A/N I have done this sort of thing before, what Blaine is going through, and it hurts. Safety pins are used in so many photo shoots it's unbelievable, the clothes don't look that good on anyone in real life (bar Darren of course), let me tell you right now it's all faked in the fashion industry. Modelling is a betch.
As soon as Blaine had turned the corner he had been grabbed by two blond women and shoved into a changing room. Once inside he realised both his messenger bag and his coat were gone. Christ, these women were like ninjas.
He glanced over to the huge mirror in the dressing room with him, as he slipped off his shoes and pants, then his shirt. As he shimmied out of his last layer the door was flung open and one of the blond women stepped into the room and marched over to him.
Blaine stood shell shocked, before grabbing his shirt and holding it in front of his more...intimate areas.
'Don't worry about it' she said, rapidly collecting his clothes and yanking the shirt from Blaine's hands. He winced, but she just smiled down at him.
'I've seen much more, and much worse Hun. You're fine.'
Blaine was still looking nervous not sure whether that was an insult or a compliment.
He felt a shiver run down his spine as a breeze blew against him from the moving fabrics.
The woman just circled him, every so often pinching at some exposed flesh, occasionally tweaking his curls or tapping his nose. After what seemed like the hundredth rotation she stopped and nodded.
'He's all set. Bring them in.' Blaine's breath faltered as another women stormed into the room, arms laden with different colored fabrics.
'Which one's on first?' the new woman asked, gently setting down the clothes on a rail near the mirror, before hanging the more exquisite pieces up.
'I think its P-Q up first. Then we do several takes of that then it's R-U. Then Orlando needs to do some changes with the hair, before we get that last set done.'
The second woman nodded again, and pulled a three piece suit from one of the hangers.
'Here sweet cheeks. Put this on, then head on over to Orlando.'
Blaine hesitated as the women turned to leave.
'Err...w...who's Orlando?' He asked, blushing.
'Oh.' The First woman said, realisation hitting her. 'You're the new guy aren't you?'
Blaine nodded, and began to thread the jacket from the hanger, holding it back in front of himself.
'Aww, don't worry sweet, he's the camp one with the bright red hair. Can't miss him.'
'Err...where would I find him.'
The other woman smiled and batted her eyelashes. 'Head on to the set, he'll probably be around there fixing up the other boys...if you know what I mean.'
The two blondes giggled into their hands and one muttered something unimaginably dirty under her breath, causing Blaine's cheeks to darken with embarrassment.
'Back down the hall, then 1st on the right. The one with all the music and lights. It's not hard to find.' She said, still sniggering.
Blaine nodded and thanked the women, still trying to shelter his man hood from their prying eyes. As soon as they shut the door he sunk down onto a chair in the corner and released a slow sigh.
How weird was this day.
xXx
It had all been normal when he'd woken up. Blaine was sure of it.
He'd got out of bed, grabbed some toast and slipped on his normal clothes. Shirt, tie, tight fitting suit vest and his black skinny jeans and of course, his Pavarotti scarf.
He looked like one of those indie musicians from the late 2000's early 2010's. This was after all his vibe.
He was then on his way to another 'talk' with his record label.
He had spent almost an hour in the waiting room only to be summoned into his 'managers' office and told in a rather tedious half an hour discussion, that they couldn't handle another artist on their books.
So he'd lost his job.
Which sucked, as apartment rent, in New York, is fucking expensive, especially when it's only you paying it, and you have a love for expensive designer labels.
Okay so maybe that wasn't a normal day, but it was certainly normal compared to what happened afterwards.
He had been about to head down to the subway, maybe go and visit David. (He always seemed to have good ideas. Although he wasn't quite sure how David would handle this. Being in the music industry is hard, especially when your résumé says you were beaten by the local freak high school at the regional show choir championships. If that doesn't say dweeb then what does)
But as he was heading down the stairs, he collided with a huge woman. Tall, brunette and wearing stilettos, dressed immaculately in the latest Hummel business wear. (Blaine wasn't a stalker, he just knew brands ok. Not, repeat NOT a stalker)
Blaine tried to duck away from her as she turned, hoping to avoid the swift blow to the head from her handbag that he knew was coming. But instead he just knocked against her head as she bent down to pick up her sunglasses she had dropped during the collision.
As she wiped them down and placed them back on the brim of her nose, Blaine was positive that behind those shades was an evil glare worse than the devils,
But he hadn't seen the corners of her lips flick up into a satisfied smirk.
'You' she had said, glaring down at Blaine menacingly, trying to hide the joy that was threatening to burst through.
'What's your name?'
Blaine looked around, and realised she was addressing him. 'Err...'
