X

~ The Balencia Ball ~

Walking slowly out of his bathroom, his footsteps light and his breath hanging in the balance as if it were to go completely with one false sight, Kurt crossed his bedroom and went to stand in front of his full length mirror, his eyes widening. It was Wednesday evening, the night of the Balencia Ball, and he was dressed up to the nines in a very fitting white Tom Ford suit with a boutonniere, petaled in blue to imitate the signature blue rose. It had been his idea. The flower traditionally associated itself with royal blood, and thus it denoted regal majesty and splendor, a perfect little companion to accompany him to such an event. However, one other thing the blue rose also interestedly signified was hope against unattainable love. The meaning didn't apply to him but what could not be blessed on him could be blessed on another. Who knew what secret love stories were to be secretly told on the dance floor tonight.

Adjusting his Bondi blue shirt and tie, Kurt really had to compliment Tom Ford on his work. Yesterday afternoon, he had paid a visit to his modeling agency and had informed them of his invitation to the ball. They in turn informed him that he wasn't the sole model attending, what with it being high profile, and that designers from all over the fashion world were very keen to clothe them in creations from their latest collections. Tom Ford was amongst many of the designers wishing to further promote his work and after his successful cloaking of James Bond in 'Skyfall', another headlining event was in order, and what better event than the Balencia ball? Kurt had been allowed to see various tuxedos and suits, all elegant, all dapper but and after coming across a particular outfit from Mr. Ford's spring/summer 2013 collection, the search was over.

Now as he observed his bold, colorful and vibrant appearance, his shirt and tie fully enriched with purple and white hues and patterns, he decided he was doing this not for himself but for Kurt a months back who had peeked around his living room curtains and watched as limousine after limousine had driven down his road filled with his heavily made up peers. He hadn't gone. He hadn't had a date. He hadn't even had any friends to go with since Mercedes had gone with Sam and Artie had gone with his girlfriend. Feeling like the third wheel had not been an option and as a result of all past opportunities lost, he was determined to make this evening count. Though he wasn't the only one. Charlotta and Forde, the makeup, hair and wardrobe directors from most of his past shoots, had come to his apartment to work their magic and all Kurt could do was bless his luck.

He looked beautiful.

"Oh! I missed a spot. Wait a minute Kurt; you have a little... there. Done," flustered Charlotta, running over to him with a comb and adjusting his wave like hair before spraying it with another cough inducing cloud of hairspray. His hair didn't usually need much maintenance. In fact he barely touched it all. He usually styled it into a side parting with a touch of volume to avoid flat looking hair but now that his sight was no longer comprised by spray so thick his reflection had disappeared, he hardly recognized it. It looked as if Charlotta had plugged in some sort of voluminous tube into his hair and had repeatedly pumped and pumped at it until it didn't look far off from Marilyn Monroe's do when she sang to Kennedy. "Okay, now I don't want you dancing for too long. That has to stay like that throughout."

"Yeah, and I don't want you spilling anything on that suit either. Even the stain from a debutante's tear when she finds out her dress is actually from an off the rack joint in Queens cannot land on that, so be careful," warned Forde as she came to stand behind him, her hands resting on his shoulders before she began picking off any stray traces of dust from the lapels. Even though he was going to the ball and even though this was a big deal for him, Kurt didn't have the courage to stand there and say he wouldn't be dancing. He wouldn't even be going near the bar. Sitting at a table watching everyone on the dance floor was not the saddest thing in the world. He would just appreciate it all, take it all in, and offer his smiles. "Oh Kurt, aren't you the prettiest boy who ever lived?"

"I wouldn't know. I haven't seen them all," replied Kurt quietly as both Charlotta and Forde paced backwards to admire him from a distance. It was made evident that both girls really liked working on him. 'A face to shame a Victorian Doll' they had said on numerous occasions, like an adorable creature fresh from this point in time. Kurt was used to these compliments but he supposed he'd never tire of hearing them. Being thought of as cute did conjure up images of youth, and what better imagery when he was working in an industry that valued that above all else. Fiddling with the hem of his sleeve, Kurt took in the proud looks on both his assistant's faces. Every crease had been smoothed out and every blemish removed. Only perfection was left now. "Do you think what I'm wearing is alright? Should I be wearing black? The men usually do, don't they?"

