Kurt regarded himself in the cloudy reflection of his full length mirror, and sighed a long, defeated sigh. He tugged on his jacket, frowning disapprovingly at the worn seams. He tightened his belt and twisted his pants a little to the left, then a little to the right. He pulled them up at the knees an inch, examining the microscopically frayed hems. His shoes, however, sparkled, polished to perfection, gleaming like a brand new penny, which only further emphasized how disgraceful everything else looked.

"That's it!" Kurt announced. "I'm not going! I refuse to be seen out in public like this!"

"What!?" a voice exclaimed from the hallway. "But, you've been waiting for this autograph signing since last year! I got the day off, we got the car tuned up, you've saved every cent you could spare. You have to go!"

Kurt huffed, annoyed that no one else seemed to understand his dilemma. He quietly considered, then reconsidered his outfit. Then he dropped down on the edge of his bed and looked at himself some more. He just didn’t look fit to go out on the town. What he looked like was a vagrant. He might as well get himself a cardboard box and a sign to complete the ensemble.

The bedroom door opened a crack, and a hazel eye peeked through.

"Love? Can I come in?"

"Yeah. Sure. Come on in,” Kurt groaned. “Bring the whole crew in with you while you're at it, because I'm not going."

Kurt didn't look up as soft footsteps padded in, and a figure settled beside him, causing the mattress to tilt. A hand rested on his knee, careful not to wrinkle the fabric of Kurt's only remaining Alexander McQueen suit.

"Kurt, you know you want to go. And despite what you think" - Approving eyes appraised him with appreciation - "you look incredible."

"I wear this to every dress up function," Kurt lamented. He hadn’t intended on whining, but he felt a little foolish, and disheartened at his current predicament. "It's so two years ago."

A comforting arm circled Kurt's shoulders.

"But, doesn't that make it vintage?"

Kurt sighed. "No. In order for it to be vintage, it has to be at least ten years old, if not older. Good try, though."

Kurt looked at himself in despair, but his eager partner refused to give up.

"Why not wear some of your work clothes? You designed those, and they're amazing!"

Kurt turned to look the man sitting beside him full in the face.

"I know you're trying, really. But I can't wear my work clothes. They're not exactly ... uh ... appropriate."

"Well, no, not all of them." The face inches from Kurt's blushed. "But, you could take some of your own pieces, mix them with your McQueen, and come up with a style of your own, right? That could be ... something ..."

Kurt's eyes widened. His smile - long forgotten as he grieved over his outdated clothes - brightened his face.

"Dave Karofsky, you're speaking Vogue!" Kurt planted a kiss on Dave's cheek, and Dave blushed even more. Gone were the days of the icy glares and deathly scowls. The Dave Karofsky that Kurt lived with was compassionate and selfless, always there to lend a hand when necessary, and knew when to offer his opinion.

He also knew when to stay out of Kurt’s way. 

Kurt started sifting through his closet, looking for something appropriate for a night time affair.

"Oh, if only I had my vintage navy blue fitted suit from McQueen's 1996 spring/summer collection ..."

"You mean that vampire thing?"

Kurt chuckled to himself. Dave might be rough around the edges, but he tried so hard sometimes.

"Yeah,” Kurt said. “It was one of my fav-- well, all my McQueens were my favorite, but that one, ah ... there was just something about it that was so dark and mysterious. It would totally go with everything I ..."

Kurt stopped when he felt a sleeve of fabric brush his arm. He turned his head to see a sheepish Dave holding a velvet covered hanger, and hanging from it, Kurt’s vintage navy blue McQueen.

"What ... where did you get this?" Kurt asked in awe, touching the suit as though it could disappear any second.

"I felt so bad when you had to auction off your McQueen collection to help us pay the rent," Dave explained, reverently handing over the garment. "I knew this one was your favorite, so I kept it."

"I thought the guy at the eBay store had taken it." Kurt suddenly felt guilty. "I ran down there and yelled at Mario until he gave us his whole commission."

Dave shrugged. He felt guilty about that, too. He had had every intention of telling Kurt beforehand, but after he saw how Kurt tore into that man, Dave decided he’d rather live instead. Besides, that was over $3,000 Kurt got back from the guy. Dave knew that keeping it wouldn’t sit well with his conscience, seeing as he knew that Mario, working two jobs and with a family to support, needed it just as badly as they did. But Dave forced himself to be selfish. Since they had less than nothing at the time, there was no way he was telling Kurt the truth and risk having him return the money.

It was a byproduct of being so blisteringly poor. It came down to his family, or Mario’s, and Dave chose his own. He hated to admit it, but if he had to, he would do it again.

Kurt laid the suit down on the bed, and threw himself into Dave's arms.

"Thank you." Kurt squeezed his eyes tight against the tears he felt welling up behind his eyelids. Dave's arms encircled Kurt's waist and held him.

"You're very welcome," Dave said, breathing in the jasmine scent of Kurt's shampoo.

Dave, uncharacteristically, was the first to let go.

"Now get this suit on, and come out and show us the old Kurt Hummel, hmm? He's been gone for a while, and I kind of miss him."

Kurt smiled, and Dave placed a kiss to Kurt's cheek. He took a moment to soak in the affection in Kurt's eyes, then left him alone to change.

