A/N: The tune. (Not a song chapter, just background sound) Is Parov Stelar's – Chambermaid Swing. And it's actually the song used for my cat walk show, I suggest listening to it if you get the chance.
A few days later... Days, which Kurt had definitely not counted... (he'd counted the hours instead...)
xXx
Date night was a huge success, in fact Kurt still had the slowly fading hickeys on his neck to prove it.
So far, Blaine and Kurt had done a pretty good job of hiding their blossoming relationship from the rest of their friends and colleagues, which considering they were currently doing the run through and dress rehearsals for Kurt's first cat walk show and were constantly surrounded by people was difficult.
xXx
When Blaine first imagined modelling for Kurt and his show, he had in his head a very different image to what he was currently seeing.
In his head, there were suave and sophisticated outfits, lined up individually along the walls for the models to gaze at before they slipped them on and went on stage. He pictured dressing rooms, nothing fancy, but a small and private place for him to perform his quick changes before re-emerging on the runway. He imagined a backstage area bathed in light as models spun and stretched, next to him, (...not in a ...pervy way, just for graceful warm ups.) with the air smelling of some fancy flowers that avid fans had brought.
No.
He was wrong...oh so very wrong.
The backstage area looked like a watering hole on the Serengeti.
People. Were. Everywhere.
There was barely any space for him to breath, let alone spin or stretch.
The air was thick, reeking of solvent hair sprays and leather, the light, garish and artificial, casting eerie glows across people faces. The changing rooms were just rooms. No separating walls or even curtains, just a big open room with a dozen or so men stripping down inside.
Blaine was quite positive he'd seen more than enough...gentleman's area's... in those past few hours, to last him a life time, and he was a gay man.
He'd entered the backstage area, as Kurt ran off to the light box (leaving him with a peck on the cheek and a shoulder squeeze) to find himself greeted by a tall, lithe man with a shock of red hair and taught cheeks. Blaine recognised him from the photo shoot, though the man introduced himself again.
Orlando... the living and breathing stereotype of a gay man, who, Blaine was pretty sure, retained the idea he was straight.
He had dragged Blaine through the crowds of people. (Mostly men around his own height, which made Blaine feel strangely tall) and over to a bar stool, stood next to a large black block of plastic wheelie draws. Inside which, Blaine found out, were hoards of beauty products.
Orlando grabbed a couple of brushes from the box and dragged them through Blaine's hair roughly. Ignoring the grunts and whines the man emitted as it tugged at tangled strands.
Once his hair was deemed suitable, yet currently un-styled, he was lead over to a rail, upon which hoards of clothes (Jackets, pants, shirts...what appeared to be bondage wear too, but Blaine wasn't sure) were strung.
After a small bit of resistance, the first of Blaine's outfits was hauled from the rail and thrust into Blaine's chest, where the small man snatched it in and held it close.
'Changing rooms are that way.' Orlando had said in a monotone voice. 'Come back to me once your done, you have 2 minutes.' And with that he walked off, leaving Blaine alone to fend for himself amongst the sea of people.
xXx
As soon as Blaine found Orlando again, a (very tight) fitted outfit, now adorning his frame, he was back in the bar stool, as his hair was glued down with gel and his face painted in foundation and eye liners.
When all was done, Blaine got a fleeting glance in the mirror, and to his surprise, saw someone who looked nothing like himself.
His eyes were dark rimmed and mysterious, his chin clean shaved, without a hint of stubble, and every imperfection on his face obliviated.
His body looked slight, yet muscular, his clothes clinging to him in all the right places, and the pants, leaving nothing to the imagination. (Blaine had a sneaking suspicion Kurt had chosen this look especially for him)
He quickly hurried up a small flight of black metal stairs, followed by two similarly dressed men (One of whom was shorter than Blaine...win) and emerged on the runway.
The three froze in place, and awaited the orders from the light box.
As the music tracks flittered, the occasional opening melodies being heard, and the lights changed, Blaine watched the crew darting around him. Some adjusting light stands, others, making notes on bright red clip boards, some just staring.
Blaine felt odd. Almost like an auction piece. (hunk of meat sounded far too vulgar) People were eyeing him up, and it excited him as much as it unnerved him.