'I don't have all day.'
'Err...Blaine...Blaine Anderson...why do I know y-'
'No, you don't know me Mr Anderson. I would just like to ask you a few questions.'
Blaine shrunk back, Oh god, she was going to interrogate him, then find out where he lived, and come for him in the night and stab him to death with her heels. He took a cautious step back and eyed her suspiciously.
'I am not going to hurt you Mr Anderson, although I have every right to. Your carelessness has caused the irreversible denting to my Dior glasses, I hope you realise that.'
Blaine looked bashfully down at his feet and pivoted a little on his toe.
'But that is not the point.' The tall woman barked. 'Mr Anderson...may I call you Blaine?'
He nodded.
'Blaine, have you ever thought about modelling?'
Blaine looked up at the woman wide eyed, she looked completely serious. Blaine burst into hysterics. He continued in this manner for at least a minute, during which, the woman to pull out her phone and snap a picture. He straightened up and wiped a tear from his eye.
'You have got to be kidding me. Please tell me this is a joke. Have you SEEN ME'
'Yes Blaine. I have. And YOU would be perfect for my company's campaign.'
'Err...'
'I work for Pavarotti designs. I am assistant to a Mr Kurt Hummel. Maybe you've heard of him?' she said whilst smirking and gazing down at Blaine's neck, where he was tugging surreptitiously at his scarf.
'Yeah, yeah,' Blaine said blushing. 'The name rings a bell. But what has this got to do wi-'
'Blaine. I'm sure you have read about Mr Hummel's extensive ranges.'
'Well yes, I mean who hasn't.'
'Then you are almost certainly aware of his latest campaign, designed to suit the...' she hesitated, trying to find the correct word. '...smaller gentleman.'
Blaine nodded again, and gave her a questioning look.
'Well, one of our models for today's shoot dropped out, and you-' she said, pulling out a tape measure from her hand bag, and allowing the bottom to roll down to the ground, where she stepped on the end and held it up alongside Blaine. (Mary Poppins reincarnated)
'-are the perfect height for the job.'
Blaine's jaw dropped. A string of nonsensical rubbish fell from his lips which were unable to form real words.
'Here.' Said the woman, scowling slightly at Blaine's...eloquence. 'Take my card.' She handed him a small rectangular card, with the trademark yellow canary in the top corner and the woman's name and contact details below. She seemed pretty legitimate.
Blaine remained speechless for a little while longer, trying to gather his thoughts together.
This woman was offering him, Blaine Anderson, who had just lost his job, the chance to be a MODEL for his IDOL. (But don't tell anyone that part) Was he mad, No, well not that he was aware of, though looking back at his times with Wes and David...
Blaine shook his head and cleared his mind of memories. He looked up at the woman... Blaine checked the card, Mellissa, who kept glancing at her watch.
'You were being serious right?' he asked quickly, pinching his arm at the same time to check he wasn't dreaming. One wince later, yeah, he was awake.
'Do I look like I'm joking?' She asked in all seriousness. 'And I hate to rush you, but I am running a tight schedule so if you want to do it...' she trailed of and waited for Blaine to pick up.
'YEAH, I mean yes, I'll do it.' His heart was exploding now and he wasn't sure quite how long he was going to have his speaking abilities for.
'Brilliant.' She said, and whipped out her Blackberry from where she had placed it minutes before. 'Could you please flag us down a cab, I have to make a call.' She said and began to march up the stairs back into the open street.
Blaine heard the dial tone ring for a moment before a frantic voice on the end of the line picked up.
'Kurt.' Said Mellissa triumphantly. 'I think I found you a guy.'
xXx
And now he was standing in the changing room, zipping up his black dress pants and adjusting the lapel of his shirt. He was just about to slip on the checked blazer when the door burst open again.
Do these people never knock?
Blaine looked up to see not only the two blonde women, but also three men. And that was what made Blaine most self conscious, because one of said men was Kurt Elizabeth Hummel.
'Hey Hun.' Said one of the women, pottering over with a tie in one hand and a pair of Buddy Holly glasses in the other.
'We're running short on time, so the whole crew is here to finish the styling now.'
The two women suddenly engulfed him. Their tiny fingers grabbing segments of fabric and snatching at the seams. Safety pins were stuck in him from all sides. Every so often one would graze and prick at his skin, causing Blaine to yelp out in pain. He felt himself being bustled over towards the mirror, and could just about see his reflection through the mass of people surrounding him.