To Dave's surprise, barely thirty minutes went by before Kurt stepped out of their bedroom. He absolutely glowed in his glorious vintage suit and meticulously crafted Kurt Hummel original silk shirt. Dave stood from the sofa, overwhelmed by what could have been an 18-year-old Kurt Hummel standing in front of him. But the man standing before him now looked a lot more poised and elegant, more comfortable in his body. If possible, Dave fell more in love with him than he had been moments ago. Kurt gave them a spin in his polished leather shoes, and received a thunderous round of applause from their motley crew - one lanky, too-tall for his age boy, and two tomboyish little girls. The fourth child, a two-year-old girl nestled in Dave's arms, kept quiet, down for her nap despite the noise. Kurt always thought that girl could sleep through anything, and every day, living in a house full of kids who didn’t understand the meaning of the words keep it down, she proved him right.

"Thank you, thank you," Kurt said, bowing graciously low, "but I have to go if I am going to beat the traffic."

"Yes, yes," the boy said, feigning spite, "go off to L.A. and see your man."

Dave stifled a chuckle, knowing Junior was just repeating the words he himself had used to tease Kurt countless times over the past few weeks.

"Oh, don't be like that," Kurt said, stooping to hold the boy by the arms, rubbing his thumbs over his biceps, but not pulling him in for a hug lest he wrinkle his suit. The children knew better than to wrinkle Kurt's clothes. Kurt didn’t have many designer outfits left, so it was considered a cardinal sin to do anything that might ruin them.

"You're not really going to run off with the hobbit man, are you?" Barbra, the next eldest, asked seriously. Kurt startled at the term hobbit, then turned an incredulous glare on Dave, who was doing a horrible job hiding his laughter.

"No," Kurt said. "I'm coming home either late tonight or tomorrow. I'm just going to go get his autograph."

"Fine," Junior huffed. "Because he can't have you."

"You wouldn't miss me." Kurt grinned. "You'd miss my maple walnut pancakes. Admit it."

"Well, duh." Junior's eyes lit up with his mocking smile. 'Eyes so much like his father's,' Kurt thought sadly, his smile faltering at the edges, but not enough for Junior to notice. Kurt shook his head, clearing those thoughts. If he took this time to dwell, he would burst into tears, and then he would be a mess. He kissed Junior on the forehead, and then again on the cheek as the boy playfully swatted him away. Kurt crouched to kiss Barbra and Eva, then he kissed Elphaba cradled in Dave's arms. The gesture didn’t wake her. Kurt took a moment to gaze into Dave's eyes with unvoiced gratitude, and kissed him chastely on the lips. Kurt grabbed his keys off the kitchen table, and headed for the back door. He hurried down the steps to the carport with Dave close at his heels.

"Soooo, are you excited to finally meet your man?" Dave teased the way he had dozens of times today alone, but Kurt detected a strange catch in Dave's tone. It sounded like worry ... or maybe even jealousy. 

"Of course," Kurt teased back, flattered that Dave could think that Kurt would even have a chance with a huge superstar. What did Dave honestly think would happen tonight? He would go to the signing, picture in hand. They would see each other, their eyes would meet, and it would be as if they were waiting for each other their entire lives. Then bam! Hot and heavy in a cheap hotel room. Kurt laughed out loud at the thought. As if! Well, he could always dream.

Dave, however, watching Kurt get wrapped up in that fantasy, and then sigh dreamily, did not seem amused. 

"How do we even know he's gay?" Dave asked, following Kurt to the car, shifting the sleeping toddler in his arms.

"Oh, sweetie…" Kurt put his overnight bag in the trunk of their tiny silver Suzuki Esteem. He lifted the lid with barely his fingertips, cursing himself for not getting it washed before he got dressed. He would rectify that on the way. He was not going to show up with three inches of dust on his car. "How long have we known each other, and your gay-dar is still a bit off? That man is as far in the closet as you were, hon. The only difference is he has a whole studio to keep him locked in there."

Kurt didn’t know why Dave cared, but he seemed sincerely concerned. "But, he's dating that chick from the show and ..."

Kurt turned his eyes on him, sparking with amusement. He arched an eyebrow and gave Dave a quizzical look, silently reminding him of his short lived high school relationship with their sort-of-friend Santana. Realization blossomed on Dave's face in the form of a hot blush to his cheeks.

"Point taken," Dave murmured. Kurt leaned in and kissed Dave on the cheek, then Elphaba on the forehead one more time.

"Take the little angel inside so the car doesn't wake her up. It might be the only thing that will, and you don’t want to take that chance. Otherwise, she’ll be up all night."

"Ok." Dave turned, but he was reluctant to leave. He reached the top step and stood by the door, but then he turned back to Kurt, who was trying to fold himself into the front seat of his car without messing up his suit.

"Have fun,” Dave called out, “just, don't leave us ... ok?"

Kurt thought for sure Dave was teasing, but when he turned to look at the man, his face had an expression Kurt couldn't decipher. Kurt smiled reassuringly, a slight upturn at the corner of his lips, but it still managed to transform his entire face.

"I won't, Dave," Kurt said. "I'm not going anywhere." 

Dave walked into the house, content with that as a response. When Kurt heard the lock turn, he mumbled to himself, "but don't wait up."

Kurt took a deep breath and closed his eyes against the loud squealing noise he knew would come when he turned the ignition key. How humiliating. He just prayed that the sound, but not the car, would die somewhere between San Diego and Los Angeles.