Kurt never got to attend any dances while he was in high school. He never got to dress up to the nines, hang on the arm of a handsome, debonair gentleman, and be proudly shown off to his family and friends while they embarrassed him and took way too many pictures, most of which would turn out to be unflattering. It was probably one of the reasons he took his wedding so seriously, why he went all out and made sure that it was every bit as special as any fantasy he ever had about romance and dancing and falling in love. He was like Cinderella finally getting to go to the ball after her invitation was lost in the mail several times, and Blaine was his perfect Prince Charming, with whom he was glad the celebration didn't end at midnight. And never would.

No, Kurt didn't experience his teenage years like any normal boy was meant to, how the films, books, and television shows promised him it would be like. Because he wasn't normal, didn't fit any mold or live up to the ideals of others. But he was okay with that. Because, even though life took him for a bumpy ride and wrecked him somewhere along the way, Kurt felt like a much better and stronger person for it. He felt as if he truly understood just how valuable life was and the value of having people around him who loved and supported him with whom he could share it.

So when he saw the models for this particular challenge enter the workroom to meet his mentees, all young, wide-eyed high school girls preparing to attend their winter formal, wanting every bit as much a part of the fantasy and the magic as he had wanted, Kurt knew that he couldn't possibly allow his team to let them down. They were underprivileged girls from towns all over the state, chosen especially to have custom gowns made for their big nights, so they could feel normal, proud, and beautiful, and Kurt wanted them to have all that and more. He wished he could personally dress all of them, and it was killing him that he had to once again stand back and be not much more than a cheerleader.

Kurt was acutely aware that his guidance would be crucial today due to the nature of this challenge. It would be doubly challenging for his mentees to not only design for a nontraditional model but to design for a client, the age of whom made it even trickier.

"I really like your bag."

Kurt wasn't sure of the source of the compliment at first, and he pivoted around, searching.

"Marc Jacobs, right?" Marco said. "It really is a nice messenger bag. I bet it's durable, too."

Kurt felt a blush begin to creep up his neck and into his ears, and he found himself grinning bashfully and staring down at the bag, running his fingertips across the dark, pebbled leather. "Yeah. I love it. My husband bought it for me."

"He's a very smart man with a very keen eye for fashion," Marco said.

"You have no idea," Kurt said, still grinning. "Or maybe you do. Blaine Anderson, my husband, he was very much a part of the Project Runway world as well."

"Blaine! Yes! You competed against each other on All Stars, right? That must have been weird."

Kurt laughed. "We weren't together while we were competing on the show - well, we got together during it. Sorta. It's a little complicated, but, yeah. He's very talented and impresses me every day. Just when you think you know everything about him, that you've learned all his secrets, he surprises you. And that's what I love about him."

"My girlfriend, I've been with her for five years now, I feel that way about her too."

"It's hard to be away from them, isn't it?" Kurt asked. "I don't think it's a thing I could ever get used to."

"It's hard, but when they're your world, they're really with you all the time."

"That's really sweet, Marco. I never thought you were a big softy."

"Love does things to a man."

"Amen to that," Kurt said, and they both laughed until Kurt cleared his throat, realizing they should get back on task. "Anyway, it's time to get back to work. My advice to you is to make sure you talk to your client and pay very close attention to her wants and needs. While it's very important to stay true to your own design aesthetic, it's even more important to make sure your client feels comfortable, sexy - on top of the world even - in your design. Because in the end, it's about them, not you. I'm sure you'll do fine. If you can hold on to a woman for as long as you have, then you must know how to listen."

"That I do," Marco said with a grin.

Kurt's attention was suddenly pulled elsewhere. He apologized to Marco and stepped away, heading off to the side of the room to get a better look, hoping that it wasn't what he thought. Then he saw it clearly: the familiar arm touch, the way he moved in closer as they talked, the softening of his voice, how he made a point to brush his fingers against the other person's hand at every opportunity. Kurt felt bile rising up in his throat as he watched Isaac with his mentee, Dylan, who was only twenty-two and basking in the attention, completely unaware of Isaac's true intentions. But Kurt knew, and he'd be damned if he let it go on. When it was time for the mentors to head back to the lounge, Kurt followed Amanda and Isaac out.

Isaac turned and took a detour down another hallway, and Kurt followed him right into the bathroom. If he wanted to confront Isaac, then this would be the ideal place to do it, off camera and away from the prying eyes and ears of others.

"Have you come in here to watch me take a piss?" Isaac said, seeing Kurt in the mirror and turning around to face him.

"How dare you," Kurt snarled.

"Ah, you just came in here to harass me, then. What do you want?"

