Glee Fic: What A Sight

Mar 25, 2013 18:42

Title: What a Sight
Summary: Part of my animal verse. Kurt agrees to take part in a little extra something for Vogue and it all just kind of snowballs from there.
Rating: PG-13
Words: 4,820
A/N: Sorry for the long wait everyone. But I had like four of these going on and I wasn't sure which one to finish. I think the next one up will be pretty exclusively about Rachel and her transformation. This one however jumps forward a bit. Meaning they'd be in season four of glee rather than three. But that doesn't mean I'm done with the high school chapters.

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More than anything Kurt wishes that he wasn't so hard on Rachel over the whole artistic nude thing. Because what he was doing right now was steadily creeping away from artistic nudes to fetish soft core pron way faster than he thought possible. So really, more than amending his previous indignation, he really, really wishes that Rachel never gets the urge to search for pig fetish videos. There's no point in denying that's what it is. Oh God, how did he even get here?

Isabelle Wright, that's how. Even though he was a full time student at NYADA he couldn't bring himself to quit his job at Vogue. It was a dream come true. And Isabelle was amazing. She was a cat, because of course she's in the fashion industry, but she didn't bat an eye at him when he expressed an interest in working at Vogue. She too was a fan of Lisa Fonssagrives and flattered him by saying he held a striking resemblance to her. Kurt was hard pressed to ever say no to her. Especially when his home life was spiraling out of control.

Rachel was a weeping mess, still distraught over being completely human. And with a baby on the way she was impossible to console. Santana was beginning to grate on his nerves more than ever. Her snooping, while helpful when directed at Brody, made him feel violated when directed at him. Things with Blaine were strained too. It was hard not seeing him everyday. There were a few weeks, the longest weeks of Kurt's life, when he had thought Blaine had cheated on him. He blamed their lack of communication. And Blaine's tendency to pile on his own guilt. It still hurt to know that Blaine had gone to some guys house, especially after all the hell Blaine raised over Chandler, but nothing happened. Blaine ran out crying and life moved on. But still couldn't help the occasional whisper in the back of his mind that said Blaine could do better than some pig from Lima.

Kurt was letting his thoughts get away from him. He should be more focused on the cameras. Kurt tilted his head to the side and relaxed his face. He was currently sprawled across a circular bed covered in shimmering silver sheets. He was wearing nothing but a pair of skimpy baby pink spandex boy shorts and a pair of black ankle boots. In his hand was a shinning red apple. His hair was tousled and his cheeks were dusted pink and his eyes lined with heavy chol. He felt like he was shooting promotional stills for a porno. Instead he was taking part in a risque shoot for Vogue all about shoes and embracing your inner animal. No matter how different that animal may be.

Every year Vogue did something to show the masses that you didn't have to be a cat or a rabbit to get into fashion or to feel good about yourself. It didn't stop the industry from being dominated by cats and rabbits, but it gave people hope. It had certainly helped Kurt from time to time. When Isabelle had asked him to be a part of this years event he had agreed without thought. Oh if only he had asked for details first. This year's event wasn't a runway show or a charity dinner. It wasn't a music video or a concert. This year Vogue decided to do nearly nude calendars. Where's the fashion in that you ask? The shoes. Isabelle and the others at Vogue justified this soft core porn shoot by saying the focus was on the shoes when the focus was very clearly on the swell of Kurt's butt and the upturn of his snout.

The man behind the camera, a bored looking beaver, kept telling Kurt to twist and own the light. He urged Kurt to arch his back and turn up his face so that the peak of his snout drew the eye back to his eyes. Pout your lips more Kurt. Push out your butt. No, no, not like that. This isn't a mail order bride catalog. Stretch and show off your stomach. Stretch, stretch, ARCH. Beautiful. Showcase the apple. Use the pillows. Not once did he mention the boots. Which, Kurt had to admit, where gorgeous. But Isabelle was sitting off to the side, watching the pictures come up on the computer. She didn't have any objections. Against his better judgment Kurt let himself be guided by the photographer. He trusted Isabelle to do the right thing, to only choose something tasteful.

