A/N: I have returned! My inspiration struck this morning so I wrote the majority of this chapter in the last two hours. Hopefully it's good.

My inspiration: I read a Klaine fic (there's a lot of those that I enjoy btw) and in it Blaine was running his fingers through Kurt's hair and that inspired a certain part of this chapter.

This turned out to be way longer than I thought it would be so it's being (technically) split into two parts. Originally I had planned for the bar scene to be a part of this chapter but oh well.

I hope this hasn't been too long of a wait... Anyway, I've never been to NYC or to a fashion show at all. So I'm taking creative license on the majority of this chapter. If something really bothers you about it or you have a suggestion to where the show can take place hypothetically, feel free to let me know.

I was just so excited to post this... Enjoy! :D

Disclaimer: I own nothing you recognize. None of the characters used, and definitely not the song used. And all mistakes are mine.

Nerves have never been associated with the name Kurt Hummel. In every interview, at every show, and even in the face of modeling disaster, never has he come across as anything but calm, cool, and charming. Today, however, his true colors begin to surface.

Not only have three of his most loyal employees attempted to console his obvious nerves, but even two newbie models tried to kindly assuage his frantic pacing and over-the-top micromanagement. His workers showing concern is one thing, but the models? Not so goo. Word is bound to get around that Kurt isn't exactly what he portrays himself to be and in the fashion industry, a cut-throat industry as it is, any weakness is taken advantage of by his rivals.

Sure, the last time he'd felt this nervous he had simply called Blaine and be comforted easily enough. But tonight has bigger implications all because of that specific hazel-eyed, curly-haired modern Adonis.

When Blaine had sent Kurt a text two days ago asking what he had planned for that Friday night, Kurt sadly explained that he was busy with yet another fashion show (this one being a prestigious, small-scale runway show reminiscent of the fast upcoming NYFW show Kurt was hoping to score a spot in). Not two seconds later, his phone rang, Blaine's name lighting up the screen. Instead of the smooth voice he'd been expecting, a female's tone assaulted his ears with comments varying between: "You tapping my boy's Hobbit ass yet?" to "Hummel, give me the hook-up. I know you gots a show this weekend."

At first he felt completely shocked, more so at the voice than the words, until a shuffle occurred and suddenly Blaine was on the other end of the line, stumbling adorably over a stream of apologies and sympathetic explanations of his friend's personality being a bit much at first. He then went on to ask if it were at all possible for both he and Santana (his room0mate and best friend AKA the woman who had just spoken on the phone a moment ago) to attend his show but he perfectly understood if it was too short of notice or too presumptuous of a favor so earlier in their friendship (and for some reason that word stung).

Kurt had then quickly composed himself and assured Blaine he'd send two tickets to the address of Blaine's choice right away via e-mail or messenger, whichever would be more convenient. He could hear Santana crow triumphantly in the background and assumed he might be on speakerphone. But none of that mattered. Because he would be seeing Blaine again.

That incident is what led Kurt to his current one-man-hurricane state of being. Blaine would be seeing him in his element for the first time since they met. Kurt wanted nothing less than perfection.

Not that any of Kurt's previous shows were imperfect in any way (he made damn sure of that!), but Blaine's presence warrants an even higher level of class, elegance, and beauty than is the (already fairly high) Kurt Hummel standard. When Rachel (the woman followed him everywhere!) chose to point out the irony behind this, Kurt immediately had her taken out and barred from the backstage area. A bit of a dive move? Yes, but he's hyped up enough as it is and he definitely does not need to add more fuel to the fire.

The worst part is Blaine hasn't shown up yet. Or if he has Kurt hasn't received any news confirming his presence. Fashion icons such as Heidi Klum and Kate Winslet sit in the audience and all he can think about is Blaine If that isn't infatuation of some kind, Kurt doesn't know what is.

Relax, there's still two hours before the show. That's plenty of time for him to arrive.

But with New York City traffic, the security measures outside of the venue, and Kurt's relentless worries, that logical thought does nothing to reassure him.