"Do you have some sort of teacher-student kink? Or are you just a creep?"

"Do I detect jealousy?" Isaac looked amused with himself.

"Hardly. You wish that was even remotely what this is about." Kurt huffed and crossed his arms.

"I don't think you have any room to judge or speak for that matter - I'm not getting into this with you. You had your chance, and you blew it."

"You're despicable. If you don't stop what you're doing, I won't be afraid to say something."

"Oh, so you're going to try to get me disqualified, is that what you're saying? Is it because that may be your only chance of ever beating me at something?" Isaac taunted.

"If I wasn't the bigger man in this situation, I would punch you so hard, you wouldn't remember where you were. But since I won't stoop to your level, I'm going to walk away," Kurt fought to keep his voice steady.

"I'd be careful with what you say...someone could perceive it as a threat. Then who would be the one at risk of getting himself into trouble?"

"I'm done with you. We're done here. If I see you acting inappropriately with anyone, I'm going straight to the producers." Kurt turned and began to walk swiftly away, never giving Isaac a chance to respond. Even if he had, Kurt wouldn't have heard it because his blood was pounding in his ears. He was fuming because he couldn't believe any of this was actually going on.

Kurt entered the lounge and dropped heavily onto the couch, crossing his legs and arms. He began chewing on his bottom lip in his frustration.

"What's your problem?" Amanda said, glancing up from her phone.

"Nothing. It's nothing."

"What, did Blaine accidentally mix your colors with your whites while doing laundry?"

"What are you even talking about?"

"You two are all domestic now, right? I just figured that you were in a tizzy about some trivial dispute that only lame old married couples get in," she said.

"First of all, we are not lame, nor are we old, and, no. This has nothing to do with Blaine. But it's also none of your business, so I would appreciate it if you could just keep yourself from offering your two tarnished cents every time you want to hear yourself talk."

"You know what, Hummel? You're right. I'm just bored, and maybe I feel like the only way I can get a response out of you is if I take a dig at you. You're always so uptight that it actually worries me sometimes."

"I resent that statement. I am not always uptight." Kurt sighed heavily, calming himself down. "I think these competitions do something to my head, make me all -"

"Uptight," Amanda offered.

Kurt glared at her and then rolled his eyes. "I give up."

"No, I get it, I really do. I'm not magically immune to it. We're all under the same stress, and I know how much it helps to have a friend here, or at least someone to talk to during all this madness."

Kurt looked up at Amanda, tilted his head as he considered her, and then it was as if he was seeing her for the first time.

"I guess I never took the time to consider why Blaine liked you. He's always been a good judge of character, never one to rule somebody out before giving them a chance. Maybe I could take a page out of his book."

And then Amanda smiled such a warm, sincere smile, something Kurt had never seen on her before, and her frigid exterior seemed to have finally melted away to reveal a person, a person Kurt might actually find it possible to like.

The door opened to the lounge, and Isaac entered, cutting through the exchange between the two without acknowledging their presence. Kurt stiffened and sat up straight, his eyes following Isaac. Amanda, noticing the odd behavior, raised a quizzical eyebrow and, when she realized Kurt's attention was compromised and she wouldn't get an explanation, went back to playing on her phone.

Isaac poured himself some coffee and began to pick at the remainder of the snacks that had been laid out for the mentors that day, and Kurt stared at the back of his head for a moment before glancing at the clock on the wall. There were only about forty minutes left of their day, and Kurt promised himself he could get through it. Tim Gunn would be coming in to talk to them one last time before sending them on their way. Kurt's plans for tonight included a nice long shower with the aromatherapy body wash he had bought on his day off, a cup of chamomile tea, and a much needed phone conversation with Blaine.

-s-

Kurt turned the knob on the shower, cutting off the water, grabbed his towel and wrapped it around his waist, and stepped out onto the cool tile. He already felt so much better and knew that a good night's sleep would do him even more good.

When he climbed into the bed and reached for his phone from off the nightstand, he noticed that he'd missed a picture message from Blaine. He wasted no time bringing it up on the screen, but the smile he'd been wearing in response to seeing Blaine's name dropped almost immediately. Staring back at him from the screen was a slightly scruffy-looking tan and gray dog, the background unmistakably their apartment.

Kurt's fingers couldn't have operated that phone any quicker.

what the hell is that?

He waited for a few minutes but didn't receive a response to his text. He knew Blaine had to be by his phone because the message had only been sent about ten minutes prior. Then Kurt brought up his call log and hit call on the most recent contact. When the call connected, Kurt didn't even have a chance to speak before Blaine was rambling into the phone.