"Kurt, you're no mere 'man', you're a model. There's a difference. So what if you upstage some of the girls, so what? You'll show that men's attire doesn't have to be restricted to the shades," assured Forde as Kurt returned to the mirror, checking himself out once again. Tom Forde's spring line was supposed to incorporate glamor and luxe into one with 'Dress up Boys!' acting as the official tagline. On him, it was complimentary to his slender physique and the color coding of the outfit only served to accentuate his baby blue eyes, a feature and natural birth gift his mother had given him that he really wanted to emphasize. "Now how are you getting there? You can't surely be walking like you did at the spectacle and if you so much as use public transport, I will-"

"No Forde, I'm not taking a cab or the bus or the subway or anything of the sort. In fact I'm traveling in a seed that will sprout into a pumpkin carriage with mice that will morph into horses. You'll see, it'll take me right up there to the palace, oh great Fairy Godmother," replied Kurt sarcastically as he made his way back into the bathroom to spray a scent that would forever associate its accords with the ball, Coco Mademoiselle, the youthful version of Chanel's classic No. 5. It had been a parting gift from Mercedes after graduation, and tonight, he was wearing it for both of them. "You and Tom Ford will be pleased to know that Noah has kindly offered to take me there with his entourage. He's supposed to be picking me up in a few minutes and knowing the Puckerman's, it'll probably be a vehicle that's either made out of pure gold or was in a vintage spy film."

"Well you're dishing out the dough if anything happens to that sui-"

"Shhh!" ordered Kurt as he placed a finger to his lips, Forde quietening as all their ears pricked for a sound. There it was. The sound of a smooth engine coming to a halt outside, the sound of a door opening and closing and the sound of Kurt's rushing footsteps to the open window to see if who he thought had come was all that met the ears, and what he saw, confirmed his predictions. A stunning night black limousine had been parked right outside his building on the street, the reflection of the moon's rays made quite evident on the mirror like coating. Its engine was still humming happily and as he observed the assistant chauffeur rounding the vehicle before attempting to open the door, it opened from within. "Oh my..."

Stepping out onto the pavement was New York City's very own James Bond, Noah Puckerman, dressed in impressive black fitted tailoring, his physique outlined by tight woven seams and a simple white shirt that transcended all possible expectations. Kurt's knees felt like they were going to buckle under the feather like support his legs were giving him because yes, there was Noah, boasting without thought, his masculinity, his appearance but above all, his loin burning appeal. He didn't even care who the man was wearing but judging by the expensive looking material of it all, it had to be at least as opulent as Armani. There really was no doubt. His eyes were stolen and caught by the sight of silver and as he looked down to see the man's expensive cufflinks, which only oozed further class, Kurt concluded right then and there that Noah Puckerman was the ultimate sex in a suit.

"Good evening Mr. Puckerman! How are you tonight?" greeted Charlotta, waving frantically as both she and Forde had rushed to the window, nudging Kurt aside in the process as they were granted the sight of his hunky ride raising his gaze to the window before throwing them both a dazzling smile. However, it was just as well. The boy, by no fault of his own, had begun drooling, near forming at the mouth and the last thing he needed was having Charlotta on his back about ruining the light shimmer on his lips that she had spent ten minutes shading with three different lip-glosses. Women... Huffing to himself as he moved away from the window, Kurt breathed a huge breath before settling away his nerves, distracting as they were. "You look very handsome in your tux if I may say so myself!"

"Well thanks, ladies! It's always nice to not only be greeted but also complimented by New York's finest looking women. I am very lucky!" thanked Noah, shooting them both his signature smirk, accompanied with a wink. It was flirty and harmless and Kurt didn't know whether he was the sole one there who was anxious. Both Charlotta and Forde seemed confident and grounded enough, but by the time their eyes had taken in Noah's wink, everything had changed, because with a loud thump, Charlotta fainted. She hit the floor contently as both the model and his wardrobe stylist looked down at her with amusement, their giggles barely muffled by their tightly lipped mouths. "Hello?! Are you still there?! Um... can someone please tell Kurt that I'm here! Anyone?!"

"He's making his way down! He should be with you shortly!" shouted Forde, quickly running to the window to inform the fretting man below before turning to face Kurt, who was now pacing up and down his room relentlessly. Who knew how long Charlotta was going to remain blissfully knocked out. For all shew knew, the girl could stay planted there for another hour or wake up at any second, and if Forde hadn't been here for Kurt, she would have snapped a whole photoshoot worth of pictures on her phone and uploaded them to Twitter, but she didn't. She had a model to assure. "Kurt, you've got the charm, you've got the looks and you've got the wit. If you can strike them dead on the catwalk, then you sure as hell can strike them dead on the dance floor, now go!"

Down outside on the street below, paced a man who was desperately trying to instill patience within himself. He had spent the last hour at his penthouse along with Quinn and the rest of his troupe getting themselves dolled up ready for the ball, another high profile evening which to them was just another run of the mill generic social gathering with champagne and caviar. Though admittedly, the Balencia would always turn into a rocking party under the crystal chandeliers of the Plaza by the end of the traditional custom like dance of bowing and curtsying, but his attention hadn't been anywhere but on the final guest he was due to collect. Kurt had accepted the verbal invitation and had given him his address for directions but as they had approached nearer the time, nearer to the model's apartment, Noah's nerves had felt as delicate as a silk woven web. Was there the possibility that Kurt wouldn't want to come in the end? Had he changed his mind? Was he even... e-even... Sweet Jesus...

