Before he'd left work for the day, Kurt had slipped the cell phone into his pocket, and when he arrived back at his apartment and sat down to eat a bowl of cereal, it went off again, buzzing atop the marble kitchen counter. There was no name displayed on the screen this time, just a number, so he pressed the answer icon and lifted it to his ear.
"Hello?"
"Mr. Hummel, this is Regal Limousines, and we're calling to confirm your limo for tonight at 8 PM."
"Yes!" he shrieked but then composed himself. "I mean, yes, I'll be taking the limo," Kurt said, excitement bubbling up in him, unable to believe those words were leaving his mouth.
"Thank you, Mr. Hummel. We will see you tonight and hope you enjoy the rest of your day."
The line disconnected, and Kurt set the phone on the counter. Being an adult was awesome. If he was going to the party in a limo, then it must be fancy, and he would definitely need to make sure he looked the part. He was unsure what kind of clothing he owned or would find, but he went to the bedroom in search of the closet.
The apartment was too quiet, so Kurt turned on the television in the bedroom and scrolled through the guide until he found music channels. He pressed 'OK' on one titled "Biggest Hits of the 2000s," and there on his screen was his favorite diva looking as spectacular as ever: Beyoncé. He'd never seen her look so fierce, and he drew closer to the screen, watching in awe as she worked it. With only a few hours to prepare, Kurt finally turned away in search of his wardrobe, leaving the music on for background noise.
Had he known that he'd been sitting on a treasure trove like some terrific dragon, Kurt would have never left the apartment this morning. Hanging on a mystery door was a bag with the Givenchy logo on it like an 'X' marking the spot on a treasure map, and when Kurt opened that door, his glorious discovery was an enormous walk-in closet, every shelf and rack full, floor to ceiling, wall to wall.
He was Ariel, elated, spinning circles around her cavern: Kurt Hummel had everything. He ran his hands across and fingers through Chanel, McQueen, Marc Jacobs, Vivienne Westwood, Versace, Gucci, and more. But, unlike Ariel, he didn't want to be anywhere else. He was part of the fashion world. He didn't need to dream about it anymore.
The shoes were a teenage Kurt's wet dream, and there was an entire wall filled with shelves of them. Boots of all lengths and styles, leather dress shoes, boat shoes, moccasins, wingtips, sneakers, hi-tops, and types he wasn't even sure what to call.
Kurt pulled on and took off garment after garment, admiring how each one fit his tall, slender adult frame so nicely. He took notice of how the patterns either went together or clashed and tested the way the colors coordinated, until he finally settled on an outfit he thought was perfect and stylish and worthy of a Vogue party. He felt like a model and never could have imagined that puberty would treat him so kindly.
His hair was his next concern, so Kurt ventured into the bathroom. Sitting on the counter was an assortment of various skincare and hair products, all foreign to Kurt. What was all this gunk? He'd never seen so many little bottles, tubes, or mini tubs of creams, oils, and powders, and he scrunched up his face at them. More and more, he was finding his adult self to be quite strange and decided he wouldn't touch the stuff.
Recognizing a container of pomade and a can of hairspray, Kurt grabbed the comb off the sink and went to work. He thought back to a style he had seen in a magazine once on a male model, and he did his best to recreate the look with his own hair. Even if he hadn't been very successful, he at least managed to style his hair up in the front to get it out of his eyes.
Perhaps the time spent in the bathroom with his hair waswasted, because when Kurt discovered his hoard of accessories, he chose what he believed to be the perfect finishing touch for his outfit: a hat. Once it was on his head and he'd adjusted it so it sat just right, he checked the time and then made his way down to the lobby to impatiently await his limousine, his own golden carriage that would carry him to another part of his life that was nothing short of pure fairytale.
-s-
Once he was inside the marvelous hotel and was directed into the ballroom, Kurt scanned the crowd until he spotted Quinn over by the bar. He practically glided over to her, arms open and grinning as he greeted her.
"Hi, Quinn!"
She turned around, and nearly spit out her drink. "Um, hello, Kurt." Quinn's eyes ran the length of his body before they fixed on his head, or what was on top of his head, actually.
"Can I get anything for you, sir?" a server asked as he made his rounds of the ballroom.
"Oh!" Kurt had to think about it for a second. "I'll take a strawberry daiquiri," he said. "Not virgin," he added with a wink. The man simply nodded and walked behind the bar.
"Kurt! Quinn!" Isabelle came seemingly out of nowhere and threw her arms around Quinn. "Don't you look like a delicious orange-raspberry sherbet in Kate Spade, darling. I could eat you up!"
Then Isabelle turned toward Kurt, grabbing his arms to look him up and down. She scrutinized him for a long moment, taking in his Dr. Martens, black skinny pant, white straight-jacket complete with keys, black dress shirt underneath, his leather, fingerless gloves, and then the black top hat upon his head. Kurt began to grow nervous, but then she smiled and finally spoke. "Very retro punk, yet classic gentleman. You've been coming up with some very interesting combinations lately, Kurt. You look fabulous!"
