The last week prior to show weekend was a blur of preparation, a perpetually stressed Kurt, and finalizing details. Finn, who usually helped keep things flowing evenly, was in and out constantly, running last minute errands and making arrangements for the show. Blaine had a devil of a time trying to keep Kurt fed. Hed taken to carrying protein bars with him at all times and sticking one in the designers hand whenever he was too distracted to yet again tell him, "No, Blaine. Im still not hungry."  Instead, Kurt downed coffee by the gallon and kept late hours. Blaine chose to spend most of his nights in Kurts bed, cajoling Kurt to join him when the night got too late for Blaines own health.  Kurt hadnt really talked with Blaine about how often the two shared a bed, but hed never sent him away either, so Blaine stayed. 

None too soon for Blaine, Friday morning rolled around and both Hummel vans took off to the host hotel for the Mayflower Threads Fashion Show. Kurt had booked several rooms, one each for Sam, Quinn, Rachel, Tobais, and Finn. He wanted to try to find one for Blaine despite the hotel being filled beyond capacity but the slave assured him he was happy to stay in Kurts room. It wasnt as if the two didnt sleep together anyway, Blaine reasoned. Kurt conceded the point and gave the room hed originally booked for Tobias to Kitten. 

As soon as Kurt settled things in their room, he went downstairs to oversee the loading of his supplies from the vans to his locked prep-room. This was also his personal area to finalize his models appearances before they hit the catwalk. Blaine followed along, taking mental notes and staying close while still trying to look at everything. He turned to gawk at the Grand Ballroom for too long, then realized that Kurt had disappeared...again. 

After several minutes of searching through the bustling crowd and seeing no sign of his owner, Blaine was starting to get nervous. He reached for his phone but was suddenly grabbed, dragged harshly away to a side hallway and slammed face first against the wall. He froze in terror at the feel of a firm body pressing up against his, frantically trying to find the words that would get him out of this situation.

"You ought to be more careful, my sweet Afternoon Delight," a voice purred against his ear in a warm, silky tone.  "Running around loose like that, people might get ideas." 

Blaine sagged for a second before roughly bucking the body off him and spinning around. "Oh My God, Kitten! Please dont do that, you nearly gave me a heart attack!" Kitten had been texting him regularly over the week and Blaine had gotten somewhat used to, if not completely comfortable with his crazy guardian. 

The Irish lass backed away, hands in the air defensively while laughing merrily. "Easy there, puppy. It was just a joke. No need to yip." 

Blaine was still trying to get his heart rate under control when a well put-together older man walked by, wearing a tag identifying him as a designer. He glanced in Blaines direction with interst.  "Well, thats cute. Whom does he belong to?" 

Blaine swallowed but before he could say anything, Kitten insinuated herself between them. "Not to you, perv. Thats all you need to know. Move along now, nothing you get to see here."

The mans eyes flashed arrogantly and he turned his full attention to the pair.  "Well, were going to have to disagree on that point, Im afraid.  His eyes glanced down to Kittens badge, designating her as security, a lower level position.  "Why dont you walk away, my dear, while I have a chat with the boy."

Kitten rolled her eyes. "And by chat, you mean massage his asshole with your dick, Im assuming. God, this is boring. Bugger off, you. Isnt it time for your Metamucil?"  Kittens voice was openly dismissive and she was looking around for something more interesting then what was in front of her; namely the enraged, high profile designer. Blaine cringed. 

The man gestured and two extremely muscular men with the same private security nametags as Kittens walked up.  "Gentlemen, would one of you escort this extremely crude little girl out of my sight?"

"Hi Noah," Kitten greeted one of the men cheerfully.

"Kitten?! Fuck me running, I didnt hear you were working this one."  The man surged forward to hug her. "Who are you signed on with?"

"Im with Hummel Designs. Hes up and coming so he cant afford me, but I gave him the worlds sexiest ass discount." Kitten winked cheekily. 

Noah laughed, rolling his eyes at the girl.  "Kurt Hummel?  Damn, I havent seen him since he tipped me off about the private security gigs for these things.  Ill need to pop in later to hang out.  You pit-bulling the Hummel wardrobe room, then?"

"Nope, strictly bodyguard duty for me. Specifically, the kid tucked behind me." 