"Damn..." muttered Noah in disbelief, his jaw hitting the ground in the wake of Kurt, the archangelic boy, stepping lightly down the stone steps in front of him, a smile gracing his delicate features. Right then, Noah was at a loss for words, but it was just as well. Words weren't enough to express the incandescent sight he was beholding at that moment. The moon's caressing rays was illuminating Kurt so flatteringly that his porcelain skin and perfectly coiffed hair had never looked more beautiful. He was like a figure that had escaped from the ceiling paintings of a cathedral in the Vatican City, from a long lost masterpiece of Leonardo Da Vinci that had only now been discovered and brought to life before his very eyes, eyes that never blinked. "W-Wow Kurt, you look... I mean you look..."

"Well, I hope the ending of your sentence is good, but don't worry, I have a pretty good idea," replied Kurt as the next thing Noah knew, he was gawking unattractively in front of the most perfect looking creature he'd ever met, who had by now descended the stairs and was smiling back up at him, a melodious giggle escaping from his rose tinted lips. The boy had found it rare to see a speechless expression on Noah's face. It wasn't one worn frequently and it never made more than two or three appearances a year, but with it now staring right back in his face, he could only feel proud that in his case, he had conjured it all on his own, just for him. "Mime artists could learn from you, Noah. You make an excellent living statue impression, and a handsome one at that. You look great."

"Well I always aim to please. I can't afford to do injustice to these bad boys," replied Noah, smirking he as flexed his roaring biceps. Only, there was problem. The sleeves of Noah's tuxedo weren't as tight as Kurt's which meant the boy saw nothing but a raised arm, but as Noah huffed in agitation that his show's star performers were hidden by the stage curtains, Kurt quickly shot out his hand and felt the impressive Puckerman 'guns', gently squeezing inch by inch of concealed but tensed muscle that had him nodding in appreciation. Full manpower was definitely in those arms. Noah would have no problem lifting Quinn on the dance floor but before he could retract his hand to enter the limousine, the tanned man swiftly took hold of his hand, brought it to his mouth and kissed it, his lips grazing over vanilla shaded skin. "But you Kurt, you are dressed to kill. Gimme sweet death is all I can say..."

With a roar of the engine and the slamming of doors, Noah and Kurt both quickly bustled themselves into the limo as it peeled off the street and headed off to the ball. As it smoothly drove along the road, Kurt made himself comfortable whilst at the same time taking in the splendor of the exotic vehicle. It was a Cadillac beauty, unlike the monstrosities his high school had hired for his prom, with supple leather upholstery, soft ambient lighting and a million other luxury features to wonder at for the next hour, offering a good enough eye candy distraction to the hand kiss Noah had given him prior to entering. The man had feathered his lips over his skin so lightly that they had hardly touched yet the boy had definitely felt something. It had been wet and ever so soothing, like a light lick of the tongue on his unsuspecting flesh, as if Noah had been seeking a taste. However, Kurt had done nothing in return but smile gratefully back, fully ignoring the odd looks the chauffeur had shot him because to be honest, he too didn't know what had possessed Noah to do such a thing.

"Kurt, I'd like to introduce you tall my friends. Finn Hudson and his girlfriend Rachel Berry. Finn's currently serving in the army whilst Rachel is studying here at NYADA," introduced Noah as he gestured over to the tall good looking man and his date over by the far end of the limo by the sliding partition, a man Kurt had seen with Noah at his Central Park photoshoot last week. His hand was on Rachel's leg and as they both greeted him with warm smiles and a casual wave, Kurt nodded politely. He wasn't going to inform Rachel that her boyfriend had been flirting with some of the models that day out of spite, no matter how tempting it was considering she was at NYADA and he wasn't. "Over here we have Mike Chang and his girlfriend Tina Cohen-Chang. Mike is a student at the Joffrey Ballet Academy of Dance in Chicago whilst Tina is on sabbatical."

Nodding his head politely once again, Kurt shifted his attention from the sleek stretched car to the outfits all these people were wearing. Chanel, Dior, Oscar De La Renta, names, names, names. Even the men were wearing someone. If this was to go on, not a single rich bitch at the ball was going to be seen in anything less than designer fabulous. As a result, Kurt stroked his jacket with comfort, happy that his fashion instincts had kicked in just the right amount of daring and boldness to make sure that not only was he wearing a design glamorous enough to pass but that it subsequently offered him great courage. "Here we have Santana Lopez and her girlfriend Britney Pierce. Santana is studying cheerleading at the University of Louisville and Britney, like Tina, is on sabbatical, and last but not least, we have my... fiancée, Quinn Fabray, currently studying Drama at Yale University."

