It was Kurt’s first big fashion show that he has been able to work on since being at Vogue. He’s been waiting for this show for months. So any hours spent planning in the board room with Isabelle and her team over which Avant Garde designers they were going to include, which models there was going to cast, which celebrities they were going to invite; it was all Kurt had talked about when he was at home in his tiny New York apartment with Blaine. Kurt had also spent months planning his and Blaine’s outfits that they were to wear at the show; Kurt going with a stone grey fitted suit with a discretely patterned blue tie, Blaine with a simple yet classy black suit with a purple shirt, opened at the collar.

Kurt arrived at the show three hours early, wearing a simple pair of jeans and a blue Henley, to help with any finishing touches that needed doing. He was standing in the middle of the room, just off to side of the hair and makeup stations were the models were being transformed from everyday to people to Avant Garde works of art when he was pulled around by his shoulder.

“We’ve been waiting for you,” a very stressed looking man huffed into Kurt’s face as he steered him towards an empty chair.

“No wait sir, I think you’ve got the wrong person,” Kurt tried to explain as a black cape was thrown over him and fastened at the back of his neck.

“I don’t have time for your excuses. Maria, he’s here,” the man shouted to a young woman who quickly walked over, pushing a small trolley and wearing gloves, “Get to work. We don’t have much time,” and before Kurt could open his mouth to protest again, Maria began brushing dye through his perfectly normal coloured hair.

By now Kurt was in too much shock to say anything and he knew that it was also too late to say anything. The dye let off a strong smell which indicated to Kurt that it was fast working, so even if he were to try and wash it out now, evidence would still remain.

“I’ll be back in ten minutes to wash you out. If it starts to burn, just let me know,” Kurt’s eyes popped at that last sentence, he knew what was happening now, what colour his beautiful hair was going to be. He pulled out his phone in a flash and sent a panicked text of help to the one person who may be able to get him out of this, and who would know who to call to help him get his hair back to its normal colour.

Help me! How far away are you?

Just stepping backstage now. Where are you?

Hair and makeup. Hurry!!!

“Kurt?” he heard Isabelle call as she stepped around the corner.

“Over here,” came his small voice. He couldn’t project it any louder as he was still in a slight state of shock.

“Oh my gosh Kurt, what happened?” Isabelle asked as she stepped in behind him and faced his reflection in the mirror.

“I don’t know,” Kurt shrugged under the nylon cape, “One minute I was thinking where I could find some silver thread for one of the designers and the next I was being pushed down in this seat and having bleach slapped across my head. Help me,” he pleaded. Isabelle stood silent for a moment and looked at hard at Kurt in the mirror again.

“No,” she simply stated.

“No?” Kurt squeaked.

“No, I’m not going to help you. As I was on my way over I got a text saying that one of the models dropped out and I was freaking out thinking who could replace him. Well, here he is,” she finished, smiling down at Kurt.

“Isabelle, I’m not a model,” Isabelle laughed.

“Kurt, you’re perfect for the job; you know how to walk, how to pose, you’ve got the perfect bitch glare, and now you’re about to have the hair for it. You’ll be fine, and I promise that when you come in to work on Monday I’ll have someone waiting to fix your hair back to as close as it normally looks ok?” Kurt nodded slowly. How bad could the rest of his styling be?

Turns out, pretty bad. He was taken by Maria over to the make-shift basins to have the bleach rinsed out and when he sat back down and faced his reflection he got a heck of a shock. His hair, instead of his usual chestnut brown, was now ice blond. Kurt had never seen hair so white. What really made him jump though was when he noticed what was in the hands of the other stylists.

Every other stylist who was doing a male model’s hair had a set of clippers in their hands, and as Kurt turned back to face himself in the mirror he noticed that Maria had picked up hers to. Kurt froze as she swiftly brought them up to his hair line at the base of his neck and pushed them up through his hair.

Kurt could feel tears forming in the corners of his eyes, but he wasn’t going to let himself cry, not in front of such professional models and famous designers. Right now people assumed him to be a model as well, so he had to act like one.

He sat still and only moved when he was asked while Maria brought the back and sides of his hair down to almost nothing. She then picked up her spray bottle and wet the top of his hair, combing it all forward over his forehead before bringing up her scissors and snipping his bangs off just above his eyebrows. She applied a large amount of hairspray before declaring that he was done and could now move on to makeup.

Kurt slowly rose from his chair after he was uncapped and did as he was told. He felt like he was moving on autopilot; not really sure what he was doing, but somehow doing it anyway. He sat down in another chair, in front of another mirror and another cape was tossed around him. The makeup artist smiled at him as she got to work, painting his face with various colours. The base colour was lighter than Kurt’s own skin tone, but he had to admit it did complement his new hair colour nicely, and every other feature on his face was left neutral except his eyes. The makeup artist began building up layer upon layer of colour around his eyes, working mostly with blues and greys. Beginning with grey as a base colour and adding in stripes of blue where necessary. The entire look was finished with a thick coating of black eyeliner around Kurt’s eyes and a healthy dose of mascara to bring everything together.