"For the third goddamn time, stop fidgeting and hold still!" Blaine can hear the annoyance in Santana's voice and knows if he doesn't relax soon she'll probably kill him but he can't help himself. He's going to attend a renown collection show, where celebrities will be sitting in the same room. He's going to be sitting front row (thanks to his connections – well, Kurt's connections). And, most importantly in his opinion, Kurt will be there. Perfect, beautiful, talents, witty Kurt.

What does a person wear to such an event? As a college student working part-time at a cafe, he didn't own a suit. The majority of his closet consists of jeans, t-shirts, sweatshirts, and the occasional scarf. A freak-out would have been inevitable if not for Santana keeping him grounded.

He gasps as Santana tugs unnecessarily at the tie around his neck. Okay, maybe Santana keeping him grounded is a bit unlucky if you to stop to really think about it. But she means well, so Blaine doesn't mind putting up with the subsequent all that much.

"There. You look like a million bucks, all thanks to Auntie 'Tana." She steps back to look him over approvingly before turning him around to face her full-length mirror.

Blaine takes a second to really look at himself. He's never been the type to hate everything about his body but he's never loved a lot of it either. His hair is his biggest sore spot, mostly due to merciless teasing in his earlier years of education before he found solace in large amounts of hair gel. Somehow Santana's taken this into account during his mini-makeover.

Black slacks hug his thighs, looking tailored and sophisticated. A white short-sleeved button-up spans his chest, layered over with a black pinstriped vest he didn't know existed in his closet. To top off his upper half, a gray skinny tie and matching sport jacket meets his eyes. Other than the less-than-comforting amount of gel in his hair, Blaine can't find a single fault.

"Whoa."

"Whoa indeed, Blainers." Santana, in a body-hugging one-shouldered red dress and patent leather pumps bends down and picks up a pair of shiny black loafers. "And these shoes," she orders as an afterthought.

Blaine takes the proffered footwear and moves to sit n Santana's bed to put them on. As he ties the laces he comments offhandedly, "I never knew you were so stylish."

"I've been this good my entire life," she retorts. "You've just never noticed. Always too bust looking at Kurt Hummel's ass or Kurt' Hummel's eyes. Kurt Hummel's jeans or Kurt Hummel's scarf. Kurt Hummel's rosy lips, or his, I admit, prominent pack-"

"Okay. I get it. That's enough." Thankfully he interrupted just in time, even though the flush on his cheeks causes Santana to smirk, satisfied that she got her point across despite being shot down while simultaneously embarrassing the crap out of him.

"Alright, Short Stuff. Let's get this show on the road."

Kurt can't help his mouth dropping when he finally catches sight of Blaine walking into the room. His usually dapper appearance is somehow even more appealing and his normally gelled-to-death hair is instead floating freely around his temples, the curls Kurt knew to be hidden now showing themselves. They look so soft and Kurt is filled with this desperate urge to run his fingers through the strands.

Blaine approaches him slowly, as if he too is in disbelief that this is actually happening. They're both here, in this filled-to-the-maximum venue, and Kurt thinks his eyes mirror Blaine's expression of awe.

At Blaine's side is a Latina dressed in a stunning red gown, but even that can't hold Kurt's attention for long. His eyes inadvertently take in Blaine's figure: the toned biceps, the fluffy eyebrows, the long lashes, all of it.

"Hey," Blaine breathes. And when did he get to be so close?

"Hey," Kurt returns, feeling equally breathless if not more so.

They look at each other openly, no words shared between them but the tension bordering on sexual lingers strongly in the air. His hand unconsciously moves up to run its fingers through Blaine's hair and it's just as soft as he imagined it would be. Blaine makes a quiet mewling sound and Kurt wonders what other sounds Blaine can make...

"Sorry to break up this love-fest," says a voice Kurt assumes must be Santana, "but the show must go on. They're waiting for you out there, Hummel."

They're both jolted out of the world they'd be enveloped in, Blaine more so as he pulls away from Kurt's touch. Kurt sighs internally that the moment had to end. But, as Santana said, he has people waiting for him.

"Right," he says, hoping his voice displays his disappointment to Blaine. By the knowing smile on Blaine's face, he thinks he's succeeded. "I'll see you to your seats?" he suggests hopefully.