Blaine was suddenly aware of a cold breeze blowing against his chest and when he looked down he found his shirt had been removed. Blaine's eyes became wide, Holy Crap. This is a house of Ninjas
He heard Kurt's voice telling one of the women to do some adjustments on the shirt, so presumed that was where it had disappeared to. He tried to turn his head, but was rewarded with a sharp smack on the cheek by a tall red haired man. Presumably Orlando.
The other women escaped the throng of people and followed the first to make adjustments to Blaine clothes, and the space where they once were is immediately filled by the red haired man who dragged Blaine over to a swivel chair and forced him down into it.
Blaine heard the man tut disapprovingly then without warning a sharp searing pain shot across his forehead and a pair of tweezers were pulled away from his eyebrows, leaving the skin red and sore.
Blaine was pretty sure he screamed a little at that, and then again when the tweezers returned. The red haired man continued to do this for a while before humming in concession and running his fingers across Blaine's eyebrows. Blaine winced at the pressure, but was pleasantly surprised with the outcome he saw in the mirror.
His once dark and unruly eyebrows were no neat and tidy, in perfect triangles, with not a hair out of place-if you'll pardon the pun.
The tall man then turned his attention to Blaine's curls. He ran his fingers through the mess of hair and sighed dejectedly. He rushed over to a bag in the corner and pulled out a shawl, which he draped across Blaine's shoulders and front. Then out of thin air, the man whipped up a pair of small, metallic scissors and set to work trimming down Blaine's hair.
Blaine had no idea what was going on. He was too focused on the pain that was still coursing through his brow line to notice the ebony locks falling slowly to the ground. He scrunched his eyes up when he felt a hand brush against a sensitive spot behind his ear.
That was when he realised what was happening.
No, his hair, his beautiful precious hair. His pride and joy that he spent hours gelling and primping. This man was defacing his head.
He bolted upright, taking Orlando by surprise, and stared into the mirror.
Oh...
OH...
WOW! Blaine's hair looked...Amazing...like really really awesome. It was almost like he had gelled it back, but there was no product in it at all.
He looked...
...For lack of a better word...
...Hot!
He had to fight the urge to run his own fingers through his hair, but the angry glare the red head was giving him told him not to touch.
Orlando continued to snip away and Blaine watched in awe as his hair began to take on a whole new life, it was thick, yes he knew that well, but now it wasn't being weighed down, it was fantastic. His head felt lighter and he looked so much better.
xXx
After 5 or so minutes of more trimming and a spray over with fine and glittery hairspray Blaine was released from Orlando's grasps and was left with only Kurt and the other, short but very blonde, man in the room.
Kurt was on his IPhone, babbling something about prints and deadlines and had his back firmly to Blaine, which left only the blonde to deal with the ebony haired hobbit.
The man eyed Blaine hungrily before strutting over, swinging a large black bag from his arm, which he set down on the counter and unzipped painfully slowly, savouring every second with some sort of manic lust.
When he lifted the lid from the bag Blaine saw, to his horror, that it was filled to the brink with makeup.
Loreal, Lancome, Max factor, Rimmel London and more were all lurking in the bag. Could inanimate objects lurk? Blaine wasn't quite sure, but the mascara was definitely giving Blaine the shifty eye.
The man beamed wickedly at Blaine before extracting some of the products from the bag, holding them up to Blaine's cheeks. Blaine sunk as far back into the chair as possible, trying to escape the offensive products.
'So tell me deary.' He said, changing his mind about a particular shade of foundation. 'What brands do you normally use?'
'Err...' Blaine said croakily
'I don't really use makeup if I'm honest.'
'Oh heavens deary you really must, it does wonders, absolute miracle worker.'
Blaine rolled his eyes as he heard the tell tale parp from the bottle as the man squeezed the fluid into his fingers and massaged it between them.
Blaine flinched a little as the man began to smear it across his face in rough streaks. It was still cold and felt unnaturally heavy on Blaine's skin. He continued to rub the substance into Blaine's cheeks and forehead, reapplying it to his fingers then starting the process over again.
'You have to stop tensing your face dear, it's making frown lines, and the cover up will set in them. You'll look like a zebra.'
Blaine tried to keep his face calm but the man's invading fingers kept making him tense up again.
'Stop it.' The man said frustratedly, 'Stop It! Sto-STOP MOVING! Christ, your worse than my wife.'
Blaine snorted. This man...had a wife? Wow...
xXx
He tried to picture many things to prevent himself squirming. Kittens playing with balls of string, the warm new sheets on his bed, his new hair...
But for some unfathomable reason, his thoughts kept drifting...to the subject of one Kurt Elizabeth Hummel. Who was still standing behind Blaine ads stealing the occasional glimpse of the seated man when the phone conversation became dull.