He was then rushed to wardrobe and dressed in a metallic blue suit with many bondage elements sewn in throughout. Thankfully the pants covered his intimate areas, but the jacket left little to the imagination. The entire piece was virtually constructed with strips of fabric, sewn together to form a jacket. Kurt thought it was beautiful, the true meaning of Avant Garde in his opinion. His porcelain skin was visible through the strips in the jacket which finished the look perfectly. His muscular body, which had thankfully shown up after puberty, meant that the jacket sat right on his shoulders, and bludged in all the right places.

When the designer’s assistant had finished dressing him and he was given the seal of approval, Kurt stood there looking at himself for a brief moment in the mirror. With his makeup finished, hair done and outfit on, he couldn’t believe how good it all looked together, he’ll admit that his haircut was ugly, and the colour was not something that he would have picked for himself, but when combined with the look as a whole, everything worked well and he thought for a moment that he actually looked quite attractive.

He was quickly snapped out of his moment when someone called out that there was five minutes until runway. Kurt searched frantically for his phone to fire off a quick text to Blaine.

Change of plans. I’ll see you after the show. Please don’t freak out. Love you xoxo

He didn’t have time to wait for a reply, before he was placed in line behind a rather tall black man, waiting for his turn to walk out onto the runway.

*

Blaine was sitting in his seat clutching his phone in his hands, waiting for anything from Kurt. It was now ten minutes until runway and he hadn’t heard from his boyfriend since they’d kissed goodbye at their apartment three hours earlier. Blaine would have been more panicked, but he knew that this was where Kurt belonged and he would have a good reason for running late. With five minutes left he felt his phone buzz and he almost dropped it in his haste to unlock the screen.

Change of plans. I’ll see you after the show. Please don’t freak out. Love you xoxo

‘Please don’t freak out’ what was that supposed to mean? Blaine thought as a million different scenarios flashed through his mind as to where Kurt might be and why he had to change his plans. He ultimately decided on the fact that Kurt was probably needed backstage and settled into his seat to watch the show.

The lights went down and the music started as the first models stepped out on to the runway, followed by a polite round of applause from the audience. Blaine was admiring the coat worn by a tall black male model, when he spotted the fair skinned model step out behind him. Something about this model seemed familiar, and it wasn’t until he turned at the end of the runway and his eyes met Blaine’s, that Blaine let out an internal gasp. He would know those blue eyes anywhere. That male model was Kurt; but before Blaine got a good look, he was gone from the runway. Blaine let out a quite sound of annoyance at the disappearance of Kurt, but it wasn’t long before he was back out in a second outfit, this time wearing nothing but a pair of bandage shorts in the same fabric as the suit he had previously worn.

It took all of Blaine’s strength, not to let his jaw hang open. Kurt looked positively fuckable in those shorts, Blaine would admit that the hair could have been styled better, but the makeup around his eyes was so hot. Blaine struggled slightly in his seat, trying to conceal his growing crotch from the people sitting on either side of him. He couldn’t wait to get Kurt home.

Blaine stood and cheered loudly in the crowd as the models made their way down the runway for the final time, shortly followed by the designer. Blaine was the first one out of his seat, rushing to the door of the backstage area, and flashing his V.I.P badge before the security guard, who let him in with a nod. It didn’t take long to find the designers area where Kurt was, as all of the male models undressing had white hair. He spotted Kurt in an instance, pulling his jeans on and stepped up behind him, wrapping his arms around his waist.

“Who knew what a sexy model you make,” Blaine whispered softly into Kurt’s right ear, pressing a kiss behind it. Kurt turned around in Blaine’s arms and smiled at him.

“How does it feel to be dating a model Mr. Anderson?” Kurt asked in a slightly lower tone than his usual.

“Feels like I should be taking advantage of it,” Blaine grinned as he pressed his lips against Kurt’s, trying to push his tongue into Kurt’s mouth.

“Blaine,” Kurt whispered quietly as he pulled away, “Not here. Let me ask Isabelle if I can go and then when we get home you can have your way with me,” Kurt winked as he linked his hand with Blaine’s and dragged him off to find his boss.

Isabelle took one look at the lust in both of Kurt and Blaine’s eyes and told them both to go and have a good night, and that a stylist would be waiting for Kurt Monday morning to fix his hair.

The cab ride home was quick, and before either man knew it, they were pressing each other up against various surfaces in their apartment, trying to create as much friction as possible.

Blaine ran his fingers through Kurt’s hair, messing up his bangs.

“Kurt,” Blaine breathed between kisses, “Your hair. Looks so good”, each sentence punctuated with a kiss.

“What?” Kurt asked in shock as he pulled away from Blaine, leaving Blaine mouthing at his neck, “You think my hair looks good?”

“Does now that I’ve messed it up,” Blaine breathed against his neck, moving down slightly to suck at Kurt’s collarbone.

“You do know that I’m dying it back on Monday, right sweetie?” his knees were threatening to give way under the touch of Blaine’s tongue and his admission that he liked Kurt’s bleached blond hair.

“I know,” Blaine nodded, “But can we please have sex now while you still look hot as fuck from that fashion show, your eyes are killing me,” Blaine pleaded, moving his head up to meet Kurt’s bright blue eyes, still highlighted by the insane amount of colour around them.

“If you insist,” Kurt smiled as he let out a squeal of surprise as Blaine lifted him up, allowing Kurt to wrap his legs around Blaine’s waist, and carried him into their bedroom.

Monday was only two days away, but for now Blaine was going to enjoy snow-white Kurt, as many times as he could.