Blaine nods immediately. "That would be great."

Santana sighs but decides to not point out their corny need to still be near each other even though they're "just friends." She knows they both want more, and Hummel doesn't seem too bad. "Lead the way, Porcelain."

Kurt quirks an eyebrow at the name but resolutely shakes his head before turning around and flourishing his hand in a gesture for them to walk forward. There's not much room to maneuver between the rows of chairs and the clumps of people so Blaine steps to his side while Santana follows behind.

After a few minutes of silence, other than the mass of murmurs and laughter from the people surrounding them on all sides, they arrive at the front row on the left of the runway. At the end of the row two chairs are covered in red fabric, the words Blaine Anderson and guest spread across the span of two seats in a elegant, flowing cursive font. Kurt removes the sign, handing it to Blaine to keep as a souvenir if he so wishes ("We can sell that on eBay for big bucks," Santana comments idly, to which Blaine glares), before gracefully swiping the red fabric away to reveal two hard plastic, black chairs. But unlike the other chairs in the room these two also have a large black cushion.

"Sorry," Kurt smiles apologetically at the duo before him. "It's the best I could do on short notice."

"It's not a problem," Blaine instantly reassures.

"Next time I expect the VIP treatment," Santana quips before plopping herself down onto the small seat, somehow managing to look high-class as she does so. Both boys blush unintentionally at the mention of next time, which implies there will be at least one repeat of this experience some time in the future. Just the thought of it makes Kurt's stomach squirm happily.

Blaine lowers himself into his seat, the blush still fading from his cheeks as he turns to look at his roommate pointedly. Santana merely shrugs before turning her gaze away to the runway.

"Good luck out there tonight," Blaine murmurs when he returns his eyes to Kurt.

"Thanks," Kurt returns. They shared a look before Kurt resigns himself to leaving Blaine for the moment. "See you in a bit."

Kurt walks away, glancing back just one to send Blaine a small smile.

"And you say you're not pathetic?" Santana laughs as soon as Kurt's out of earshot.

"Shut up."

Santana's just about to say something else when the lights dim and the background noise they'd become accustomed to completely silences. They both turn to look expectantly at the runway and smile when Kurt struts out. Santana because she admires the guy's spunk and Blaine because... well, to put it simply, Kurt looks hot.

In that moment he actually notices the scenery: pulsing lights, a black backdrop, and every other square of glass on the runway is lit a different color. There's a spotlight shining down on Kurt as he reaches the end of the catwalk. Blaine almost wonders what the theme for Kurt's show will be but then he realizes he should probably listen to what Kurt's saying up there rather than just watch like someone caught in a trance.

"Hello everyone. Welcome to the show. Tonight's theme was inspired by an event from my youth. I hope you enjoy." Well, that was anticlimactic and short, Blaine thinks to himself as he politely applauds along with everyone else while Kurt returns backstage.

A few seconds after Kurt disappears behind the black curtain, a familiar song fills the air and Blaine can't help but snort to himself. Before he can comment on it to Santana, the first model is walking down the runway.

Baby girl, where you at?
Got no strings, got men attached
Can't stop that feelin' for long, no
Mmm, you makin' dogs wanna beg
Breakin' them off your fancy legs
But they make you feel right at home, now

The first model is an awkwardly tall man with brown hair wearing a tailored black suit. Honestly, Blaine has no idea how this guy is considered a model. His steps are hesitant and when he reaches the end of the runway he looks really confused for a second before turning around and heading back. He does look good in the suit though, Blaine admits to himself.

Oh, see all these illusions just take us too long
And I want it bad...
Because you walk pretty, because you talk pretty
'Cause you make me sick, and I'm not leavin' till you're leavin'

Next comes a curvy girl with dark skin and wild curls. It makes Blaine feel a bit better about his own locks for a second. She wearing a stylish orange bodysuit with bright pink high-heels. She sways down the catwalk self-assuredly, a bright smile lighting her features. Apparently not all models walk with a blank face. Blaine admires her confidence.