Noah looked at Blaine, who watched the bigger man warily from his place behind Kitten. Blaine had no qualms about hiding behind the girl. She was fierce and in a much better position to protect them then he was. Plus, shed kinda started the whole thing.

"Are you going to remove her sometime this week?" The designer asked testily.

Puck snorted. "Hell, no. Just rent the damn slave tomorrow after the show if you want to get your rocks off with him that bad."

"He wont be available for private rental," Kitten shared helpfully. 

"Is there a reason you wont do your job?" The designer asked his hired security.

"Because I like my bones in nice, solid pieces, not cracked and jutting out of my skin," Puck replied, shrugging. 

The older man scowled and turned to the other man he had with him. The guy quickly shook his head.  "Dont look at me, Im with Puck on this one.  That Kitten chick has a wild rep. I heard she was raised by Russian mafia." 

"Or wolves," Puck added. "Wasnt that the word at one point?"  He grinned at the petite redhead, clearly having fun.

Kitten laughed, leaning casually back against Blaine. "Aww, gee, youre making me blush.  Speaking of blushing, you have my number if youre free later tonight, Noah."  

Puck grinned at the girl, taking a minute to boldly run his eyes down her body.  "Ill text you when Im off duty."

The two men stood there awkwardly, not looking at their boss. Clearly they had no intention of making a move. Finally the designer scowled and turned away. Puck waved goodbye, blowing Kitten a kiss as the group disappeared around the corner.

Blaine glanced over to his guardian. "So, Russian wolves, huh?"

Kitten winked. "Something like that.  And dont judge me, that man kisses like a fiend.  And dont even get me started on his gigantic..."

Just then Blaines phone started sounding and he answered a frantic Kurt whod been looking for him. Kitten stole the phone from him, telling Kurt to chill his ass out, she had Blaine and shed give him the grand tour while Kurt did his thing, before handing the phone back. After calming Kurt down, Blaine promised to stay with his guardian and theyd catch up later. 

Blaine wanted to go back to the grand ballroom so he could evaluate the Cat Walk. He leaned against the wall out of the way, staring at the risen stage. Tomorrow hed be dressed in Kurts finest, strutting down that plank like the world existed to admire him. He tried not to think about how many of the people out in the crowd would be planning on fucking him later. He didnt realize hed started shaking.

"Blaine, hun. You wont have your collar on up there, so most of those people wont even know youre a slave. And for the walk, it really is all about the glitz, glamour, and gossip. All anyone will be thinking about is who youre wearing. They reserve all thoughts about taking those clothes off for later, where the alcohol lives.  Anyway, Ill be with you every second of the evening. You dont even get to take a leak without me leaning against the stall door. See if Im kidding about that." 

Blaine leaned close, feeling her arm slip around his waist. He sniffled a laugh, not doubting that Kitten would indeed follow him into a bathroom. "Howd you know what I was thinking? Are you psychic as well as homicidal?" 

She laughed. "Maybe a little. Im good at body language. Helps me predict where the attack may be coming from."  Changing the subject, she turned them out of the room. "So, Im starving. Lets go up to your room, order tons of room service and watch hot man-on-man porn." 

"Or, how about we stop in at the restaurant across the street for take away and watch a musical upstairs?"  Blaine counter-offered. 

"Beauty and the Beast." 

"Peter Pan," Blaine countered.

"Firefly?" Kitten changed up the game.

"Done."  Blaine had eaten enough hotel food to last a lifetime. And hed been more than grateful to discover that this particular hotel didnt offer service slaves.  He had no qualms with Disney films.  Normally, theyd be a go-to for him.  But hed rather have something less romance based at the moment.  He didnt tell Kitten that, but he got the feeling she knew anyway. And no one in their right mind could turn down Firefly. 

They finished their walk and ordered food. Kitten stayed at his elbow the whole time, chattering on about the time she met Chewbacca. Watching Kitten pace animatedly beside him, the whole weekend seemed less intimidating. How scary could a Fashion show be, anyway? 

--------------------------------------------------

Kurt dragged himself up to his room to find Blaine and Kitten plopped on the bed with numerous food containers, chatting and watching TV. He was more than relieved to see that Blaine had settled down and was relaxed around the girl. Kitten could be a right pain in the ass, but shed proven many times to be a loyal friend and her positive attributes were well worth dealing with her antics. 