"It's a pleasure to meet you all. I've got to admit you all look... so good," complimented Kurt, attempting to replace the now blank stares he was receiving with smiles. However as most of them grinned sympathetically back, admiring his efforts, Quinn could only further inspect him, as well as her fiancé. Noah was leaning forward in his seat next to her, throwing Kurt a set of reassuring smiles as he took in his friend's reactions. However, through it all, it seemed as though Kurt had shrunk in size. Either that or they had grown exponentially taller because in the small space of several minutes, the boy's height had definitely lowered. Were they always this harsh to newcomers? Or was it because it involved Noah and a model. "Well I suppose since I know a little about you that it's only fair that I tell you a little about me."

"Oh we know who you are, Kurt. You're the toast of the modeling world. Your face is everywhere. In fact most of us here saw you at the Salvatore," began Rachel as she leaned forward and smiled, a chorus of nodding heads confirming her words. Of course, they'd attended. They must have joined Noah as a group before continuing on to the Padova Pad where they no doubt must have witnessed the poor behavior he had showed Noah. It had been a terrible first impression and Kurt was just grateful they were giving another chance, except for Santana, who was mindlessly drinking glass upon glass of cocktails from the small bar in front of her with a look that clearly didn't think very highly of him."I recently read the interview you did for LOVE Magazine. Correct me if I'm wrong but I remember you saying you were unintentionally discovered in an old theater?"

"Yes, I was. I was to do work experience there for a year on a sabbatical after I was rejected from my first choice college, NYADA," confirmed Kurt as everyone's attentions were now solely on him, not that they hadn't been for the past five minutes. As predicted Rachel pulled a pained face when she learned of his unsuccessful application to NYADA, a look shrugged off by Kurt as he steamed on ahead. He didn't want pity hanging on his shoulders as well as judgement but then talking about it was in a way a form of accepting his rejection. He'd been rejected but he was now a model. A model. Maybe that letter had been the best thing to ever happen to him. "I was discovered by my own co-workers after they saw a set of music videos I was in back in high school, but I was hesitant at first because every route I've taken in my life, every decision I've made has always been for Broadway. Always, but my dad convinced me to give it a go and after I was cast in the Salvatore, it pretty much sealed the deal."

"Do you regret it... Kurt?" asked Noah suddenly as the attention rose from Kurt and onto him. To many in their party, his face would merely display genuine curiosity to a very good question, one that had Kurt raising his eyes to the ceiling in thought, but to Quinn, it was different. Noah's face was one to question. She had been closely observing the way he and Kurt had been communicating, their close body language, the lingering looks, and the kiss on the hand that she had witnessed before they left. All of it had become very suspicious. She didn't want to indulge in Noah's whims like a madman in a play. The least he could do was oblige her by behaving as became her future husband and not make a spectacle of himself with some pretty twink. It was sordidly obscene. "Going against your childhood dream? Do you regret it?"

"Actually no, I don't Noah. If I hadn't accepted my agency's offer then I wouldn't be sitting here with you friendly people," smiled Kurt, as everyone's grin widened before bursting into a choir of laughter. At the sight, Noah's expression warmed. This is what he wanted. He had wished for some time now to introduce Kurt to his friends. He had wanted the boy to enter his personal circle and he was glad it was all working out. Yet there was still an underlying factor that had his mind racing. Kurt was male, and Noah had never been this intent on strengthening a friendship with another boy. Not even with Finn. Maybe it was beauty. Maybe he just liked being surrounded by beautiful things. Or maybe it was something entirely different.

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Glee

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With a roar of applause and the clinking of champagne glasses later, the debutante presentation and traditional courtship ended. Each beautiful debutante, dressed in tulle, ribbons and lace gowns, turned to face their handsome beautillion partners and curtseyed politely, whilst the men bowed respectively back, so ending their dance. It was quite a sight if Kurt said so himself. In fact, it felt as though this whole event weren't within the realms of New York but in a French Chateau somewhere, the life of the busy city just outside the building vanishing in the light of something so opulent. When they'd first arrived, Kurt had hardly believed his eyes. The decoration committee or whichever stylist had overseen the direction of the ballroom's decor had clearly out done themselves, with every room in the Plaza having been lined every which way with six feet tall wedding bouquets and footman with scarlet red coats guarding the doors.

The grand ballroom itself, which was supposed to be the crown jewel of the hotel, had certainly not been spared the royal treatment. Blue, purple, and candlelight gel lights had been installed in carefully hidden spots near the pillars and ceiling to render the room a near fairytale like look, with a holographic projection of an intricate pattern of the colors projected onto the ceiling. The looming crystal chandeliers above had all been tinted purple whilst the proscenium stage towards the end of the room boasted its window like arch with an array of beautifully crafted golden cherubs, angels and gods. Down below, the ground was covered in candlelit tables and matching white veiled chairs, upholstered in white embroidered silk, topped with silver cutlery and large glass like replicas of blooming snow dripping trees.

