So, I have decided to start writing shorter one-shots so that this story will be updated more often. This (really short) drabble was based off of the newly-released yearbook photos of the Glee cast, and I let out a little gigglesnort when I saw Darren as Blaine in the grey, striped cardigan. So, this is basically Kurt's reaction. It's short, sweet, and sugar-coated with fluff, because I haven't written fluff in ages.

Disclaimer: I don't own Glee because I...I just don't.

IV. Gleekity McLink Larkin
Setting: Season 3, day two of school, after Blaine's transfer / Pairing(s): Klaine

Kurt Hummel had to admit: he was the king of fashion at William McKinley High School. Everything he wore looked amazing on him, and he knew exactly what he wanted to wear, and how to wear it. When Blaine transferred to WMHS, this gave him the opportunity to continue to look his best in order to please the un-please-able student body and his adoring boyfriend.

Blaine Anderson, unfortunately, attempted to do this himself, and to Kurt's chagrin, failed…as Finn would say, "epicly." They were by Kurt's locker when this event, which Kurt would later call "The Blaine Hairspray Train Wreck Extravaganza (TM)" occurred. Kurt was busy putting his things into his locker and applying a moisturizing cream to his face.

"Good morning, handsome."

Kurt smiled as a pair of soft, pink lips kissed his cheek, and then he turned around to face his boyfriend. "Good morning to you too, Bl—"

The big smile on his face immediately wilted.

"Blaine, what on earth are you wearing?" he asked, shocked. Kurt stared at his boyfriend; his eyes bulging and mouth agape. Said boyfriend, Blaine Anderson, stood before him with a confused look on his face.

"What? I'm wearing normal clothes."

"Blaine, those clothes were normal in the fifties."

Blaine Anderson, did, indeed, look as if he came out of a bad performance of Welcome To The Sixties from Hairspray. He was wearing lightly checkered, grey high-water pants, a white, buttoned-down shirt, black bowtie, and a striped, grey and white cardigan. His hair was, as always, gelled to the point that his hair looked like brick, and he carried a dark messenger bag. The thing, however, that irritated Kurt the most were his black loafers.

"But I saw this in a men's fashion magazine," Blaine frowned. Kurt took his hand and led him to the boys' bathroom, not forgetting to slam his locker shut. The two boys stood in front of a mirror.

"Blaine, I love you very much, and I know this may sound a bit unnerving to you, but…what on earth are you wearing? Let me repeat that again: what are you wearing? Hon, you look like you went through your grandfather's closet. Not that it's a bad thing, I mean, it's very cute, but—"

"—This is all I have," Blaine blinked, still perplexed. "I told you, I read a magazine. I can show you the issue; I have it in my bag!" he said brightly, opening his bag and taking out an old issue of GQ.

"Honey, this was from years ago." Kurt snorted, trying to suppress his laughter.

Blaine groaned and leaned on the sink, blushing furiously. "Shit, well, ugh. I'm so stupid," he whimpered. "Oh, god, I don't know how I'm going to survive this school year. I was cooped up in that Dalton blazer for far too long. I guess I forgot how to…uhm…dress."

Kurt rubbed his back. "How about…I take you shopping after school?"

"Please do. I was wondering why those hockey guys were snickering at me this morning."

Later that day, on his way to Glee Club, Kurt poked his head over the sea of students roaming about the hallways, looking for Blaine everywhere. Oh no, where is he? Kurt thought to himself, panicking. This is only his second day, and he was supposed to meet me here and—

He heard a loud splash behind him, and someone shout "Haha, welcome to McKinley, Gleekity McLink Larkin!" Kurt spun around, and saw a slushie-covered Blaine standing in the middle of the hallway, eyes shut, and spitting out whatever slushie got into his mouth.

"Oh, god, it's like being bitch-slapped by an iceberg," Blaine said furiously. Kurt sighed deeply and guided Blaine towards the men's room again.

"Don't have butt-sex in there, lady boys!" they heard one of the hockey boys shout from the top of the stairs.

"Well, fuck you!" Kurt shouted back. They went into the bathroom and Kurt helped Blaine clean up.

"Why the hell do they do this to you guys?" Blaine spluttered as he splashed water on his face. Kurt pulled a towel out of his bag and helped his boyfriend wipe his face off.

"Welcome to the wonderful world of public school, Blaine Warbler," Kurt laughed. Blaine smiled, but his eye stung, and he winced. "Yuck, you got slushied with blueberry. That's the worst. When it gets in your eyes, it takes forever to get the corn syrup out."

"Yeah, I can tell. We really need to go on this shopping trip. I don't think I'll be able to stand another person calling me 'Gleekity McLink Larkin'."

"But Link Larkin was the hottest guy in Baltimore," Kurt said adamantly, winking. Blaine pressed a kiss to Kurt's lips. "It's true, though."

"So, you are implying that I am, as you so duly noted, 'hot.'"

"Don't let it go to your head," Kurt laughed. "Hey, all of your gel is out!"

Blaine stared in horror at the mirror as his loose, damp curls stuck out all over the place. "Oh no," he moaned.

"I think I have an extra set of jeans and a shirt you can borrow," Kurt nodded, appraising his boyfriend. "It will look good with your curls, and they're your size because I knew this would happen." Blaine gave him a sly look and gave him a chaste kiss on the cheek.

"Thank you, Kurt. Did you know that I love you?"

"Of course," Kurt replied slyly. "Come on, Link Larkin, let's get you dressed."

Author's Note: Whee, please leave a review! I love reviews. You know how makeovers are like crack to Kurt? Well, they are like crack to me. Just kidding, I love reviews. If you want to leave one, go ahead! I'd love it.

If you want the one-shots to be longer, let me know! Pardon the super-cheese of this one. I wrote it in ten minutes. Because I was bored. And reading Hamlet. Even though I do love Hamlet.

Love,
Sam