A/N: So this is going to be a bunch of one-shots, each themed with a school subject. Expect Klaine :)

Art.

Kurt was lying, face down, on his bed in his new dorm room at Dalton. His head swam with all the colours he had seen in the past hour, and his fingers ached from all the tugging he'd been forced to do, straightening collars and sleeves.

It had started a few weeks ago.

There he was, the new boy, minding his own business, when one of the Warblers had mentioned something about a first date. Of course, it had been pretty tough those first few days to get involved in a conversation, but this at least he had experience with. How many times had he sat and listened in on Santana's and Britney's conversations on their love lives? He would stick an uninterested look on his face whilst eavesdropping and finding out every gory detail, from kissing technique and what they wore, to how they perceived their dates through actions and dress. He would mentally scorn the unfashionable boys who turned up to take the girls out, snorting aloud once or twice at the downright ridiculous outfits Santana described. He knew some people were misguided, but to turn up for a date in wellingtons?

But Kurt's love for makeovers, be it personal or interior design, had drooped slightly with his move to Dalton, but here was his chance to return to his calling; fashion.

Therefore, he reasoned, he was perfectly qualified to utter, "So what are you going to wear?"

A hush fell over the common room, and he started. He'd over stepped the mark. That was too feminine. He may not get harassed here, but he suspected something else must go on within Dalton's prim and proper halls. Maybe they'd steal his stuff? Or just mess up his perfectly organised wardrobe? There must be-

Then he realised the hush wasn't because they were glaring at him. They were looking at the Warbler (Brad, if Kurt remembered correctly?) with expectant gazes.

Brad twisted his mouth to the side and looked away. "I have no idea."

A light switched on in Kurt's head. A sneaky gleam in his eyes he replied, "Nothing too formal, it's only dinner and a movie. Yet, you don't want to appear so casual you haven't made any effort at all."

The poor boy stared, "Girls... they read into that?"

"Of course!" Kurt said, shocked. Other pairs of eyes began to fix on him. It seemed he had an uneducated audience in front of him.

"First impressions mean a lot. The once over look a girl will give can mark you down as sloppy, lazy, and ignorant if you dress badly." Had this many boys been so fixated on Kurt before? "Please tell me some of you had realised this?"

Heads shook.

Kurt gave a sly smile. "It's lucky you have me now then, isn't it?"

And yes, the boys were lucky to have Kurt. Brad's date had been a complete success, ("She said the jumper really brought out my eyes, and she always appreciates a boy with good shoes! She even let me-" "TMI Brad!") Word had soon spread amongst the dorms about the new boy who, given ten minutes, would ramble on about colour scheme and something called 'complimenting your skin tone'.

So with the odd date here, a meeting with the parents there, and a casual Friday tossed in, Kurt found himself a little happier with his standing as Dalton's fashionista.

That is, until now. The Senior Dinner at Dalton's sister school, St Margaret's was tonight, a Saturday night. The dress code had been set as 'casual-formal' leading to confusion amongst the older boys and mass panic. Who else could they turn to?

They began in a trickle at the start of the week, with a light knock on his door on Monday.

"Come in!" Kurt yelled, leisurely flicking through his latest Vogue, pulling out pages and piling them up on his table.

"Kurt? Hi, I'm Jack, one of Brad's friends." Kurt resisted to roll his eyes, being 'friends with Brad' had been taken as some sort of code for 'help-me-i'm-having-a-fashion-crisis!' Some things could never be changed about an private all boys school, and apparently admitting to needing help in looking good was one of them.

"Where are you going?"

The boy looked relieved he didn't have to ask Kurt outright. "My girlfriend is at the sister school, and there's this meal on Saturday for the Seniors from both schools, and the invite says casual formal. But what even is casual formal? I tried looking online but-"

"Stop right there. Bring me the invite and any shirts, smart trousers, and non-school ties you own." Kurt cut the boy off in a clipped, business-like tone.

When Jack returned a few minutes later, Kurt spent at least half an hour pouring over the invite and forcing the boy into various outfits before resorting to lending him one of his precious bow ties with a warning that, "If you get so much as a drop of drool on this, then so help me god I will crush you like a bug!"

The boy didn't seem put out that he was being threatened by a young newbie, but instead yelled his thanks all the way down the corridor.

After Jack's story got around, a few more boys arrived. These boys were prepared for maximum criticism, and began lining up in Kurt's room like soldiers on parade. By coming early, they allowed themselves enough time to go away with Kurt's advice and buy a whole new outfit. If they were lucky, they could get away with borrowing a tie or jumper from Kurt's endless wardrobe.

Then came the last minute FLOOD. He could go half an hour before a knock on his door on Thursday, but they came thick and fast every five minutes on Friday night. Wes had tried to force his way through the door at around 11pm, but upon hearing Kurt scream, "NO! There is no way on this earth you are wearing your BLAZER! If you won't take my help, then GET OUT!" he had fled back to David and Blaine, deciding his French homework wasn't that important right now.

After rushing through his moisturising routine late Friday night, he was not impressed when three seniors burst in on him at some ungodly hour, offering him money, coffee, and chocolate to tell them whether to go with the striped tie or the black bow tie.

When he had managed to shoved the last from him room he collapsed on his bed; tired, sore, and grateful for not having a roommate. How did all these seniors know about him? How had they found his room? And why were there SO MANY OF THEM!

He admitted, on some level he loved the attention, he was finally getting noticed. He finally had a use at this school; he wasn't just another voice supporting Blaine's or Rachel's. Singing was his passion, but fashion was his art.

However, there was only so much of art his soul could take. Singing too much would make your throat raw, and too much fashion made his eyes bleed.

Understandably, when someone knocked on his door half an hour later he groaned. "I don't care WHAT you try and give me; I will not let any of you wear your Dalton ties!"

"That's a shame; I thought they looked quite, what's the word, dapper? Isn't school-boy-chic making a comeback this year?" Blaine's lazy drawl made him jump.

Kurt twisted his head up to look at the boy standing in the doorway, who was, thank god, not wearing his uniform. "I don't think it's called making a comeback if you wear it constantly."

Laughing, Blaine stepped into the room, "So what about this outfit? Will this do?" He gave a mock twirl, simple loose jeans (that were tighter in just the right areas, Kurt drooled), and a grey striped shirt with a jumper over the top.

"For what?"

"For going shopping." He moved over and sat on the bed next to Kurt's feet. "Wes heard you yelling yourself hoarse last night, and I decided you need an escape from the Seniors' drap and mundane wardrobe. I was thinking maybe a trip to refresh yourself on why you actually like clothes in the first place. And apparently you've lent out most of your own stuff, so we may need to restock on some vitals." Blaine grinned, glancing over to Kurt's wardrobe. The door's were wide open and there were a few empty hangers lying on his desk.

Kurt stared at him for a little while, letting Blaine's gesture sink in, once again, he was offering Kurt and escape.

"That would be wonderful. But," He cocked one eyebrow, "you are definitely not wearing those shoes."

Next up: Life Skills. Kurt get's taught the ways of Dalton by its finest prefects ;)

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