Finally, in the center of the room was the dance floor, sparkling with diamond shaped outlines and glittered with crusts of sparkling jewels. The sight was very similar to the pictures Kurt had seen of the wedding between Thomas and Emily Puckerman. Very similar indeed. Possibly a recreation, but with a few alterations here and there to accommodate a ball of impressive proportions. Now, however, Kurt was sitting at his designated table with the rest of his party, or the remains of it. After the debutante celebrations, the dance floor was now free for everyone to use and since then, each table had been abandoned for a waltz to the music from the New York Philharmonic Orchestra. It was beautiful really. Couples dancing under such fantastical lighting, everything as it ought to be and all of it observed by everyone around with near glistening eyes.

"Everyone looks so good its criminal," complained Tina as she viewed the many hundreds of well dressed socialites in the low lit, yet atmospherically tinted room. The Asian girl, along with her boyfriend Mike, were one of the sole couples not dancing, but it wasn't anything Kurt was complaining about. They were keeping him from being left completely abandoned at their table whilst he lamely sat and drank his strawberry lemonade with a grouchy look on this face. Whether that was a cliché or not, he didn't know, but he was grateful for their company. "I have got to find out who their stylists are, and then I'll kidnap them so that I'll never go out looking like this again."

"Sweetie, you don't need a stylist. Stylists are only for those who have no artistic eye and I think you have got plenty of it," clarified Mike, wrapping an arm around Tina's shoulders and looking at her with an adorable smile. It was true what the man had said. Apart from agreeing on the fact that stylists nowadays were overrated in the entertainment world, what Tina had on was far from atrocious. A chic black satin gown, with upper length gloves, vintage designer jewellery and topped with a feather headdress was enough to make anyone awe at the woman. "Besides, I'd prefer that you dress yourself up, not that you be a living, breathing mannequin to some bitchy perfectionist."

"Boyfriends just don't get it do they?" asked Tina rhetorically to Kurt as the boy laughed at the mock insulted expression that has sprung up on Mike's face. Talking on the subject of relationships again wasn't comfortable territory for Kurt, although he supposed that Blaine always had good taste. Throughout the three months that they had dated, to make up for everything that had been wrong with what they had, Blaine had gone out of his way to shower Kurt with beautiful yet pointless gifts that would have had him complaining if it hadn't been for the fact that the boy's family was rather wealthy. Yes, materialistic gain had been tempting but in the end, unfulfilling. "Have you ever had this problem Kurt?"

"Well my ex-boyfriend did have quite the eye when it came to fashion so I guess I'm lucky there but I'm sure Mike will come to understand soon enough," giggled Kurt as Tina threw him a light hearted envious look, Mike rolling his eyes as he lightly shoved his shoulder shoved his girlfriend. What this couple had and was exhibiting in front of him was what Kurt was hoping to find some day. Though not anytime soon what with his calendar packed to the core with upcoming dates of relaxation but hopefully, sometime in the future, he'd have strong arms to hold him close in the night. "I was wondering how long you two have been together? It's just that I couldn't help noticing you're very comfortable with each other."

"About... six months ago, so at the start of March," confirmed Mike, looking from Tina to Kurt as he replied. Were they in love? Possibly. Possibly not. Kurt had no idea how long it took to develop such profound feelings, but the two seemed happy and that was the main thing. In fact, the room seemed to be full with it. Each couple on the dance floor was exuding such romantic vibes that it was hard to go a miss, especially when it came to Noah and Quinn, who were waltzing their way through everyone like it was nobody's business. Until now Kurt had never known Noah to have such moves, especially when it came to the ball room but there he was, leading his fiancée with as much grace as Quinn herself. "They look good together, don't they? Like a perfect match."

"They do... how long have they known each other for? Must be some time now," inquired Kurt as he looked back over at the Asian couple, their eyes now so unfocused and dreamlike that it was hard to garner their attention. It was true that both Noah and Quinn did fit each other better than most around, and it was clear their table wasn't the only one with similar thoughts. All around, people were eying them delightedly whilst letting out choruses of 'awws' even though it did come off as patronizing. However, Kurt didn't think the young couple cared all that much, or even took notice. The chemistry between them was plain to see and was such a distraction from table top conversation. "Er... Mike? Tina?"

"Oh sorry... yeah, um, I think they've known each other since high school," answered Mike, snapping himself out of his daze as Tina giggled embarrassingly. This was a perfect chance to gain some sight into Noah and Quinn's relationship. His suspicions had been rising for some time now but he didn't want to assume anything. He wanted facts. "Their relationship's been on and off since then and they've had their fair share of drama but its only till recently that things got serious and now they're engaged. It's great. I've known Noah longer though, since elementary. Finn and I have been friends with him since then and been with him through it all: his dad's death, the girls, and the Mohawk or the 'babe magnet' as he used to call it."