"Kurt, hey. You look tired."  Blaine popped up when he saw an exhausted Kurt enter the room. He tugged the designer towards the bed, pushing Kitten from her place splayed across it. "I got you a falafel sandwich. Come sit for a minute."  To his surprise, Kurt came readily. He accepted the food with a tired thanks.  Blaine got the feeling the designer had finally hit his breaking point and passing out was imminent. He politely escorted Kitten out of the room, promising on the souls of his ancestors that he was in for the night and hed text her if he planned to so much as step out to get ice. Kurt had finished his dinner by the time Kitten could be coerced to vacate, so Blaine helped tug his clothes off and got a set of Kurts preferred jammie pants on him. He urged the exhausted man into bed and quickly stripped himself down to his boxers before turning off the lights and television and climbing in as well, spooning up behind him.

"You feel okay about tomorrow?" Kurt asked tiredly, idly stroking the arm resting over his chest.

"Yeah. I mean Im nervous, and a little scared. But mostly about the cat-walk."

"Not the after party?"

"Not at all. You sicced Kitten on me, remember? You shouldve seen that girl back off these two ogres earlier with just an icy look and her shiny reputation."

"That reputation isnt gossip. Its solid," Kurt mumbled. "Shes really left a mark in her brief time. But, thats good. That she makes you feel safe."

"You make me safe," Blaine told him softly. But the designer had already passed out.

-----------------------------------------------

Blaine woke with the dawn, his body used to rising around this time to work out. He didnt have to get up so early but he enjoyed the quiet peace to run. And then there was the other reason. Kurt was curled tight against his chest. His hair was a wild mess and he snored faintly. He was perfect.

Another time, another place...who was he kidding?  Another world.  Blaines life had been destined to be miserable and brief since the day hed been taken away and branded.  Blaine had made his peace with that, in a way. Scrounging for enough food to survive had kept his mind off...well, anything else.  He hadnt had the energy for what ifs and mightve beens.   Now though, he had only to look beside him to see everything he had lost.  It wasnt just gratitude for pulling him out of the hell hole life had dumped him in, saving his life in the process. Blaine had considered that possibility. Part of it probably had to do with saving him, if only because Kurt was the kind of person who would do the things he had done for Blaine. From day one hed treated Blaine like a person, like his needs and wants mattered, he mattered.

Transitioning out of the role of a slave, putting himself out there, had been terrifying and a struggle. Living with Kurt and his crazy clan, even those who wouldve kept Blaine in his place given their preference, was completely unlike anything hed even considered a possibility. But it had happened, and he had changed. Now Blaine thought like a person again. He wanted...things he shouldnt want and couldnt have.

He would never forget that he was a slave, and outside of Kurts carefully managed little world, he was still property.  When he went out into the world it was automatic for him to behave appropriately for his place in society.  But sometimes around Kurt he got lost in the pretending, when the what-ifs didnt seem so out of reach. He reached out and stroked Kurts cheek with a feather-light touch. It wasnt gratitude. Blaine knew all of Kurts quirks, good and bad. He knew his sunny smile and beautiful laugh, his stubborn obsessiveness, and tendency to get wrapped up in himself to the exclusion of others. Blaine knew Kurt, knew his charms and his flaws. And he loved it all. 

Even if Blaine was willing to try a relationship despite the imbalance in their status, Kurt had nixed it before it could ever start on day one when he told Blaine there would never be sex between them. Blaine hadnt believed him at first, then, when he realized Kurt meant it, hed been relieved. Now, there was only regret.

The phone alarm blared to life, causing an instant reaction to Kurts still form. Instead of burrowing deep like he normally would, Kurt bolted upright, eyes wide. Looking at the bedside clock, Kurt started cursing and untangling himself from the covers.

"Good morning," Blaine said, sitting up and watching him panic.  Kurt was halfway across the room before he spun back, smiled and placed a quick kiss to Blaines cheek before he was off again.

"Hey, you. Okay, ten thousand things need to happen.  I need to be downstairs.  Quinns half jacket for her third change needs a new button, the pocket square on Sams evening wear suit is horrible, Ive no idea what I was thinking.  Blaine, did we ever find your left shoe for that dark blue outfit with the matching bow tie?" 

"Yes, we did. I packed it myself."  Blaine was watching the scene with a sense of bemused affection as Kurt went right back into the state hed been in the previous evening like a switch had been flipped.

