I don't own anything, if i did.. you would know.

I'm writing this as I write Nicknames. The two are not related, it jus that the other one is so hard to write. I basicly cry after every chapter i write. But this one is to counter that. It`s my happy fic. YAYAYA

Jack was working underneath a beautiful car, and he couldn't even thoroughly enjoy it. He couldn't enjoy the classic 65' Ford Convertible and all her original parts, because it most likely belonged to a snot-nosed teen brat, who's too scared to pick up a wrench in fear that she'll break a nail.

Jack was in the middle of cleaning out a clotted gear, and he knew he should be loving her. With her smooth heavy metal… but he can't, because he was dreading when the bleach blond bitch comes to pick her up.

She'll never touch the car in the same way he was...

Okay that sounded a lot creeper then it should have.

But all Jack could do was sigh and continue to worship this beautiful piece of machinery.

The sound of a creaking monkey wrench was the only thing Jack could hear.

"What the hell are you doing to my car?" A high pitched, pissed voice boomed from over the convertible.

Jack jumped. The wrench fell out his hand and landed with a load clang on the oil stained pavement. And his head slammed on the undercarriage of the car, "Son-av-BITCH!!" Jack hollered in a heavy south drawl, pressing his palm over his forehead as he rolled out from under the car on his greasy monkey scooter.

First thing Jack saw with his double vision was a tapping foot, demanding an answer, "Well? Who the hell are you and what are you doing him ?!"

Jack was still rubbing angrily at his face, wiping away the pain. He spat at ground, "Him?"

"My car!?... What are you? A simpleton?"

Jack did what the doctor keeps telling him to do; breathe through the anger. Jack keep staring at the pavement, trying to calm himself before he punched the client, but that became impossible as they tapped their foot faster, harder...

"Hello? Bolt brains, what the fuck do you think you're doing?"

Jack shot up to his full height, coming eye level with an extremely angered Kurt.

His blue eyes were swirling as Kurt waited for his answer. Kurt's ruby looking lips pursed in a scowl, his forehead crinkled.

Jack took in the sight to be hold that was Kurt. His perfectly placed hair, the thin build, his short height, ( Which made Jack absolutely overjoyed to see was at least a inch shorter then himself.) and just his very 'sure of himself presence'.

Something about the in-raged teen seemed to calm Jack, bringing something playful out of him. Jack rested his butt on the Ford's driver side door, "I'm working. I'm fixing your car."

"Don't lean against him! " Kurt grabbed at Jack's elbow and yanked, dragging the barely taller man, away from his car but closer to him.

Jack tried not to gasp as he took in such a strong scent of vanilla and... lilacs.

Kurt didn't notice Jack's eye dilate, "You don't work here! What are you, a car pervert? Do motors grind your gears?"

Jack wasn't going to answer that honesty, "I do work here, I started today" Jack pointed at his chest, "See name tag." Jack reframed himself from sticking out his tongue…barely.

Kurt stared at the Hummel's and Son's Garage tag like it lying to him. Giving up on setting it on fire with heat vision, Kurt sighed, "Fine, you're spared because your ignorance."

Jack gave a small laugh; he pulled the brim of his ball cap, "Why do you have your car at a garage if you don't what it to be fixed?"

Kurt snapped, "Because I'm fixing it."

"You?" Jack gave Kurt a once over.

The teen had on a fancy knitted sweater that was probably made out of that expensive goat belly fabric. The sweater fell about mid thigh. The boy's legs were cover by legging. Honest to god legging! The outfit was completed with the bow tie snug against Kurt's Adam's apple.

Jack just couldn't see this lady fabulous boy getting elbow deep in engine lube.

Kurt raised his Prada duffel bag, and unzipped it pulling out a mass of dark gray cloth. A pair of well worn overalls, "I would amaze you with the things I can do with a wrench." Kurt's eyes narrowed at Jack.

Jack tried to pretend that he didn't like the threat. "I bet you could." But Jack didn't even try and hide his smirk.

Kurt gave a satisfied nod before stuffing his working cloths back in his bag, "I'm going to change, and if you touch him? I will drop a car onto your head."

Jack snapped his whole body to attention, and he saluted, "Sir, yes, Sir!"

With a smug smile and a swing of his hip, Kurt was across the garage and entered the bathroom.

Jack was holding his breath, waiting for the click of the closing door, so he could let out his eager and frustrated-as-hell groan, that was building in his throat. But it didn't happen.

The door didn't shut.

Inconspicuously, Jack made his way to a minivan that needed an oil change. Jack hated oil changes, but it was right in front of the bathroom's door.