"Ah yes, the Mohawk. I can't believe he did that. I mean I always thought he looked better with a full head of hair. Must have been a typical teenage faze," giggled Kurt as Tina nodded in agreement. Noah, like now, had even been of interest to the media back in high school, which had undoubtedly led to photos of the horrible haircut making their fair share of appearances on the newsstands. When trimmed and short, it was acceptable, but when allowed to roam free, it looked more like road kill that had been glued on to his scalp. It was a look the jocks at Kurt's school had attempted to imitate, claiming that if it brought all the girls to the yard like Noah had famously claimed, the do would stay. "But come to think of it, he looks good with it all shaved."

With another echoing round of applause, replacing the sound of bowed violin strings of, Kurt turned around to see the end of the dance, every couple on the glistening floor beaming as they retreated to their tables. It had been quite a long number for ballroom standards and must have proven quite a workout for those inexperienced, but as Kurt caught sight of Noah escorting Quinn back to their table after they had just been complimented by a set of onlookers, it looked as though the couple had barely broken a sweat. Deciding it was time for a change of scenery, and thinking it a good excuse to further check out the rich surroundings, Kurt gave Mike and Tina a parting wave before heading over to the bar. He didn't think it likely, but he thought he'd seen a dashing young man eying him from afar, and with the chance of a possible dance, Kurt's determination to meet this long gazing admirer doubled with each step.

"Dude, where you learn to dance like that?" asked Mike as Noah reached their table, a proud smirk crossing the heir's features as he held Quinn's chair out for her to sit on before politely tucking her in. Sitting himself down in the seat next to hers, Noah lounged back in his chair and continued his air of confidence as he picked up his glass of champagne and sipped at it non nonchalantly. To see an impressed near disbelieving look on Mike's face, the king of dance himself, was certainly something to feel pleased about, considering he'd never been the mover, and in that moment, he had the temptation to challenge him. Though everyone knew how that would end. "I didn't know you had that good of coordination."

"Well I didn't want to make an ass of myself in front of everyone so I learned the moves," shrugged Noah, placing his glass down onto the table as Tina raised her eyebrows in surprise. He'd learned the special debutante variation of the waltz, what with its mathematically expressive and intense yet elegant moves that at first glance resembled dancing swans, using their feathered white wings for courtship than for flight. "Sidi Larbi Cherkaoui, you know, the Belgian experimental choreographer. He taught me. He was really good when it came to teaching me how to waltz, and yes, I would have asked you dude but then you would have seen how shit I was before I started and plus, I didn't want to miss the face you just pulled a minute go. Priceless."

"Oh, he's good. I'm surprised you got him to leave Antwerp for you, I mean the dance is tricky but you'll never guess what Kurt said earlier. He said he learned it all on his own just by watching past videos of the ball. A waltz with only him," commented Mike, Quinn whispering a silent 'wow' as Noah's eyes instantly shot around the table. Now that he came to think of it, Kurt wasn't here. He could have sworn he had been at least five minutes ago what with the subtle glimpses he'd shot him from the dance floor but no, his seat was empty and he was nowhere in sight. Mike, sensing the question Noah was itching to ask, relented to inform him of the model's whereabouts. After all, the man did hold responsibility for his invitees. "He went over to the bar a few minutes ago. I think he felt bad for us staying here just for him, what with him not having a partner and all."

"I don't think that's going to pose a problem now by the looks of it. Our Kurt has found himself some company," giggled Tina, pointing over to the bar at the far end of the ballroom as everyone turned to crane their necks over the crowd of coiffed heads. There Kurt was, listening to a handsome man beside him, chatting idly with a flirtatious glint in his eye, and although it served to make the others smile, it served one to scowl. It was of course inevitable that a good-looking kid like Kurt would attract attention, but Noah had been banking for a no show. Somehow, the sight before him rendered itself inappropriate, improper and anger inducing. Odd. "Maybe he'll get himself a well deserved time on the dance floor. He deserves it, don't you think?

"Well certainly. Kurt has a wondrous dancing talent and it would sure go to waste if he wasn't asked by someone," replied Quinn as she nodded at Tina's question. Although never turning up to a ball without a partner and experiencing the sideline depressive slideshow that the unfortunate ones would experience, she really thought it a pity that Kurt had no one. Most of the couples here, especially the debutantes and their beautillons, were now or already had been designated dance partners for the remainder of the evening. Noah was her's and had been ever since her very own debutante ball back when she'd been sixteen, but for newcomers like Kurt, who had merely straggled along for the ride, there was no ride, to ride. "I bet he'd look beautiful on that dance floor."

"He would, but I don't think that guy is good enough for him. He doesn't look strong enough to lift him into the air let alone direct him through a dance," muttered Noah grumpily, Quinn looking over at him with a frown as he glared menacingly at the man next to Kurt. Was this jealousy? If it was, it was bad news. It was insulting to Kurt and degrading to him and he had no right to inquire into any of it since it wasn't any of his business. Kurt could approach whomever he wanted; he could flirt with whomever he desired but this building possessive like need to prevent any possible suitor from nearing the boy was near enough to course the anger that had been running through him into action. Kurt did deserve a dance. He totally agreed with Quinn on that, but only with someone worth his while, someone worthy to hold him in their arms.

