Blaine was pacing his room, pausing every once and a while to check his reflection in the full length mirror he'd commandeered from the dorm's common room. It was Saturday afternoon and while most Dalton boys would still be in some form of pajamas or sweat pants Blaine was dressed in black slacks and a white collared shirt. His feet were bare, but there was a black sock hanging over one shoulder. He wasn't quite sure where the other one was. Probably somewhere in the ocean of clothing on the floor.

Dalton boys didn't bring very many pieces of clothing from home. They were in their uniforms for five days a week and the weekend only really demanded one or two outfits. However Blaine had stopped off at home last weekend after he left the hospital to grab some extra, nicer stuff. It ended up being more than he anticipated, but he would have rather been safe than sorry. So instead of just a few uniforms and a pair of sweats, the shared room was a wreck of polos, jeans, slacks, dress shirts, regular t-shirts, long sleeves, jackets, a couple of ties, and a few pairs of shoes. There was a bow tie in there somewhere too but he'd lost that about a half hour ago. He suspected it was somewhere in the general area of his floor.

He stopped in front of the mirror again, biting the inside of his cheek before pulling a face and yanking the shirt over his head, tossing it on David's bed. He groaned a sigh, running a hand through his ungelled hair as his eyes went searching through the mess for… well, he wasn't quite sure. Just not that shirt. No, his outfit needed to be perfect. Classy, but not formal. Comfortable, but not sloppy. Suave, but not desperate. Of course, he didn't seem to have that anywhere in this mess. He just started to rifle through another pile when he heard the door open behind him. He didn't bother to turn and look, since there were only three people who ever entered without knocking, one of whom was in Lima at the moment.

Instead he pulled up a collared powder blue t-shirt t-shirt, looked at it, then pulled a face and threw it over his shoulder. He heard a satisfying ffffft as it landed on one of the two (since the two were always together).

"Hey!" David exclaimed. "Watch where… you're…"

The Warbler trailed off, probably as he saw the state of his room. Wes gave a low whistle. Blaine ignored them both and moved onto another pile. Jeans, jeans, t-shirt, leather jacket…

"Jeez, Blaine," Wes commented. "We know you're disorganized, but this is a little out of hand, don't you think?"

"It needs to be perfect," Blaine mumbled, grabbing a black button down shirt and holding it up to himself, turning to check how it looked in the mirror. He noticed Wes and David share knowing grins out of the corner of his eye.

"Aaaaah," David said sagely, strolling (or rather wading) through the mess and standing over Blaine's shoulder so that the curly haired boy could see both of their reflections. "This is about your date tonight, isn't it?"

Blaine just pursed his lips and tossed the shirt over his head, knowing full and well that he just used David as a clothing hanger once again. He moved away from the mirror and ran a hand through his hair, scanning the room for another pile.

"Yes, it's for my date," Blaine replied tersely, spotting a pile on his bed that he hadn't gone though in a while and clamoring towards it. He was sifting yet again, pulling shirt after shirt after slacks out of the pile and tossing them into another one at his feet.

"What's the big deal?" Wes wondered. "He's seen what you wear normally and doesn't complain too much. Why fix what isn't broken?"

At this both Blaine turned to give his friend a wide eyed stare, and he noticed that David was giving a similar look. Wes blinked, suddenly doe-eyed with a small frown. David sighed and shook his head.

"Remember what happened on your first date with Rebecca?" David reminded him. "You wore jeans and that God-awful hoodie. And she was in that short strapless dress. Remember how she refused to leave her house until you went and changed?"

"But she was a complete psycho! Even you agreed with me on that one!"

"But Jen wasn't,"Blaine added. "Neither was Molly. Both first dates were complete disasters. Which is the only one that wasn't? Your date with Victoria. Who, by the way, you're still dating. Why? Because David picked your outfit for you."

Wes' lost frown sunk into a disbelieving frown. "Seriously, guys? You think me and Vic are still together because of my outfit on our first date?"

David and Blaine glanced at each other, rolling their eyes. Seriously, Wes was a pretty smart guy. But there were things that he would just never understand. Like how important it was that Blaine looked freaking awesome on his first date. After all, the scenario within which he asked Kurt out was definitely not in the way he planned it; partially because it was just after yelling at Kurt's friends for being so Goddamn inconvenient and partially because it was while Kurt was in the hospital after a sledding accident that left him with a sore throat, black eye, and broken arm. It took Blaine all of five seconds to come to the conclusion that the date had to be perfect to make up for the not-so-perfect moment within which he asked.

Starting with his outfit.

He was just about to dive into another pile when David grabbed his arm.

"No," he commanded, pulling Blaine toward the desk chair and seating him on it (after pushing the small mound of clothes to the floor). "You sit. I will find you something."

That was the funny thing. There was the stereotype that all gay guys were automatically fashionable. But Blaine was living proof that it was a lie. He tried his best to look good, but that was easy when he was at a school with a uniform. His entire summer wardrobe was actually mostly picked out by David. He wasn't crazy chic like Kurt was, but the guy had a weird sixth sense when it came to style. Shopping with him was easy because he could just walk into a store and know what would look good. He never bothered to try anything on, but when he wore them the next day it was absolutely fine.