Suddenly a voice rang out over the speakers.
'Hey, Curly in the middle.' Said a man. His voice deep and gravely, from many years of smoking, and his tone sounding bored as hell.
'Blaine.' The quiet sound of Kurt in the background said, and Blaine chuckled.
'Yeah, him.' The man said, non-commitally. 'You know what you're doing? Hummel says you're new, that right?'
Blaine nodded firmly, and smiled up at the box, squinting in the light to try and make out any forms. 'I don't know much I'm afraid.' He said, introducing his charming drawl to the playing field. Though it didn't seem to work.
An audible sigh blared through the speakers and Blaine cringed.
'Ok.' The voice said in resignation. 'Just walk. One foot directly in front of the other. In time to the music. Kay?'
Blaine nodded.
'Once you get to the end of the runway. Hoodoo and Sparkles by your sides will strike a pose, and all you need to do is run your hands back through your hair and hold still.'
Blaine gave a brief thumbs up.
'Hold your pose for 5 seconds, then another 2 once those bimbo's leave. Then you just follow them back to backstage Got it. Good.'
The loud chords of an old Jazz like song started to blare through the speakers and Blaine winced at the volume.
'Now try not to cock up Curly' The voice said bitterly as Kurt tutted behind it. 'And we may get this done before dinner.'
xXx
By the time Blaine was released, he was positively exhausted.
He had thought at first this job would be a breeze.
Like hell was he wrong.
He felt like a dead weight, like he could drop down at any moment.
He had been through at least 4 energy drinks and the buzz was still so slight it was barely there.
Kurt had come and rescued him from backstage as soon as the rehearsal ended, and Blaine had almost collapsed into his arms, groaning at the deep ache coursing through his legs.
Kurt had merely laughed and told him to get used to it. He had some balms hidden away that should lessen the pain and reminded Blaine of his rewards if he was good.
(Despite the large pay check Kurt waved, Blaine didn't brighten up until the offer of Kurt was brought into the equation. Funny that...)
xXx
Right now, the two men were heading out, back to their hotel and double room. (No one needed to know if only one bed was used) and hopefully to a good night's rest.
Mel, as Kurt's personal assistant had been ever present throughout the day. Occasionally spotting Blaine and offering a thumbs up or encouraging smile, and Kurt, when around, would sneak him a sly whisper or concealed kiss. Steph was still running her shifts own at the 'Three Wishes', so was nowhere to be found, much to Blaine's frustration.
Kurt had grabbed Blaine another coffee on their way out, which Blaine had gulped down eagerly. As they were approaching the glass doors out of the building housing the show, Kurt span around to face Blaine.
'Come on, cheer up.' He said, to the moping man behind him, giving Blaine a playful poke.
Blaine grunted as the contact was made, and Kurt pouted in mock annoyance.
'What's got you so down eh?' He asked. 'It wasn't that bad.'
'Wasn't that bad?' Blaine cried. 'I'm surprised I'm still standing. It's only that coffee keeping me upright right now.'
'Don't be daft.' Kurt said, leaning over to brush his finger tips down Blaine's jaw as Mel looked away. 'You'll be fine.'
Blaine looked sceptical.
'Besides, we have a hotel room to return to, and I hear their beds are divine.'
'Mr Hummel.' Blaine questioned with mock sincerity. 'Are you trying to...seduce me?' Blaine jutted his head slightly, and the first formation of a smile appeared on his face.
'Why ever would you say that?' Kurt replied with a rambunctious wink.
'Now come on you.' He said cheerily, grabbing Blaine's hand and pulling him through the door. Mel in tow.
'You look positively shattered' Blaine merely nodded in response, allowing himself to be hauled down the street, the suggestive smile still playing around his lips. 'You need some sleep.'
'Can't. Sleep.' Blaine opposed. 'Too, much, Red, Bull, Just can't stand up, is all.'
Kurt sighed and tightened his grip on Blaine's hand a sly smirk embracing his features. 'Oh you'll sleep all right.' He said, as Mel ran close behind them.
He leaned in close to Blaine, ignoring the odd look the woman sent him and allowed his lips to graze the shorter mans ear.
'Even if I have to tire you out myself.'
A/N: ;)