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Glee

.

"And you never stumbled once? Wow, you must have great coordination," complimented Joshua, Kurt smiling back affably as his new bar friend awed at the memory he had just recounted. It had all been on the subject of the limited rehearsal time he'd had for the Salvatore Spectacle, but he didn't think he'd explained it very eloquently. Most of the time he'd been too busy wondering if this handsome man before him was actually talking to the right person but from the intense look he was being given, a non-verbal confirmation was all that was needed. "I'm no good at the graceful dancing like it is here. I'm more into jumping around, if you can even call that it that. I suppose it could qualify as modern dance but it's too… uncoordinated for such a distinction."

"So just plain old 'just moving my body every which way without looking stupid' dancing?" giggled Kurt as he crossed his legs, his foot lightly grazing Joshua's shin. At the touch, the man looked down. Kurt had never in his life flirted with anyone, unless he'd done it without knowing, but he hoped the action wasn't intrusive. He was just copying what they always did in the movies, no matter how exaggerated or unrealistic it was. "Well posture is everything when it comes to the waltz. It's just an added bonus I just channeled what I had learned from my lessons into the show. It was quite entertaining watching the other models attempting at even letting it loose. I seriously thought their stick thin legs were going to snap at any second."

"See that's it. I never saw the appeal in thighs that small. I always like a little meat on the bone," chuckled Joshua, as he not so subtly replied to Kurt's leg touch with his own form of interest. With a raise of his hand and a stroke of fingers later, he began trailing his thick palm over Kurt's, which had been resting on the bar top, inviting the man for an oh so demanding touch. However, for Kurt, it took all the power within him not to grab and hold onto it for the course of the night. Were these the set of hands that were to waltz him on the dance floor? Were they? "Did you come with anyone tonight, Kurt? I mean you couldn't have possibly arrived alone taken what a picture you are tonight."

"No I didn't, but I-"

"So, would you care for this next dance? I'd love it if you'd accompany me for the next waltz," pleaded Joshua as the feather like touch that had been hovering over Kurt's hand suddenly took hold of it, and held it firmly yet softly in a grip that had the boy begging to say yes. It was as if the man had read his mind exactly, seen through him like translucent paper and delved deep in his eyes for that one desire. Though Kurt was still hesitant. Although he had seen the odd same sex couple on the dance floor, he didn't think it wise to go flitting off waltzing with people he had just met. He wasn't accustomed to it and he didn't think it polite to Noah and his company. Then again, they all had partners and he was the odd one out. They must have sympathized with him to some extent. They would allow him at least one dance, surely.

Meanwhile as Kurt nodded his head, hopped off his stool and headed towards the dance floor with his new partner, Noah was overseeing the whole thing as a joke. Talking was enough but dancing, seriously? Boundaries were being crossed here and he didn't think highly of it. He had been the one to invite Kurt. If it weren't for him, he wouldn't be here. If anything, he had the right to dance with him. Noah blinked. It was a tempting idea. One that would prevent others from harassing the boy with unwanted company. After all, that's how he was seeing it. Kurt had just wanted a drink, not company. That's what his party was there for and luckily it was what the music was there for too, because with the next set of tapping of the conductor's baton against the music stand, Noah had pulled Quinn up from their table and lead her onto the dance floor, leading the waltz as everyone froze.

The orchestra set sail as the heavily string based melody, topped with flickers of the wavering flute and the plucks of the double bass had both Noah and Quinn dancing through each motionless couple, their steps weaving in and out through everyone. They acted as an instigator to a game of dominoes, as if each couple they passed would thaw out of a frozen state to join the music, one by one, until with a whole round of the vast dance floor, everyone was waltzing to the beautiful score that was dynamically reflecting off the walls of the well acoustic accommodating hall, the note of every instrumental made wide and clear. Though no amount of Johann Strauss II's, Dmitri Shostakovich's or Pyotr Ilyich Tchaikovsky's greatest works could distract Noah's eyes from his true focus. The beautiful model dancing with someone else. Someone who wasn't him.

As this variation upon the waltz called upon the switching of partner's mid-dance before returning to the person one had begun the waltz with, everyone began landing themselves with someone new. People would find themselves holding someone else in the space of ten seconds. They'd be leading a new partner around the floor in the next set and as Noah lifted Quinn high up into the air, with a blink of an eye and the sudden flash of the chandelier's crystal from above, the body he was setting down was not of his blonde fiancée, no, but of a brunet boy looking back at him with shock, his blue eyes wide as they held each other, motionless, in the center of the floor. Kurt was in his arms. He wasn't in anyone else's but his, and as result, he couldn't help the spread of power, dominance but above all pleasure that surged through him because of it.