Kurt was diving through Blaines suitcase, still muttering. His outfit was sitting on a hook and Blaine thought Kurt looked good enough in to model himself. Blaine had told him as much during the first fitting.

"Thanks, sweetie. Make sure you get some breakfast, will you? Call is at 1130 down at my changing rooms. Please please please dont be late and dont go anywhere without Hailey."  Kurt went back to muttering to himself as he closed the bathroom door to shower.

Blaine jumped, hearing a knock on the door. He stood to answer, looking down at his state of undress in chagrin. Oh, well. He grabbed his collar off the nightstand, clicking it in place as he went to the door.  Before he could say anything, Kitten breezed in the instant he cracked it. She handed him a coffee as she went by, trotting to the bathroom to yell in to Kurt that she was stealing Blaine and there was a Skinny Latte for him on the desk.

"Blaine, hiya! Hurry up and change so we can pound some pavement. Theres this great nature trail just a half mile away."  Blaine considered attempting to decline, then glanced at the closed bathroom. He needed to clear his head, and he was quite sure Kitten could keep him sufficiently distracted
---------------------------------------------------

A grueling two hours later, Blaine dragged himself back to the room. A distraction was one thing, but being run until he was half dead had not been what hed had in mind. There was a large playground along the trail and Kitten had decided they should do military style exercise drills on it. Blaines arms felt like spaghetti. Hed honestly felt he was in pretty decent shape, but he had nothing on the hyper-psycho ball of caffeine that was his running partner. She had looked as fresh and alert when she dropped him off back at his room as she had when shed picked him up.

With a groan, he dragged himself to the bathroom, hoping hed drown in the water and end the pain. While filling the tub, he checked his phone, finding several messages from Kurt. Unsurprisingly, they mostly revolved around his check-in time and making sure he ate. A few asked him to bring some things from the room with him.  He texted back that Kitten had tried to kill him, hed eat after his shower, and hed bring everything Kurt had asked for with him.

Blaine finished showering and dressed in the casual clothes Kurt had chosen for him. Pretty much every time he set foot outside the room he was to be dressed in a Hummel Designs Original. Blaine thought that if Kurt had tried a hand at athletic wear hed have brandished the KH logo through the muddy hell hed be subjected to that morning.

Blaines phone dinged.  The text read Knock Knock, Neo.  Great. Blaine poked his head out the door to find Kitten leaning against the wall in the hallway, messing with her phone.

"Wow, you look a lot better without all that mud.  Ready to head out?" She asked brightly. Blaine gave her a baleful glare, ignoring her laughter.

"Dont take this wrong, Kitten. But I kind of hate you a right now." 

She grinned, handing him a chocolate covered banana. "Its not my fault. I couldnt help myself. Your arm muscles just looked so hot when you swung on the overhand bars..."

Blaine blinked at the banana a second, slightly baffled. Mentally shrugging, he took it because it looked delicious. He decided it was better not to ask. Blaine also refused to comment on the grueling drills that had ultimately landed him in a surprisingly deep puddle of mud when his arms had finally given out. Kitten had been swinging right along with him the whole time, chatting like she was having a morning stroll and not swinging six feet in the air doing hand-to-hand drills. And shed hung there by one arm, laughing like a deranged monkey while Blaine sat in the mud, sputtering and spitting out dirt.

"Where are we going, anyway?" He asked, following Kitten into the elevator.  They had some time yet before he was due to meet with Kurt.

"We are going to meander.  You saw the place yesterday, this morning you get to see the people. And hopefully youll still be in one piece when I deliver you to Kurts room for styling, make up, and dress."

The hotel was much more crowded than the previous evening.  Kitten guided them through the large Grand Ballroom.  The catwalk swarmed with techs, adjusting lights, working on sound and doing important-looking things with hammers. Models roamed about in various stages of dress, harried designers walked with deliberate casualness, while assistants scurried frantically every which way. Everyone wore a laminated name-tag with their name, designer group, and position listed and color coded.

And then there were the slaves. While the hotel had none specifically for pleasure, they had a number of workers who served as a jack-of-all-trade pool of steady labor. They efficiently ran about in black jeans and polo shirts with sturdy, light green collars emblazoned with the hotel logo.  Blaine automatically stroked his own collar, the touch soothing as always.