Blaine was a fan. Yes, he wasn't afraid to admit it, well maybe to Kurt he was, but he certainly didn't mind ranting about his love for the designer to all his friends, some of whom agreed with him, some who...didn't.
But now he was actually faced with his idol, everything became fuzzy. All he could think about was this angelic man. He would make a cute kitten, wow he'd look super in my bed sheets, and does he think my hair looks sexy?
The three pictures he had ever seen of Kurt gave the man no justice what so ever. This man was a god. He was absolutely stunning and Blaine was sure he had never seen a more beautiful man. That was the problem. Those thoughts made things all the worse, because now not only was he obsessed with the man's talent, he was becoming a little too into the man.
It didn't help that he was sitting half naked in a room virtually alone with him. Blaine's mind was sinking slowly but surely into the gutter, and Kurt Hummel was being dragged with him.
xXx
Was it bad that Kurt's phone call actually ended whilst his makeup artist was applying mascara to Blaine's lashes and that he'd kept talking to an imaginary person?
Was it bad that Kurt hoped to avoid any awkward conversation that Blaine and the blonde man where having and instead just wanted to stare?
Was it bad that Kurt wanted nothing more than to talk to this ebony haired man, and then steal him away and kiss him breathless until they both died from oxygen starvation?
It wasn't, right? Right?
xXx
When the makeup artist finally left the room, Kurt 'hung up' his phone and turned to find a still shirtless Blaine standing just behind him.
'Mr...Kurt.' Blaine said cringing mentally. 'Umm...you don't by any chance have anything for me to put on, it's just..well...it's a little cold.' Blaine added, gesturing down to his torso where sure enough, little goose bumps were rising from the skin.
Kurt fought the urge to run his fingers across Blaine's chest, his mind flashing 'BOSS...EMPLOYEE...STRANGER' at him every few seconds, whilst his heart screamed 'SEXY...TOPLESS... POSSIBLE FRIEND WITH A REALLY HOT BODY'
Kurt found himself calling the two blonde women back into the room, and asking them to fetch the newly adjusted shirt, which was then used to cover this gorgeous mans chest. An offense in itself.
He helped Blaine slip the tighter fabric down his arms, not escaping a few awkward moments when their skin brushed and shivers shot throughout their bodies, and then personally did up the final few buttons next to Blaine's neck and tied up the dress tie for the smaller man, explaining the way the photo shoot would work all the while.
All of this talk and touch seemed incredibly intimate, and it shouldn't. Kurt had done it with countless models for countless shoots, nothing was out of the ordinary.
But with Blaine something about this was different and Kurt couldn't quite peg it down.
The pair slipped into an amiable conversation once the tie was in place. They shared stories about the most inane of subjects and launched into an even more absurd debate about whether Maroon should be classed as a red or a purple, Kurt demanding that it should have its own separate category as it was the rebel of the color world
. Their speech seemed to flow so naturally it was as if they had been friends for years, though the 'closeness' of the setting tended to make talking a little awkward. (Blaine was briefly standing on a metre high stage in front of Kurt while he did the final touches to the hems of Blaine's pants. Which meant Blaine's crotch was right next to Kurt's face.) Plenty of time for that in the future thought the sewer dwelling corner of the pairs minds as the pair tried to focus their minds on old football coaches and dead puppies..
The pair laughed as smiled for the rest time it took Kurt to put the finishing touches to Blaine's outfit, putting aside the stage incident, and when Blaine was finally finished, Kurt span him round to face the mirror and placed his hands on the smaller mans shoulders, smiling into the back of Blaine's hair at the contact.
The jacket had pins at the end of the sleeves to keep it tight around Blaine's small wrists, his hair oozed sophistication and the Benny Hill style glasses completed the look with a geek chic finish.
Blaine stared in the mirror as Kurt nodded in admiration at the finished outfit (and the man wearing it).
Kurt was a genius, and both men knew it. Blaine just showed off the man's talents even more, being the perfect poster boy for the design.
The twenty minutes were almost up when Kurt's phone buzzed into life, demanding both men to be on set in 2 minutes. Kurt squeezed Blaine's shoulders gently and pulled him away from the mirror and back towards the door.
'Come on my little dapper friend; let's go take some photos.'
Blaine's face split into a humongous grin.
'Friend' Kurt Hummel called him 'Friend'
A/N Ok I know that all seemed very rushed but in reality it was all in the space of 20 minutes so it really was, and besides, things are really hectic in these places and time truly flies, and the best way to escape the awkwardness of fittings is to chat.
See Darren's GQ shoot for the outfit in this.
R&R
TBC...