He didn't waste any more time. As if the lights in the ballroom had dimmed in favor of a single spotlight to shine upon them and only them, as if everyone had disappeared into a black out leaving behind only their sole figures to continue the long lost dance, Noah began writing the musical language that was dance with Kurt. There was something beautiful about watching a single dancer alone onstage, just like when Kurt had first performed at the spectacle, but for Noah, solos seemed always connected to a form of loneliness. When people were together, there was a union, and it could be tense, it could be romantic, dramatic and cold, but it was about how they related and how they looked into the mirror, which was another person. There was a mirror in between him and Kurt, and he wasn't going to break it.

As for Kurt, nothing was on his mind other than how he was being expertly led across the spacious dance floor, Noah's supportive grip on him, guiding him through each couple as everything came alive once again. However, everyone was not how they had been before. It seemed as though Noah and Kurt had lost track of their surroundings and weren't paying attention to anyone or anything around them because as the music demanded more from them, so increased the constant switching of partners.

Though the two weren't switching. They weren't separating from each other. They stayed and remained together as the waltz around them began to break up and deteriorate around them due to the lack of their involvement in anyone but each other, and as Quinn stumbled off to the sidelines, watching with increasing horror as her fiancé and the model, danced their way without a care in the world in the wake of everyone else finding themselves being rudely shunned off the floor, her breathing labored.

Noah was her partner, not Kurt's. He was her future husband, not Kurt's. In fact, Kurt had no right dancing with Noah at all. What they were doing was absolutely inappropriate and it seemed she wasn't the only one who thought it. All around people were observing the dancing duo with scathing glances, criticizing whispers and shaking heads as if both of them were breaking the rules of the Balencia. As if, they were single handedly going out of their way to break customs that had been with the ball for many years. Quinn just didn't know why Noah would do this to her. He was publicly making love to Kurt through dance and there she was, winding her way through throngs of onlookers to try and catch up to them both, tears welling in her eyes as the couple seemed completely oblivious to her pain, her humiliation and everyone else around them.

However, she was correct in thinking that both Noah and Kurt were too far out of it to be retrieved. The model's attentions were solely focused on the striking man in front of him, whose gentle yet electrifying touch was sending his senses into overdrive. Their hands classically weaved themselves around each other as they spun and twirled across the floor and he didn't know what it was, but with each touch, the heat rose and with each stroke, the electricity deepened. Similarly, Noah's eyes no longer held arrogance and pride that that had flickered within them several few minutes ago. Everything had been replaced. Now something else had appeared, glinting within those chocolate orbs, a cavern of treasured secrets bursting at the seams begging someone to discover them, but who?

In any case, the man's eyes did not for second stray away from Kurt's. Even though he risked tripping or misplacing his hands in their intricate graceful dance, the boy's blue orbs were like the seductive potions that would never let him go. Hold me tight. As he lifted Kurt into the air, the boy's weight next to nothing in the light, Kurt placed his hands on Noah's broad shoulders, allowing further support as they spiraled together, the model's hair ruffling in the wind as they lived the waltz. Life me up. Body language was something one constantly read about and in this case, it was something that lead Kurt to raise his head high in response, to close his eyes in near ecstasy and allow himself to be brought back down down to the ground with Noah stroking his arms seductively as he breathed erotically onto his exposed neck, causing the boy to elicit a soft pleasurable gasp. Breathe on me...

As this went on, as it all went on with everyone powerless to stop it, Quinn stood rooted by the side of the dance floor, her arms shaking and her breathing coming out in strong heaves as she finally gave up. The new found and explosive chemistry that was nothing short of explosive was impenetrable to her futile attempts to cease it. She couldn't stop something that looked so right but was yet so wrong. I just... never thought he'd end up being so beautiful, she thought, noticing Kurt's dazed look, as he looked up at her man, the boy's near white suit posing the perfect contrast with Noah's dark tuxedo. Yes, as a couple floated across the star crossed floor from heaven, a single tear rolled down Quinn's cheek, her emotions rapidly rising to the surface and as she hopelessly looked on at her fully taken fiancé, she narrowed her welling eyes.

I hope he makes your life hell…

~ PLEASE REVIEW ~

(But if you wish to criticize, may it be constructive. I'm not going to learn from my mistakes and improve if you vent.)

Author's Note: I based Kurt's ball suit from Tom Ford's 2013 Spring/Summer Collection - Look 7 and the Balencia's Waltz from the one choreographed by Sidi Larbi Cherkaoui in Joe Wright's 2012 film adaption of Leo Tolstoy's Anna Karenina.

Disclaimer: I do not own the rights to the characters from Glee since I don't own the show. I'm not earning money from this and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended. I mean only to please whoever stumbles upon my Love Story.

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