It didn't make him any more comfortable in these underwear though. Kurt huffed and pulled the fabric down farther on his butt. Then he had to adjust it back up a little and ended up just scooting off the bed altogether to fix it. He completely ignored the photographer. He was an intern, not a model. Two seconds after he was up people crowded in his space, plucking at his underwear and fussing with his hair. Kurt took several deep breaths through his nose and tried to keep calm. He thought he was doing pretty good too, until someone grabbed his tail. Kurt beat down the instinctual squeal, and was only half successful. The makeup woman jumped back and Kurt kicked off the boots. Barefoot he stomped over to his yoga pants and hoodie, yanking them both on. Then he was storming out of the shoot before Isabelle could call him back.

Face drawn in anger and feeling wound too tight, Kurt storms away from the shoot. He had ridden with Isabelle and only had his phone on him. They'd been running late and in his hurry he'd left his wallet on Isabelle's counter. They'd shared a pot of coffee before the shoot to calm Kurt's nerves. Fat lot of help that did. Kurt made it three blocks from the shoot before he stopped to tie his shoes. He was in a great neighborhood, Upper East Side. It was all pent houses and mansions. Kurt hoped to live here some day. Preferably with Blaine at his side and a couple of Broadway shows under his belt. Or at least a runway show.

Kurt allowed himself a few moments to look around in peace. It was remarkably quiet. Probably something the residents paid extra for. With a sigh Kurt looked down at himself in comparison. He was in yoga pants and a hoodie. He was wearing his workout shoes. He was a pig way out of his comfort zone. Kurt pulled his hood up over his head to shield his face. Inside his pocket he clutched his phone like a lifeline. Then he looked down at his feet and made his way towards downtown. He didn't think he'd make it too far before Isabelle found him. But he could at least attempt to keep some dignity. He was a New Yorker now. A little walk wouldn't kill him.

And he was right. The walk wasn't so bad. The subway had even been blissfully empty of beggars and perverts. He was not so lucky when he got home. Rachel had found out about the shoot. Or more accurately her nosy possible drug dealer boyfriend had found out about the shoot and blabbed. Honestly Kurt was surprised Santana hadn't been the one to let the cat out of the bag so to speak. She was sitting off to the side like she was watching a particularly interesting play.

“I can not BELIEVE that you would-“

“Shut up Rachel. Just SHUT UP.”

“Don't tell her to shut up!”

“Don't even start with me Duce Bigalo.” From there everyone was yelling at everyone, even Santana who had jumped in to defend Kurt the second things turned on Brody. Everyone was screaming. Rachel started in on the photo shoot then she touched on every minute, miniscule thing she ever wanted to yell about and let loose. She raged about how Kurt decorated the apartment and how he didn't share food. She yelled about his classes and his relationships with his professors. Then she yelled about his job. Apparently she didn't find it fair at all that he was working at Vogue while she was stuck as a waitress in a coffee house that wouldn't let her use the mic.

“You're so high and mighty when you talk to me that you can't see that you're spiraling out of control. New York eats gays up and spits them out. The least you could do is not whore yourself out along the way. Have some sense. You're a pig for God's sake.” It was clear by the look in Rachel's eyes that she wasn't fully there with them. She was stuck somewhere in her rage and on her craft. Kurt could practically see her trying to imagine a script in her eyes. It wasn't enough to save her though. Even Brody seemed to recognize that she'd gone too far. Kurt's face relaxed as he pushed all of his emotions deep down inside. He tilted his jaw up, showing off his snout just like the photographer had taught him.

“Get out.”

Rachel blinked. Her fired quelled and she looked at Kurt in fear. “Kurt, I'm paying rent-“

“Get out. Go stay with Brody. Crawl back in bed with Finn. Sleep in the dance room at NYADA. I don't care where you go.” Kurt turned away from her, brushing past a quiet Santana, and took down the partition separating Rachel's room from the rest of the flat. Then he went behind his curtain and laid in bed. His phone was still in his hoodie pocket. He clutched it to his chest while Rachel packed and cried. It was a decision long time coming. When he'd first moved to New York he was in desperate need of a roommate to split the cost of rent. He was scared and alone in a big new city. Rachel was the perfect solution. But she was selfish. She only thought about herself, she didn't know how to budget anything, and she was constantly jabbing at his shaky self-esteem. With Santana living with him there was really no need to keep Rachel there. As annoying and invasive as Santana could be, she'd been remarkably helpful and understanding while in New York. Getting away from Lima had been good for her.