Oh, I swear there's something when she's pumpin', askin' for a raise
Well does she want me to carry her home now?
So does she want me to buy her things?
On my house, on my job
On my loot, shoes, my shirt, my crew, my mind
My father's last name?

Following her is a pale-skinned girl with long black hair containing fashionable blue highlights. She's wearing a short, black skirt studded with spikes and a long, graceful white tunic. She also carries a dark blue tote bag. Her eyes scream Asian lineage but Blaine doesn't want to assume. On her feet lay a pair of midnight blue wedges. He likes the splash of color the blue lends to the outfit.

When I get you alone
When I get you you'll know, babe
When I get you alone
When I get you alone

Oh, come on
Yeah, yeah

After the Asian girl's departure, a tanned man with his hair styled in a Mohawk walks out onto the runway. He wears skintight dark-wash jeans, a brown leather jacket over a fitted white t-shirt, and black combat boots. He swaggers down the path like he owns the place, winking at the audience before turning around to go backstage.

Blaine takes a minute to try to find any type of connection between the outfits or the models, but finds none. Each model had been different as well as each outfit. The only thing they have in common is... their differences. And that's when Blaine thinks he's gets the gist of it all.

Baby girl you the shit
That makes you my equivalent
Well you can keep your toys in the drawer tonight, all right
All my dawgs talkin' fast:
Ain't you got some photographs?
'Cause you shook that room like a star, now
Yes you did, yes you did

Following the Mohawk-ed man's departure, a man with yellow-ish hair and large lips walks out. In that moment Blaine realizes how the lights accentuate everything, leaving nothing out of sight. He wonders how these people, with their obvious "flaws," can so confidently walk under those lights. He wonders if he'd ever be able to.

He shakes his head of the thought and appreciates the guy's outfit. Kurt's range is design is far and wide and it shows here tonight. The model wears light-wash jeans, loosely floating around his ankles. His torso displays a plaid button-up consisting of shades of gray. Somehow Kurt made Blaine want to wear plaid, which is not something he ever imagined happening. The model gives a lopsided smile and then he's gone.

All these intrusions just take us too long
And I want you so bad...
Because you walk city, because you talk city
'Cause you make me sick, and I'm not leavin' till you're leavin'

A willowy blonde follows, dressed in a whimsical flower-printed summer dress and white flats. Her hair is tied back in a strict ponytail but somehow she manages to come across as innocent and young. She smiles dreamily out at the crowd as she flounces to the end of the runway, pausing to strike a pose before turning back around and returning to whence she came.

Blaine turns to look at Santana, ready to share comments, but what he sees surprises him. The fiery woman he's known for so long has an expression Blaine has never seen on her face before: awe. Her eyes follow the model on the runway and she subconsciously licks her lips, which Blaine knows is the universal sign for attraction where Santana is concerned.

Definitely something he'll be bringing up later.

So I pray to something she ain't bluffin', rubbin' up on me
Well does she want me to make a vow?
Check it, well does she want me to make it now?
On my house, on my job
On my loot, shoes, my voice, my crew, my mind
My father's last name?

The stream of models emerge, clapping and nodding their heads to the beat. The audience applauds enthusiastically, Blaine included, as Kurt brings up the rear.

When I get you alone
When I get you you'll know, babe
When I get you alone
When I get you alone

They all take a collective bow before the models push Kurt to the front, wolf-whistling. Kurt flushes but takes another bow, waving gracefully before raising a hand to silent request for everyone to quiet down.

"Thank you all, so much, for taking time out of your lives to see a few of my visions come true here tonight. My models and I will be staying around for a few minutes to answer any questions you may have about the line. We've provided drinks and snacks at the back of the room. Feel free to stay for a few minutes longer if you'd like. And, once again, thank you for coming out tonight. I hope you enjoyed the show and found a piece you'd be interested in." With that Kurt and the models hop off the stage and wander into the crowd to mingle.

Santana stands from her seat, her body trembling minutely as she fights, what Blaine assumes to be, the urge to run off after that blonde model. But even Santana has manners so she waits as Kurt slowly makes his way through his adoring crowd and over to the two of them.