"I didn't know how to say no - I couldn't - they were there, and he was there, and I held him - I wish you could have seen his little face, how happy he looked -"

"Whoa, whoa, just slow down, would you?" Kurt said, bringing his hand to his forehead.

Blaine fell silent.

"Blaine...?"

"Kurt...?"

"Okay, so clearly I know the answer to my initial question, but I guess what I want to know is - why?"

"I was out in the city, running a few errands and grabbing lunch, when I passed some sort of event. Naturally, I was curious, and I crossed the street to check it out because there were all these dogs in the park. Well, anyway, it turns out it was Broadway Barks, you know -"

"Yes, I'm familiar," Kurt said.

"Then I made the mistake of petting a couple of the dogs and got myself into a few conversations. They knew who I was, Kurt, and pretty soon they had me telling them all about the dog I had when I was a child."

"Zigzag," Kurt remembered.

"Yeah. So they thought they'd show me this one little guy, a border terrier, and, well, Kurt, I fell instantly in love. He needed a home, and there's enough room in our apartment, so I gave him one..."

"Oh god. I bet they had a field day with you," Kurt laughed. "Did they take a ton of pictures?"

"Yeah."

"Congratulations, Blaine. You're their new poster boy. I'm kidding, but seriously. Your face is going to be on their website for sure. It's a sure-fire way to draw in more of a crowd. Slap someone familiar and attractive on the brochure and - voila! Puppies get adopted."

"You're angry with me, aren't you," Blaine said quietly.

Kurt sighed heavily. "Yes. A bit." But he knew he wasn't really mad at Blaine. Blaine just had some very bad timing.

"Here, give me just one sec..."

Kurt wasn't sure what Blaine was doing, but then he heard the phone ding in his ear as a text message came through. He set the phone on speaker and opened the text only to reveal another picture of the dog curled up and sound asleep in a bed that Blaine had apparently purchased for him. It was in that moment that he melted. But there was no way he was admitting it to Blaine right now.

"Fine. But he's your responsibility. And he sleeps in that bed, not in ours," he added.

"It'll be like having our own little Swatch -"

"Or Oscar," Kurt offered, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"He's small and harmless, I promise, so we can bring him to the boutique. He'll be like a little mascot, might even draw in more business," Blaine said, trying to sway Kurt the best he could.

"Or he might just make a mess of everything," Kurt grumbled. "I'm sorry, Blaine. I just never saw myself ever owning a dog. It's going to take some getting used to."

"I know I should have asked first, but he needed a home, and I wanted to surprise you..."

"To be fair, he is really cute. I'm sure he'll grow on me. All in due time."

"I think so too," Blaine said. "Just wait until you meet him and see how sweet he is."

"If he's anything like his owner, then I will love him to death," Kurt said, finally relaxing.

"Thank you, Kurt. For not freaking out on me," Blaine said.

"Worst case scenario is that we have to find him a better home. But I trust you, and I have a feeling that he'll be everything you say and more. Besides, it's better than having a kid, I think."

"Oh - I have to go. Snarls Barkley just woke up, so I need to take him for a walk," Blaine said suddenly.

Kurt burst into laughter, laughing so hard he snorted, then laughed again at himself. "That's what you named him? Snarls Barkley?" he asked, catching his breath. "Why am I even surprised. No, no...I'm not surprised at all. It's a fitting name thought up by such a crazy fool."

"I love you, Kurt," Blaine said, and he could tell that Blaine was smiling.

"I love you too, but some surprises should be a little more well-thought-out. Remember that for the future."

"I will. Talk to you tomorrow?"

"Yeah, tomorrow, Blaine. Good night."

"Night, Kurt."

-s-

Despite all the curveballs that had been thrown Kurt's way the past few days, seeing the looks on the high school girls' faces as they walked and stood happily and confidently on the runway made all the bad stuff wash away, if only for that blissful moment. Kurt even teared up when the girl in the winning look began to cry because she was so overwhelmed and happy, saying how blessed she felt and how thankful she was for what they had done for her and the other girls.

Ruby and Marco were in the top three with their designs, and Viola, who had a bit of a miscommunication with her young model-client, was still safe, but barely so. Kurt thought these girls looked elegant enough to walk a red carpet and receive all compliments from the critics. In the end, he was very proud of his team, and he would surely let them know.

Following the judging and elimination, during which Isaac lost a mentee and Kurt cheered internally, there were now nine designers left, and Kurt was still going strong with his three, and, having all lost one designer, Isaac and Amanda each had three as well. There was still a while to go in the competition, and Kurt knew that anything could happen, but he did his best to remain optimistic, because any other attitude would do him no good at all.