh instead.

"How can you say that?" Kurt asked him in a tiny voice. He turned to look Dave in the eyes, and Dave knew that Kurt was looking for bullshit in his reply. "What do you know?" he added, just above a whisper, letting his eyes drop up to the ground, then come back up to Dave.

Dave took a deep breath.

"I mean, you're gay, right?" Dave asked him.

Kurt nodded, wiping away a few tears as they welled up in his eyes.

Dave edged forward, looked Kurt straight in the eye, and said, "Me, too."

He'd thought about talking to Kurt like this for a while. He'd been with guys, but it was always just sex, and sometimes he hadn't asked for it or even wanted it, but kind of gone along. It hurt to be gay and alone, and the guys he'd known that had been like him, really weren't the talking kind. Most of the guys he'd been with didn't even think of themselves as gay…they just fucked guys, and that was that.

Dave hadn't said it aloud in a long time, but God, had he wanted to say it to Kurt. If it would keep him coming around…he was so pathetic, but yeah, yeah he wanted to see more of Kurt.

"You're gay?" Kurt asked him softly. He searched Dave's face, looking for a joke, for a lie, for this to be a cruel prank.

Dave smiled and nodded. When Kurt's face lit up, Dave knew he was done for, and he hid his face behind his hands for a moment before turning serious.

"Kurt, you can't tell anyone I work with, okay? I mean…I'm not saying that you can't tell your dad, but…"

Kurt nodded enthusiastically, all too happy to get to keep a secret, and Dave wondered if this wasn't a horrible, horrible idea. "I swear to—well, I swear that I will not tell anyone. Except maybe my dad. Are you single, by any chance?" Kurt spat out at lightning speed.

When Kurt all but sprinted back into the shop, Dave turned and watched him smile over his shoulder. Dave raised an eyebrow watching Kurt sway his hips a little too much for Dave's benefit.

Dave was fucked.

Kurt showed up every day for the next week. He always made a point of saying hello to his father, and ignoring the other men at the shop, but it was clear that his real reason for visiting was to see Dave.

He brought him an iced drink from the Lima Bean a few times, dropping it off like it was nothing, so that no one would notice it came from Kurt. Dave drank them every time, knowing that he was accepting Kurt's advances by doing so but finding less and less of a reason to care.

Kurt never stayed long, unless his father was on the floor, which gave Dave a lot of time to work and contemplate just what in the hell he was doing with Kurt. If Kurt didn't have a boyfriend—and it was pretty clear that was the case—and if he and Kurt didn't hook up, then it was just harmless fun, right?

And then, Kurt came at night again.

It was about two weeks after their talk outside the shop. Kurt seemed to have memorized their work schedules, because when he caught Dave that night, he was the last one in the shop with explicit orders to clean up and lock up.

Kurt walked in quietly, eyeing Dave as he slowly made his way over with a little smile on his face. Dave pretended to work as Kurt walked over to him, but he knew it would be pointless, so he closed the hood of the car and turned to face Kurt.

"Nice night, huh?" he asked casually. His eyes followed Kurt's hips as he walked right up to Dave.

"I'll say," Kurt replied.

Dave let his eyes flicker around the shop before he asked, "What are you doing here, Kurt?"

Kurt swallowed. His eyes narrowed a little before he clucked his tongue at Dave. "I thought it was…pretty obvious. I mean, unless you don't…unless I'm not…"

Kurt lowered his eyes, and for a moment Dave thought he was going to have to comfort Kurt. He was proven quite wrong when he realized that Kurt had dropped his gaze so that he could unwind the scarf from around his neck, which he dropped onto the hood of the car Dave had been working on. He started to work on his sweater when Dave put his hands on Kurt's shoulders.

"You have no idea what you're doing," Dave told him sternly.

Kurt looked back up at Dave, shocked and angry to see that the look Dave was giving him was a look his father had given him before. "Oh, I think I know," Kurt insisted, placed his hands over Dave's and pulled them down his chest.

"Kurt," Dave said warningly. He pulled his hands back and settled them at Kurt's waist, which in hindsight was a big mistake. He couldn't get over how small Kurt was, how easy it would be to tip him off balance and pull him against his own body.

But he knew better.

"I'm too old for you," Dave told him. "And even if I wasn't…seriously, what are you doing, going around and throwing yourself at a guy like me for?"

Kurt narrowed his eyes again, resting his hands on Dave's biceps. "You're eighteen, right? And I'm sixteen. And we're both gay. I really don't see the problem here." Although he stood his ground, he stopped trying to advance on Dave.

"What would your dad think?"

"I don't care what my Dad would think about who I date."

"Well, I do—and this isn't dating."

Kurt stepped forward, pressing his chest against Dave's. "Then take me out," he challenged.