Jack's heart started to race as he saw a bright stripe of light flood out of a crack in the doorway. Leaning over the van's hood he tried to see into the bathroom…

He could see Kurt's reflection in the bathroom mirror.

He saw Kurt's stomach as he pulled that sweat over his head, exposing white, soft -to-the-touch looking skin. Jack's mouth began to water as his eyes followed the slight inward dip of the other boy's tummy....

Jack leaned further onto the van's hood, desperate to see more. He watched Kurt bend over, most likely to take off his leggings. But when Kurt was bent over, he wasn't in the mirror. Jack nearly whimpered.

When Kurt finally snapped back into frame, Jack could only see his back... but he was mesmerized by how it moved at his pulled the overalls over his slender shoulder.

God he's so small, Jack internally groaned.

Kurt zipped up the overalls and turned on his heels.

Jack slipped of the hood and crashed to the cold floor as his heart jumped to his throat, his nerves frying his system. Fuck, Jack like a school boy again.

Kurt completely ignored Jack as he stuttered straight to his Ford, humming as he popped open the hood.

They worked in silence.

Well not silence, Kurt was humming a slowly, steady song, that seemed to swell and fill the garage with a sense of peace.

Jack would glance over as he fixed this or that, and watched as Kurt had to stand on his tip toes to reach down into engine. His ass swaying in time with the song.

Jack found it harder to focus with every swing, and dip of those hips.

When the song finished, Kurt pulled himself out from under the hood. His forearms and hands smeared with engine grease.

Abandoning his tools on his work trolley and pulling an old terry cloth rag out of his back pocket, Jack made his way to Kurt.

"That's an awfully sweet voice you got there?" Jack worked his smooth southern drawl. Letting the words just melt out.

Jack went to sit on the old ford's front bummer but was smacked dead in the chest by the mighty hand of Kurt.

"I told you not to sit on Him." Kurt had his eyebrows cocked and loaded.

Jack chuckled and stood up, wiping the car lube off his hands, "So what were you humming?" Jack offered his cleaning rag to Kurt.

Kurt huffed at it and pulled his own out, a fine satin-y looking one. Jack gave it a look and the younger teen defended, "It cleans off the oil better, and besides it easier on the hands."

Kurt expected Jack to make fun of him, but Jack just nodded before pocketing his own rag. Kurt was kind of impressed, so he indulged the young man, "It was If I were a Boy, by Beyonce."

Jack right out laughed, "But you are a boy!?" Jack poked fun by dropping down to eye level with Kurt's groin. Jack pretends to study it, rubbing at his non-existing beard, "Aren't ya?"

Laughing and smiling, Kurt pushed at Jack's shoulder.

Jack fell flat on his ass, and yeah it hurt, but he bounced right up, chuckling.

Kurt eyed him and laughed himself, "It's just a song, OK."

"And you hum it well… you sing at all? Or do you prefer to keep your mouth shut." Jack teased.

"I sing, dance, rebuild cars and have a wicked sense of fashion; I'm the embodiment of talent." Kurt tilted hid chin up, a smirk of confidence on his face.

" I bet you are.."

They ended up chatting about cars; which ones were faster… which ones had the better structure… if they could own any vehicle what would it be… if they could work on any vehicle…

They ended up leaning against Kurt's convertible, but the younger male was too into the conversation to notice.

Jack noticed and he felt kind of naughty.

God, that boy's mouth was driving him batty. How he pursed the ruby lips, how he bit into them….Jack couldn't look anyway.

The older male leaned in, began talking in a lower tone, he was going to it; he was going to kiss him!

" KURRRTT!!!" Burt's powerful voice boomed throughout the cement building.

Jack, jackknifed into a straight and upright position, "Howdy Boss."

Kurt, didn't even notice, he just casually looked over at Burt "Hi, Dad. What's up?"

Jack turned and squinted at Kurt, "Kurt… You're Kurt Hummel?" Jack laughed, trying to hide his frustration.

Burt clapped his son on the shoulder, "You remember Jack McCoy, Jimmy McCoy's boy."

Kurt just shrugged his shoulder, and stuck out his bottom lip, confused as fuck.

"He came out every summer... till…" Burt glanced at Jack and he decided against being up a painful memory. "You guys use to play all the time when you were little."

The teen boy gasped remembering; snapping his fingers, then his face fell. Kurt scowled and squinted at Jack, "You made me eat dirt."

Jack's four years older than Kurt. But that didn't stop the boys from being best friends way-back-when.

Before Kurt even went to school, he and Jack were Buddies. They were Buddies because there dad were Buddies back in college.