Several assistants led beautiful men and women on leashes, clearly the slave models for the show. Blaine saw a pair of lovely identical-appearing boys tethered off to the side, sitting and talking quietly to each other.  They looked so young. Blaine hadnt realized children were a part of the show. Kitten saw where he was staring and tugged him against a wall, out of the way of traffic.

"The twins belong to Beltane Styles. Theyve been at every show Ive ever been to," she told him softly.

"But didnt you say youve been doing this with Kurt for 3 years? How old are they?"

"Theyre 19, I think, or 20."

"Really?  But they look nearly pre-pubescent..." Blaine cut off.  Oh.

"That was the general idea, I believe. They do well enough for the Walk, but the designer generally only uses them once. Mainly, theyre for the after-show. And they make their owner serious bank, let me tell you. I guess the lack of testicles isnt much of a turn off."  Blaine knew it happened, but that didnt make it any less horrifying. He knew that models got a lot of plastic surgery but it really bothered him to see work had clearly been done on many of the slaves, who would have no say whether or not they wanted to be cut on.

Kitten guided him away from the main rooms down a wide hallway towards the designers rooms. Blaine saw that most corners along the halls had rounded metal loops along the wall about 5 feet up. He shivered, knowing what they were for and hating it. As they walked by the registration room, a tall sandy haired slave was shoved face-up against the wall by his handler, hands efficiently zip tied behind him. A leash was snapped onto his collar, the other end affixed to a wall loop with about a foot of slack. As soon as the handler left, the slave rolled around to lean casually against the wall, watching the world go by with a bored expression.

Seeing that Kitten was looking at her phone, Blaine wandered over to lean against the wall next to the guy.  "Can you talk?" he asked quietly.

"Well, I was going to go for a coffee, but since youre sex on a stick..." the slave drawled, eyeing Blaines body suggestively.    

Blaine wanted to fold his arms over his chest defensively but kept them at his side rather than make it blatant he was unfettered while the other man was slave-locked.

"So, what did you want to chat about, new meat?"  The slave asked casually.

"I dont know, really. Anything? You just look really experienced with this and as you guessed this is my first show. Whatever you can tell me, Id appreciate."

"Make sure you carry plenty of lube with you for the after-show," Sebastian said instantly, smiling darkly.  "And I hope you liked getting ass-fucked hourly by overbearing, entitled, rich men. Though with those big doe-eyes of yours, you might score a few women. They like their boys innocent looking. Incidentally, have you met the twins, yet?"  He asked with a sly smile.  "They might have some valuable insight to offer. Not that they have much else, mind you."  He laughed lightly, the tone at odds with his malicious words.

Suddenly he was hanging, choking on his tie when he lost his footing. Blaine hastily lunged forward, helping him back to his feet while the others slave wheezed.  "Hello and fuck you," he spluttered at the figure across from him, coughing, eyes red with tears he couldnt wipe away.

"Hello, Seb," Kitten replied darkly. "Remind me, didnt we discuss what would happen to you if you ever spoke to me or mine again?" 

"Im terribly sorry, Catwoman. I didnt see your name on him," Seb sneered at Kitten, clearly familiar with the girl.  "I assure you, Idve been a proper gentleman if Id had an inkling." 

She sighed. "Blaine, this is Sebastian. Asshole, this is Blaine. Seb, Blaine is with me.  Now you know.  Never look at him again." 

"Is there a reason you kicked his feet out from under him when hes in slave-lock?"  Blaine asked, trying and failing to hide his anger.

"Did I mention the part about him being an asshole? You have enough to deal with without him whispering his poison in your ear."  Sebastian smiled innocently, winking when Blaine met his eyes again.

Kitten didnt miss the exchange. She smiled sweetly at Sebastian, who paled and pushed himself further against the wall, futilely trying to get some distance between them.  "Let me tell you a story about your new friend, Blainy.  When I met Sebastian, hed gotten himself into some real hot water. He and another slave, what was that boys name?"

"Nicholas," Sebastian replied, managing to sound bored.

"That was it. Anyway, Seb and Nick were being considered for private purchase by a big time designer. It meant getting away from these smaller events, better living conditions and less of the after-show issues. She hadnt decided which she wanted yet. They both belonged to the same owner at the time and Sebastian here decided to hedge his bet a bit. He threw a drink into the other slaves face while they were exercising together."  She turned to back to Sebastian.  "What was in that drink again?"