When their front door shut and the shuffling stopped Kurt pressed the phone to his mouth and let himself cry. He cried until his tears rolled into his ears and his head ached. Then he called Blaine. His bouncing ball of energy answered with a cheerful hello and immediately started babbling about the goings on in glee club. He and Sam were trying to raise more money for prom. Which was leaning towards a 1950's theme. Kurt let out a watery chuckle and pressed his knuckle to his lips. He wanted Blaine to keep talking about flapper dresses and Sam's growing collection of tear away clothes. But the damage was done. There was no way he'd ignore the sound of tears in Kurt's ears.

“What's the matter?”

Kurt's lip trembled. He took a deep breath in through his nose and let it out of his mouth slowly. The sound of it rushed past the phone and had Blaine on the edge of his seat. “I kicked Rachel out.” Blaine makes a noise. Kurt isn't sure if it's sad or surprised. “We argued. She said something and...it was just...”

“Enough.”

Kurt huffed out a breath and cleared his sticking throat. “Yeah.” For a while they just listened to each other breath. Every now and then Kurt would hear rustling like Blaine was adjusting himself on the bed. More than anything he wished Blaine could be in his bed. He wanted to cuddle up against his boyfriend and trade little kisses. He wanted to bump his lips on Blaine's huge teeth and rub his thumb over Blaine's fluffy little tail.

The sound of a door, small and quiet through the speakers of Kurt's phone. Blaine didn't say anything but Kurt knew it meant Blaine had to go. A sob escaped Kurt's lips and he started crying again. “Oh honey no. No, no. It's going to be okay. We'll see each other soon. Next weekend.”

“Y...you're coming next weekend?”

“Spring break. I've been saving for months to get a ticket. I wanted it to be a surprise but...”

“I love you. So much.”

Kurt could almost see the smile on Blaine's face, the way his eyes got all big and shiny. “I love you too Kurt. We're going to Skype tomorrow. Maybe watch a movie together.” Kurt agreed and reluctantly let Blaine hang up. He laid there for a while, swaddling himself in his blankets and drying his tears on his pillow. Kurt staid like that until his phone rang again. He answered it eagerly, expecting to hear Blaine's happy voice. Instead he heard a very cautious Isabelle.

“I thought you might need some space.”

“Yeah.”

Isabelle sighed and Kurt heard her tapping her nails on something. “I didn't know you'd be that uncomfortable Kurt. You should have told me. Your job isn't going anywhere. Do you know why I hired you?”

“My impeccable fashion sense?”

“Well yes, of course. But your honesty too. You are so honest. In this industry there are so many people ready to kiss my ass I don't know who I should tell to pucker up next. But not you.”

Kurt smirked and kicked his legs until they were free from the tangle of his blankets. “What does that have to do with anything.”

“I thought you were honest about everything. When you said you were okay with doing the shoot I thought you meant it.”

“It wasn't the shoot. It was the...it was me. About me being a pig...it's just...a sore spot. I was so sure I'd be a cat. When I found out I wasn't I had a really hard time.”

Isabelle made a noise like an upset mother. Kurt could picture her golden ears lowering against her head in sadness. It made something curl in Kurt's stomach. In a lot of ways she was very much like his mother. “You shouldn't be ashamed of being a pig Kurt. You're smart. You're fashionable. And it may make you a little uncomfortable to hear it but if you were straight and I were a few years younger I have to admit that I'd make a hell of a go for you.” She starts laughing near the end but Kurt knows she's being genuine. She thinks he's attractive. She's said as much several times during their meetings. But he doesn't usually pay her much mind. She's a nice woman. “Kurt.”

“Hm?”

“I don't get final say on that calendar. My boss saw you and asked you to be in the calendar. The big bosses have even asked me how tall you are. They want you to model. The photographer wanted you to model. The make up girls. Trust me on this. You are a gift of beauty, pig or not.”

“Thank you.”

“Any time. Now what else has got you down? The Kurt Hummel I know would have put this all behind him with the flick of a scarf by now.”