When Dave started to shake his head, Kurt told him, "It doesn't have to be in Lima. We can go outside of the city!" When that didn't seem to be enough for Dave, he added, "I already told my dad I was going to be at a friend's house tonight. He knows I'm not coming home."

Dave took his hands off of Kurt altogether and threw them in the air. "You're kidding, right? You expect me to just take your ass out of the city, and—and what?"

Kurt flushed at Dave's choice of words, just as Dave realized what he had unfortunately, and unintentionally, said. Dave lowered his eyes and whispered, "That's not what I meant."

"It's…okay if it was." Kurt tried.

Dave looked him over. A nice blush had settled over Kurt's skin. His pupils were so wide that Dave could barely make out his eye color. He was breathing so hard…he wanted this so badly that it broke Dave's heart.

He met Kurt's eyes with a hard glare. "Get out of here before I tell your father," he growled at Kurt.

He could only handle the look of betrayal in Kurt's eyes for a few seconds before he dropped his gaze to the floor. Kurt shouted at him and left the shop, slamming the door behind him.

Dave was on his way home when Burt Hummel called him.

"Hello?"

"You closed up the shop, right?"

"Yes, sir."

"Did Kurt come by?"

Dave froze, then shook his head at himself. He hadn't done anything wrong. Nothing had happened. There was no reason to hide anything from his boss…right?

"Yes, sir. For a few minutes. Then he left."

Burt sighed on his end, and was about to hang up when Dave asked him, "Why? Is something wrong, sir?"

"Yeah, he…he told me he was going to a friend's house, but I called and he never showed up. He won't answer his cell phone, either. I just…I'm about to start calling hospitals. It's not safe for a kid like him to be out at night."

Dave took a few breaths. Kurt was MIA. It was getting dark, and there was no telling what could happen to Kurt if he was out on his own.

"I'll drive around a while, and see if he turns up anywhere," Dave told his boss.

After a few seconds of silence, Burt said, "Thanks, kid," and hung up.

Dave had his own places back in high school. There used to be a Bennigan's that all the guys hung out at. The mall, to a lesser extent. The park, to play a game of dirty football or ultimate Frisbee. Later, when things had started to go bad, there were bars that he got into using a fake idea, and motels, a chop shop, street corners and benches. The hospital.

He didn't know what Kurt's places were. It was hard enough trying to put himself in Kurt's shoes. Kurt was kind of spoiled. His dad cared a lot about him, and accepted him. He probably wasn't running away from home, he was…

He rubbed a hand over his face, going over his last words to Kurt.

Get out of here before I tell your father.

If Kurt was just trying to do what he'd told him…couldn't Dave have put that a little better? Told him to go home? Told him to get a boyfriend his own age? Not just, get out of here, get out of my sight, go away?

If anything happened to Kurt…

He tried a few places that made sense. The mall was closed, but he circled around it anyway. Kurt's Escalade wasn't at the high school.

He wished he'd talked to Kurt more, had a better chance of understanding him. Instead, he'd stared at his ass and told him to go screw himself when Kurt had tried to do something about it.

Kurt just wanted to hook up with another gay guy, right? And Dave had led him on, let him think something could happen.

Wait. If a gay guy was what Kurt was after, Dave knew exactly where to go.

Somewhere in Time.

Dave had never been there, but he'd driven past it. It was Lima's one gay bar, and honestly it wasn't much of a gay bar, but outside of a rubber bracelet party or whatever the kids were doing these days it was Dave's best bet for finding Kurt.

He snagged a parking spot and all but threw himself out of his car, slamming the door behind him. He hadn't realized until just then how angry he was at Kurt.

How much Kurt had made him worry.

Dave rounded the front of the building to find Kurt sitting at one of the outdoor tables, talking to a group of kids who looked like they were in college. He kept up with their conversations, tilting his head back and laughing and flirting with the guy sitting next to him.

Dave decided to hang back and watch for a few minutes. He noticed that the guy on Kurt's other side kept touching Kurt's knee when he talked to him, and whether it meant anything to that guy or not, he was damn sure it must have meant something to Kurt.

Suddenly, one of them spotted him and shouted, "What're you looking at, homophobe?"

The table erupted in laughter as all of the guys sitting at it turned to face Dave. Kurt was the last to turn.

As soon as Dave caught sight of those confused green-blue eyes, he snarled, "Kurt, get up, I'm taking you home."

Kurt looked startled, and then angry. "Did you change your mind?" he shot back, ignoring questioning looks from the other guys at the table.

Without thinking, Dave replied, "Yeah." The thirty seconds it took to get Kurt to come to his truck were an angry blur, but by the time they reached it he had an arm over Kurt's shoulder and, if anything, he was angrier than before.