Jimmy and Burt played football back in their college days together. And they became great friends. But after college they moved on with their lives. Yet every summer Jimmy made it to Lima, with Jack and his wife in tow.

It was Jack that made Burt want to start having kids.

And that's where Kurt came in.

Jack and Kurt were great friends despite the age difference. They even played house together.

"I wanna to be the dad!" A seven year old Kurt stomped his high heeled foot.

"Kurt, for Christ's Sake your wearing pumps! Plus your younger-" The eleven year old Jack tried to talk with the boy.

But Kurt stomped his foot, his pointed heel giving a mighty click, "I'm the DAD!!"

"OK, OK," The older boy gave in.

Kurt flashed him a huge smile; this made Jack shake his head and laugh, just laugh.

Kurt skipped to his bedroom door, "OK I'll be coming home from work and you'll be doing dishes." Kurt's big young eyes were wide with excitement. He went out into the hall and he closed the door behind him.

Jack instantly started to mutter and complain under his breath, while he actually pretended to do the dishes.

The bedroom door swung open, Kurt still hung on to the knob, singing, "Honnney I'm home!!"

In a stage female voice, "Good evening darling, how was work today?" Jack was dying on the inside.

Kurt walked in manly manner with his chest puffed out and his elbows stuck out; he marched over to Jack and hugged him.

They were eye level with each other because of the heels.

The older of the two prepubescent boy's heart started hammering in his chest.

And in the pure spirit of marriage Kurt pecked Jack right on the lips, very, very loudly.

Jack was wide eyed, with his heart racing as he blurted out, "After we're playing monster trucks."

Kurt tapped the older boy's cheek, "Yes, dear."

Now ten years later the boys are working in the garage, falling back in to their old pace, their old habits.

Bickering back and forth. Their arguments usually ended with a mild act of violence (but no more dirt chewing, they have matured since then). It nearly always ended with either Kurt in a head lock, screaming for the welfare of his well kept hair or Jack getting hit in the back of his head by a bolt, wrench or another blunt projectile.

Despite the fights, Jack enjoyed working beside Kurt. He was so spunky, and he made Jack smile.

And that`s why he started playing the radio as they worked.

Jack usually preferred to work in silence, because he could listen to the machine. He could hear the metal work over metal.

There he goes being creepy with cars again…

Back to focusing on the music, the minute Kurt walked in to the shop Jack turned it on, and Kurt starting singing.

Jack tried following along. But Kurt told him that it was just cruel to the hearing.

Jack would smile a big toothy grin every time Kurt started to sing… dude sounded like a chick.

A pounding song started to pour out the radio, and Kurt couldn't have possibly lost more of his mind. His wholes face light up at Lady Gaga's love game.

Jack laughed as he saw Kurt strike a pose. But he shut up as some as Kurt got really into it.

Moving his hips suggestively towards Jack.

Belting the provocative lyrics towards Jack.

Kurt was writhing as he gave the most erotic expression towards Jack.

Jack was dying on the inside, his whole body growling in hunger. His blood boiling.

After Kurt completely broke out into song and dance with Love Game, where he basically preformed it for Jack. Jack couldn't help but teasing the boy as he leaned on a car (to hide his erection)

"They don't get any gayer then you."

Kurt's face dropped, his lips pursed, "If you have problem, with who I'm..."

Jack huffed in his southern accent, "I don't." The idea seemed funny to him, "It doesn't bother at me at all."

Jack brought his arms on to the top on car, his rough hands rolled over each other, "Some of my best friends are gay."

"Really?" Kurt asked his head cocking to the side.

Jack nodded about to say something when Burt walked in. Jack just stuck his tongue in his cheek, and went to back to work.

"How`s it going boys?" Burt asked with a case of beer in hand. He pulled a disgusted face at as Girlfriend blasted over the radio.

"Turn that crap off." Burt barked as he pulled out and offered a Jack a brew before dropping the case to the ground.

Burt and Jack started talking business as Kurt finished working on his Convertible for today. The hood latching into place drew both of the men's attention.

"How the car coming?" Burt asked as he tipped his bottle behind his lips.

"Good." Kurt answered meekly as he bent down to grab a bottle of his own.

Burt laughed, "Good try, boy. Put it back."

Kurt complained, "Oh, come on-"

"Those age rules are put in for a reason."

Jack felt like he had been punched in the gut.

Kurt was 17, he was was jail bait.

That hurt Jack. His heart clenched, and he took a big swig of beer. He loved Kurt he realized in at that moment. He wouldn't have been so disappointed if he was just a piece of ass.

Read me! Please.

DO you love it, hate it. You want me to stop.... Because OC suck testies? Tell me.