Blaine wasn't going to complain about his friend's talent, though. As much as he said he didn't mind helping Kurt out on his shopping days, he actually found shopping pretty boring. It was just so much work, and in the end they usually came out with one bag after four hours. But, then again, it was also a great chance for him to take long appreciative looks at the boy he's had a crush on since they'd met when he was asked how a pair of jeans looked. So, even though he didn't like the actual shopping, Blaine would never say 'no.' But only for Kurt. Everyone else could ask someone else.

"So, you know what you're doing for the date?" Wes questioned as David began to search through the piles. Blaine, who was wringing his hands in his lap, nodded.

"Yeah. We're going to dinner at that Breadstix restaurant that everyone in Lima seems to like. Then we're going to see Les Mis at the theatre. Just like I told him."

"Including the 'walking him up to the door and kissing him' part?" Wes added with a wry grin.

"Don't forget the 'asking Kurt to be his boyfriend' part," David added as he slung a pair of jeans over his arm. Blaine felt the back of his neck heat up as he grinned weakly and nodded. Most definitely that part. Actually, if truth be told, he was crazy nervous about that. Even though Kurt already said that he was probably going to say 'yes,' Blaine wasn't sure that if he was. After all, the first date was pretty crucial. He'd known from Wes' experience that the first date made or broke a potential relationship. It was just how it was. So unless he wanted to be in the awkward friend zone with Kurt for the rest of eternity then this date needed to be absolute perfection.

It didn't take long for David to scavenge something and chuck it at Blaine. He didn't even bother to look at what it was before he started to put it on. He fumbled a little (Or, rather, quite a lot) with the tie until David finally took pity on him and tied it for him. When he checked himself in the mirror, he nearly smacked himself. Of course. It was so obviously perfect that he couldn't believe he hadn't thought of it himself. David had chosen a white collared shirt and a pair of dark blue jeans. A black casual suit jacket was over top with a black tie to finish off the look. He was grinning like a moron by this point.

"David," Blaine declared, still preening himself in the mirror. "If you weren't straight and I wasn't about to go on a date then I could kiss you."

"Because that wouldn't be awkward at all," Wes remarked as he leaned against the wall near the door, his arms folded over his chest. David just shook his head, clapping Blaine on the shoulder.

"Even if I played for your team and you were single I would still slap you," David added. "You're not quite my type, Anderson."

Blaine's hand flew to his heart in mock hurt. "David! You wound me."

David laughed and settled himself in the chair Blaine had once occupied, hands folded behind his head. "You are impossible to wound, my friend. Your ego won't take it."

Blaine's playful grin suddenly vanished, his posture straightening to perfection.

"I don't have an ego," he protested uncertainly. He turned swiftly to Wes. "Do I?"

Wes just smirked and rolled his eyes before glancing at his watch. "What time are you supposed to pick up Kurt?"

Blaine's brows furrowed. "Six. Why?"

Wes showed him the watch face. "It's four now, bud."

Blaine's eyebrows shot to his hairline and a string of curses spilled from his mouth. It took two hours to get to Lima! In a flash he was out the door. Wes and David shared a small laugh.

"3…2…1…"

The door was flung open again, Blaine wildly glancing around the room. David cleared his throat and held out the pair of black converse shoes that their friend was sorely missing. With a quick thanks Blaine dashed across the room and grabbed them. He was out the door yet again in a split second. Wes rolled his eyes and David leaned back.

"Care to do the countdown this time, Wes?"

"Love to. 3…2…1…"

The door opened a third time and before Blaine could frantically search the room Wes held out his car keys with a small jingling shake, a smug grin, and a quirked brow. Blaine gave him a grateful look before the door was slammed shut.

They waited a moment after the door closed the final time before both of them flung themselves to the room's window, which over looked the parking lot. They watched their friend hurry out to his car and, after fumbling his keys and dropping them onto the pavement, hop in and pull away from the school. They grinned.

"David, make the call," Wes commanded as he pushed away from the window, examining the disaster zone.

David scowled, turning around and leaning on the wall. "Since when I'm I your henchman?" He demanded. Wes didn't bother looking at his friend as he grinned.

"Because I'm older than you. Nicknames say so."

"So? That doesn't—"

"Oh, just call him, will you?" Wes groaned dramatically, turning around and folding his arms over his chest. "I left my phone in my room."

David rolled his eyes, grumbling something about Wes "doing that on purpose" as he pulled out his phone and dialed the newest contact in the cell. As he waited for them to pick up Wes started to pick his way through the room, trying to find his way back to the door. Finally someone picked up. Before they could say anything, David jumped in.

"Boba Fett to Darth Sidious. Han has left Corellia in the Falcon. En route to the Death Star. T-minus two hours. Over."

"Darth Sidious to the Fetts. At least you followed orders this time. Over and out."

David ended the call and shoved it in his back pocket. "Well," he said, "Looks like our part's over."

They both paused and looked at the room. Even though the tornado had left, his disaster didn't leave with him. They looked up at each other and sighed.

"Alright," David corrected, shoving a stray pair of jeans with his toe. "Maybe not quite over. I still need to be able to live in here."

Wes growled, grabbing at the shirt and tie that were slung over the doorknob, grumbling something about "showing that boy how to use a coat hanger." David silently agreed, rolling his eyes. This movement made something catch his eye on the ceiling, however. His mouth gaped open slightly and his brow furrowed.

"Seriously, Blaine? How the hell did you manage to get a bow tie stuck up in the ceiling fan?"