"You were amazing," Blaine says as soon as Kurt's within hearing distance.

Kurt shakes his head but gives out a 'thanks' anyway. "It's all them. All I do is make the clothing, but they're the ones who bring it to life."

"Think you can introduce us to them?" Santana interjects. She receives odd looks from both men but shrugs it off. "Just a thought."

Kurt looks at her a bit longer but eventually lets it go. "Sure. Come on."

He hesitates for just a second before grabbing Blaine's hand. Blaine feels a spark run through his veins and when Kurt looks at him questioningly he merely smiles and squeezes Kurt's hand gently. Kurt smiles back and begins to pull them through the crowd toward the refreshments table where all the models are currently standing around chatting with each other, Santana following determinedly behind them.

The boys look up first upon their arrival, followed by curious glances from the girls between Kurt and Blaine. Blaine feels inordinately nervous all of a sudden.

"Hey guys. This is Blaine. And that's his friend slash roommate Santana."

At the mention of his name every face turns from suspicious and curious to knowing and amused. Blaine wonders what that's all about but before he can think on it any longer he's being told everyone's names and starts to pay attention.

"That's Finn over there." The awkward model guy that Blaine remembers as being first on the runway waves at them from where he's stuffing a finger sandwich into his mouth. "He eats a lot," Kurt adds aside. "Next to him would be Puck, the one with the Mohawk, and Sam, the too-blond-to-be-true one." Both men give a 'hello,' Sam's acknowledgment accompanied by a glare in Kurt's direction. Kurt simply laughs before resuming. "The diva-licious woman to his right is Mercedes." The black woman surprises Blaine with a tight embrace. "Next to her is Tina, and last but not at all least is Brittany." Both the Asian woman and the infamous blonde who captured Santana's attention turn away from their conversation to send a brief smile in his direction. "And that's everyone."

Santana nods at Kurt, squeezes Blaine's shoulder, and then walks over to Brittany leaving Kurt and Blaine to themselves. For a moment Blaine's worried about letting Santana loose on someone who seems so innocent and naïve, but he decides Sanatna is a big girl who knows where the boundaries are. Besides, he's never seen her look so tenderly at someone before.

"Looks like someone took a liking to Brittany," Kurt comments when they're alone.

"She has," Blaine agrees. "I've never seen her like that before."

"I hope it works out for them," Kurt muses.

"I know I've already said this before, but you were amazing tonight," Blaine finds himself saying after a few seconds of tentative silence.

"Yeah, let's just hope everyone else here thinks so too."

"Have you gotten your new line picked up yet?" Blaine inquires.

"Not as of yet," Kurt replies sadly, "hence this show."

"I'm sure someone would be honored to have your designs on their shelves." Blaine can't help but adamantly believe that. It's Kurt, after all. Who wouldn't want him?

"We'll see."

They spend the next fifteen minutes talking about little things, keeping Kurt resolutely distracted from any negative thoughts. They're interrupted only twice, once when Rachel storms in and huffs in Kurt's face before storming away again without a word, and again when a man Blaine's never heard of comes over to praise Kurt's work. Blaine loves the look that overtakes Kurt's face when he talks passionately about upcoming trends.

Another thirty minutes passes by like a fast-moving river before Santana is once again by their sides, this time with Brittany in tow. The two are grinning softly and Blaine can't help smiling in return. It's so nice to see Santana happy for once, honestly and genuinely happy.

"What do you say we bust out of this joint and take ourselves somewhere fun?" Santana declares with a lewd grin.

"Sure, why not?" Kurt shrugs. And then the four of them are leaving and hailing a cab outside in the cool, thick New York City air.

A/N: And there it is! Some implied Brittana that I just couldn't resist as well as a certain song I just couldn't resist as well as some ND familiar faces I just couldn't resist.

The song is (obviously) "When I Get You Alone" originally performed by Robin Thicke and covered by The Warblers on an infamous episode of Glee.

Reviews would be wonderful. Whether they say you love me or hate me, I don't mind. If you have a comment or a question or a suggestion or an idea for the story, FEEL FREE TO LET ME KNOW. :]