"Rock salt," Sebastian replied airily. "What can I say, it seemed like a good idea at the time?"

"Well, his brilliant, masterfully executed scheme backfired because he got caught and the big designer decided she didnt want him and he was labeled a troublemaker. So he doesnt get to play any reindeer games anymore. Hes kept isolated and guarded. Thats why his co-workers are in an outdoor pen getting some fresh air and chatting while Seb is stuck in here keeping the wall from falling."

"Someones got to do it," Sebastian commented. His eyes were closed, head tilted back against the wall.

Kitten considered the slave for a minute.  "Are you wired, Seb?" she asked, changing the subject.

"Naturally," he told her without opening his eyes.

"Okay. Blaine, come look. A lot of the slaves have these and you should be aware of them."  Kitten lifted Sebastians shirt, revealing several silver dollar sized, tan foam patches on his toned chest, stuck to both nipples and four more on his abdomen. They were thin enough not to obviously show through the tight shirt and had what looked like wires embedded in the foam.  After giving Blaine a moment to look them over, Kitten slid Sebastians shirt back into place.  "Hell also have them glued on either leg around his lower inner thigh," she tapped Sebastians femoral area on either leg. Sebastian kept still throughout, accepting the handling without protest.

"What are those?" Blaine asked, quite confident he wasnt going to like her answer.

"What happened to you when you disobeyed or screwed up back at the hotel?"  Kitten asked him instead of answering.

"Um, we were whipped." 

"Right.  Well, you cant whip a model. Or hit them. Or burn them. Its physically traumatic and defacing. So, to keep this lot in line theyve had to develop other methods to ensure obedience.  A lot of owners choose to use these.  Theyre electrical pads, linked to wireless remotes.  You can even download an App to your smart phone and set it to their specific frequency.  Press the button and they deliver a pretty signifigant shock to whomever theyre attached to.  Of course, they can only hold so much of a charge so you get limited uses before you need to change them.  For full punishment, they can actually be attached to external wires so they can deliver a stronger or repeated jolt. But that generally only happens in private when their handlers can get them naked so they dont soil the clothes if they pass out."

Blaine swallowed, imagining electric shocks in such sensitive places.  Sebastian opened his eyes, meeting Blaines wide stare.  "Generally, youll see them put us on our knees first.  A good jolt can put you on the ground.  Just look for a kneeling slave begging or crying, cant miss it."  He grinned sardonically.  "Welcome to the Mayflower, Cutie Pie." 

Kitten tugged Blaine away from Sebastian and down the hall.  He allowed himself to be guided, his eyes locked to the ground, looking haunted.  "I just wanted you to know about those things and Seb makes a good example. Im sorry about him. Hes damaged and jaded all to hell, but unlike most here, he brought a lot of that on himself."  

Blaine didnt answer.  He was accustomed to slaves being used and discarded, but this was a different kind of awful. He clung to Kittens arm, glancing around periodically, only to drop his gaze back to the ground. He was aware that several bouncers were interspaced along the halls, and all seemed to watch Kitten. She winked at a large black man with a shaved head as they walked by. He rolled his eyes but smiled back at her.

Kitten guided Blaine down a bustley corridor and knocked perfunctorily on a door before going in. Racks of familiar clothes filled the room.   Kurt was sitting on a bench seat, intently sewing a button onto a vest.

Blaine took one look at the familiar figure and lost it. He rushed in and slid to his knees in front of Kurt, clutching him around the waist. "Thank you, Master. Thank you, thank you," Blaine muttered thickly into Kurts shirt.

"What the hell happened?"  Kurt demanded.  He dropped the vest, his arms encircling Blaines body protectively. Blaine buried himself further, sighing into the hug.  "Hailey? He was fine this morning."

"Life."  Kitten told him succinctly. "Im going to go wander a bit, see if anyone has alcohol this early.  Youve got him for now, yes?" 
 
"Yeah, just be back before they start the show at 6, please."

"Will do. Text me if you want me sooner."  She closed the door softly behind her.

"Blaine, Sweetie? Are you with me?"  Kurt asked the man in his arms, not caring that he was sniffling into his shirt. 