Quinn rolled her eyes and began to take large, successive gulps of her drink.
"I hope you make some good connections tonight, and impress some people. I'll catch up with you two later." Isabelle stepped away, and Kurt turned back toward Quinn.
"This is going to be so much fun, Quinn! We can dance together like back in high school and drink...legally," Kurt said.
"Sure, Kurt," she responded, her eyes traveling to another point in the room. Kurt soon realized that something was distracting Quinn, making her glum, and he didn't want her bad mood to ruin his evening. So, as soon as he was handed the drink he'd ordered, Kurt wandered off on his own.
The DJ was playing something that no one seemed to care for, and, much to Kurt's dismay, the dance floor was empty. The guests were gathered in small clusters along the perimeter, sipping drinks and engaging in quiet conversation.
After the daiquiri, Kurt had another drink, and then another, losing track as the evening progressed, and he began to feel very loopy, a feeling he could only equate to the one time he and Blaine had stayed up all night until the sun rose, his body simultaneously both heavy and light. And everything was hilarious. But then he felt like he was swimming underwater, unsteady on his feet, as he made his way through the guests and back over to Quinn who hadn't strayed far from the bar.
"Are you having fun? I am. I met this woman -" he giggled, "with a bird on her head. And then I saw two people kissing by the bathrooms." His giggling fit went on until he stopped to catch his breath. Quinn was still paying him no mind. Then Kurt looked around, noticing the dwindling crowd. "Why is everyone leaving?"
"This party is lame, Kurt. It's a total flop," Quinn said. "If there wasn't an open bar, everyone would have left by now."
"It's probably because this music sucks," he said bluntly and quite loudly.
"If you have a better idea of what constitutes good dance music, then by all means, go request something," Quinn said, waving her hand toward the DJ's booth.
"Maybe I will," Kurt said, and then he turned around and drunkenly plodded across the room and over to the man with the laptop. When Kurt approached the table, the man took his headphones off.
"Can I help you?" he asked.
"Yes. You can stop putting people to sleep and play something we can dance to," Kurt said.
"Like...?"
"Well, how about a little something by the Queen B herself."
The DJ narrowed his eyes but then nodded as if he understood, immediately moving to his computer to type and click around a bit. Kurt turned away to face the room as the current song faded out, and then the beat and opening chorus of the next began to pump through the speakers. Recognition flashed across his face. It was the song from the music video he'd seen earlier.
"All the single ladies..."
The guests began to stir and react to the sudden shift in the music and atmosphere, and soon all eyes were on Kurt who was stepping out onto the dance floor, propelled by the liquid courage he had consumed, his hips already beginning to sway in time.
"Quinn!" he called out, but she stared back at him with a horrified expression and shook her head. "Quinn! Come dance!" He waved her toward him, but she turned away and hid her head in a fresh drink.
"Don't pay him any attention..."
That's when Kurt turned and saw Blaine standing at the edge of the crowd. He couldn't believe he had actually shown up, but then he got a fresh burst of excitement because, surely, he could get Blaine, his old dance partner, to dance with him.
"Blaine, come dance with me!"
Everyone turned to see who Kurt was addressing, and Blaine looked around nervously. He stepped back, but Kurt ran forward and grabbed his hand, tugging him out onto the floor.
"I don't know this one, Kurt," Blaine said.
"Yes you do! It's Beyoncé," Kurt said. "Remember?" He pulled on Blaine's wrist again until he was by his side, and Blaine hesitantly began to step to the beat, watching Kurt and following his lead. Kurt did his best to imitate what he had seen in the video, delighted when he saw Blaine keeping up with him with a sort of ease. Now every molecule in Kurt's body was vibrating from the bass, and he felt a rush from dancing again.
Curious and amused partygoers began to laugh, chatter, sway, and tap their feet to the music. Kurt kept going, moving and acting out the lyrics, Blaine beside him, falling into step as they had done before so many years ago.
"If you liked it, then you shoulda put a ring on it..."
A few people entered the floor and joined them. People began to clap to the beat, and the crowd turned into a sea of smiling faces. Little by little, people joined the dance, and then, to Kurt's surprise and glee, Quinn set her drink down and began to dance with the group.
It was working, Kurt was really doing it, he was saving the party. But the icing on the cake was when Isabelle ran up to join Kurt at the head of the group, beaming and shaking her head like she couldn't believe it.
"You're wonderful, Kurt!" she shouted over the music. "I could kiss you!" But as she spoke, Kurt didn't notice Blaine begin to step away.
"Pull me into your arms, say I'm the one you want
If you don't, you'll be alone, and like a ghost, I'll be gone..."
He caught Blaine's departure out of the corner of his eye and tried to pull him back, but Blaine was too quick. He mouthed "I'm sorry" and then disappeared into the crowd on his way out of the building. Kurt continued to dance until the song ended, but his heart sank because he had lost Blaine once again.