Before Kurt could make a smart-ass remark or give him a hurtful look, Dave pushed him against the passengers' side door and placed his palms on the glass on either side of Kurt's head. He drank in the bewildered look on Kurt's face for a moment before asking,

"What the fuck were you thinking?"

Kurt stole a glance at Dave's lips and Dave almost kissed him, just to throw him off-balance, just to show him that he had power in that situation, to make him feel a fraction of the worry Dave had felt, that his father had felt. He held back. Kurt wasn't getting off that easy.

Kurt's eyes went hard all of a sudden, and he tried to push himself away from Dave. Dave held him against the car, grabbing his wrists and pinning his arms to his body. More than protecting himself from Kurt, he wanted to make sure he wasn't going to try to run away. It had been hell enough tracking him down once that night.

"Screw you!" Kurt shouted at him. "You don't know anything! God damn it, you were lying, weren't you? You didn't change your mind! You're a liar!" He kept pushing, twisting, and turning, and against his better judgment Dave pushed him against the car again, harder his time.

Kurt's eyes widened as Dave brought his face right up to Kurt's. "What do you want, huh? You want me to fuck you?"

"Yeah," Kurt breathed. He was full-on staring at David's mouth, barely able to tear his eyes away long enough to look Dave in the eye, to let him know he was hearing what Dave was saying.

Dave arched an eyebrow. "Yeah? So if I just bend you over the center console and shove my dick in your ass, you'd like that? That's what you want?" He pulled his hands off of Kurt and placed them back on the glass on either side of Kurt's head, bringing his body even closer, crowding his space.

As much as he was trying to scare Kurt, he was getting a little turned on, too. He didn't know if that would entice Kurt or freak him out more and he really wasn't thinking clearly enough to care.

Kurt tried to back away, his head falling against the glass. "Is that…is that what it's like?" he asked quietly.

"You don't know, do you?" Dave replied, low and even.

Kurt closed his eyes and turned away, and Dave felt sorry for him. He didn't have much of a chance at normal teenage romance, not unless there were other gay guys at his school who were out. Even then…he had no idea, no blueprint of what to do.

"Can you kiss me?" Kurt asked quietly. He slowly turned back to face Dave, keeping eye contact, blinking slowly as he waited for an answer.

Dave studied Kurt's face. He wasn't trying to flirt with him anymore. He wasn't mad. He wasn't desperate. He just looked sad, mourning his own youth and his inability to enjoy it.

Dave leaned in slowly and pressed his lips to Kurt's.

He felt Kurt's eyelashes flutter against his face, and pulled away to inspect for damage. Kurt stared back at him like he was the answer the question he'd been asking his whole life, the one little variable it took for everything to make sense, and when Kurt tried to gather his thoughts, to say something, Dave just dove right back in.

He'd never been able to properly enjoy kissing before. Some of the guys he'd been with didn't like it, either because it made sex too romantic, or because they thought Dave was just a quick fuck. One of the guys Dave had been with that straight-out told him that he didn't make out with fatasses.

Kurt was sweet. His lips were soft and yielding, so inexperienced that it was a total turn-on. His fingers brushed Dave's arms and rested on his shoulders, pulling him closer as Kurt pushed himself off of the car.

Dave groaned a little when Kurt's fingers touched the back of his neck, and he felt pressure on his lips and oh God, Kurt was kissing back. He threaded his fingers through Kurt's hair and pulled back just longer enough to pepper kisses all over Kurt's mouth, grabbing his waist with his other hand, unable to let go.

Kurt pulled away, struggling to catch his breath, and when he saw that Dave looked just as lost as he did, just as scared, he asked, "Can we keep going?"

At that simple question, Dave burst into laughter, tumbling into Kurt and pressing kisses to his cheek and jaw and neck. He heard Kurt's breath hitch and murmured an apology into his ear.

"What for?" Kurt asked. He looked like a mess, David realized. It was beautiful.

"Going too far," Dave said quietly. "If your dad kills me, I'm not even sure if he'd have to report it to the cops."

"Dad thinks I'm at a friend's house," Kurt replied, taking in little gasps of breath as he tried to calm down.

Dave chuckled darkly. "You might be grounded forever. He knows you're out. He called me and asked if I'd seen you." He sealed this little confession with another kiss to Kurt's neck, jumping back when he heard Kurt's head hit the window in exasperation.

"Shit, shit, shit," Kurt said, closing his eyes.

Enough damage had already been done, Dave realized. This had already gone way farther than it ever should have gone. But watching Kurt freak out about getting in trouble with his dad, a terrible idea came to Dave and it just wouldn't leave.

Dave unlocked the car and whispered, "Get in," into Kurt's ear.