Blaine nodded, reluctantly letting go and sitting back on his heels. Kurt sighed.  "I shouldnt have brought you into this. I knew it was gonna be rough but I figured given your background youd be braced." 

"I am. I just..this is a different type of use then Im accustomed to. I dont think its any less or more horrible. Its just our handling at the hotel was fairly straightforward.  They get a little more...creative here than Im used to."  Blaine sighed.  "And yes, you should have brought me. I can handle it. I think Kitten just wanted me to see the worst of it at once, like pulling off a band-aid.  Im kind of glad she did, actually. Now I can anticipate and deal."

Kurt watched him with concern filled eyes. "If you want to bow out, you can. I dont give a hell about this. You can be a step away from the catwalk and turn right around and hop back off."

Blaine sat next to the designer, hugging him. "You really are amazing. And yes, you do give a hell. What would Rachel do on the partner walk if Im not there?"

Kurt snorted. "If anyone can rock a duo walk by herself, its Rachel."  He hesitated a second.  "Do you know what you were thanking me for when you came in?"

"What? That? Oh, umm, well. I think it was for just...being you. For not doing any of the things I saw, and despite what youre going to say, yes, you absolutely could. You take such amazing care of me. So, I guess that was it. I wasnt really thinking all that clearly." 

Kurts eyes dropped.  "Youre welcome, I suppose. And I get what you mean. But if you think Im physically or mentally capable of doing any of that shit to anyone, then you dont really know me at all." 

Radiating hurt, Kurt stood to walk away. Before he could take a step Blaine was on him, hugging tight.  "I dont, Kurt. Not even for a minute. Im sorry I said it like that." 

Kurt sniffed against Blaines shoulder. Hed never been one to hold back the waterworks.  "Mostly, things here arent that bad.  And less then a quarter of the models are slaves, anyway. Most designers dont think they can manage the right attitude for the catwalk."

"Well, I saw the twins. And I met Sebastian."

"Ouch.  That girl doesnt pull her punches. And Sebastian is still here? Wow, that meerkat just lingers on."  Relaxing his stiff posture, Kurt gently disengaged from Blaine and returned to organizing for the show. He scooped up the vest hed been working on and set it on a hanger. The button was fine.

Blaine sat on a sofa, content to watch Kurt work. He certainly had no desire to set foot out of the room again until he absolutely had to.  "So, you know Sebastians story?"

"Everyone does. It was all the rage for ages. Like we dont have enough drama."  Kurt snorted.  "Unfortunately for him, its probably why hes still here. His very presence still creates some buzz. But any attention sent his direction is unlikely to be comfortable."

Blaine nodded. He grabbed a coke from the ice filled bin on the table.  "The um, the model Sebastian blinded. Do you know what became of him, by any chance?" 

"Actually, yes. I do. Please dont go around sharing this; its not common knowledge and I dont want to reignite old gossip. And that includes ninja felines."  Blaine grinned at that.

Despite her obnoxious methods, Blaine very much liked Kitten. She didn"t sugar coat anything and treated him like everyone else hed seen her interact with, a rough affection flavored heavily with sarcasm. It was refreshing. He adored Kurt, loved him with a vengence, but Kurt sometimes treated him a little too gently, like he was damaged. Admittedly, he was, but that didnt mean he needed kid gloves all the time.

"So, you want to know about Nicholas. I ran into him a year or so ago at a smaller show with his current owner, Jeff.  Jeff had been one of the assistants to a now-defunct clothing line during that whole fiasco. Jeff changed careers; hes a florist now, if I recall.   Anyway, they came to see the show.  Both seemed relaxed.   I talked to Nicholas for a bit while Jeff was occupied.  He never did get sight back in one of his eyes. It wouldve needed surgery to correct and his original owner had been unwilling to put the money into him.  Jeff wouldve, I think, but by the time he actually took possession of him the damage was permanent. Nicholas told me it didnt make too much of a difference and Jeff loved it when he wore his eye patch."  Kurt smiled fondly at the memory. The slave had seemed well cared for and happy.

Blaine was gratified to hear that at least something positive had come out of that situation. He felt bad for Sebastian, despite the mans nasty demeanor and previous actions.  And the way Kurt talked about the two men, master and slave, content together.  It made Blaine question his beliefs about certain impossibilities.