Kurt wants to confess about what Rachel said. But Isabelle is his boss. As friendly as they are together Kurt can't bring himself to regale her with woes of his pregnant selfish roommate. So he tells her no and that he'll see her bright and early tomorrow. She tells him a mock up of the calendar will be ready by the time Blaine comes to visit. Not in so many words, but Kurt does the math quick enough. He'll have to take a good long hard look at his copy before he decides whether or not to show it to Blaine. Not that he can't just buy one himself.

Oh dear God. He was in his underwear taking photos for a calendar that's going to be sold. People are going to buy it. For a whole month people are going to be able to look at his nearly naked body. People are going to judge him and objectify him and...oh dear sweet lord he did not think things through. Kurt shot up on his bed, eyes wide. His father was in congress and he was taking graphic photos for sale. He was going to become one of those sad public stories about teenagers out of control wasn't he? Or worse he'd become the object of someone's creepy obsession. What if Karofsky bought one? Kurt groaned and collapsed back on the bed, wiggling on his front until he was in the center.

His curtains rustled to the side. The smell of a spicy perfume wafted under Kurt's nose. “Let's get chip faced.”

Kurt rolled over onto his back and cast a bored look over at Santana. “What?”

“Chip faced, Shit Faced's girlier and less appealing cousin. There's two and a half pints of Ben and Jerry's in the freezer and we're going to eat it all.”

Kurt groaned and threw his arm over his face. “I don't want to act like a pig right now.”

Santana tutted and grabbed Kurt by his yoga pants and tugged. He nearly fell completely out of bed. Kurt didn't bother holding back his squeal and snuffles. “We're not eating because you're a pig. We're eating because Rachel is a cow. Come on.” Santana prodded and bumped at him until he agreed to get up. He huffed and puffed but by the time he had a tub of Chubby Hubby in his hands he was feeling better. Santana was next to him with some Funky Monkey. The half finished pint was not Ben and Jerry's but some obscure organic vegan brand that they planned to share and devour out of spite.

Together with their ice cream they made it though “The Money Pit” before Kurt thought about his day again. “Do you think I made a mistake?”

Santana propped her feet up on the table then yanked bits of her tail out from under Kurt's butt. She jabbed her spoon aggressively into her now empty pint and shook her head. “You're an adult Kurt. I've watch you grow from a sexless cabbage patch doll into a confident gay sex symbol. What you did was for charity. And I'm sure it was tasteful. Your boss is like a soccer mom okay. Don't worry about little miss bitter.”

Kurt nods. Coming from Santana it feels like salvation. She's not one to mince words, especially about something like this. If she thought she could one up him on this, come out the better example of a person she would. But she said it was no big thing. She made him feel a little empowered by his decision. So what if Karofsky bought his calendar? What were his chances of even coming across one? He didn't exactly troll the Vogue homepage looking for twinks. And his dad wouldn't care. Isabelle would pick a tasteful photo. And it was for charity. All the proceeds went to help teens get through their transformations. Like kids who get kicked out or need operations to adapt to life post transformation. Kurt was growing up. He wasn't that scared chubby faced bullied kid anymore. He was an out and proud New Yorker with a wonderful job and a great body.

For the next week Kurt pushed the calendar from his mind. Isabelle tried to tease him about it from time to time over coffee. He moved from furious blushing to good natured eye rolls. He still felt intimidated. Every time he tried to come to peace with it in his mind a little thought popped up that reminded him he hadn't actually seen the picture. Or heard what anyone thought about it for that matter. And speaking of not hearing anything, Rachel had yet to call or stop back by the apartment. As much as it stung, it was a blessing. It was better for everyone that they had a clean break. Kurt wasn't one hundred percent on Brody but he knew that Rachel wouldn't let herself live in subpar conditions. If things went south she'd call her dads and cry in an instant.

With so many things occupying his mind it came as no real shock that he'd forgotten what day Blaine would arrive. He just barely made it to the airport in time to pick him up. Out of breath and red faced Kurt opened his arms and was immediately assaulted by a hyperactive rabbit. Blaine wrapped his arms and legs around him and clung. He smelt like coffee and books and something Kurt could only think of as Lima. “I missed you.”

Blaine tucked his face closer into Kurt's neck, his nose twitching and rubbing across the skin there. “I missed you too. So much.” Together they shared a quiet moment, holding each other and letting the crowds pass by without a thought. When they broke apart it wasn't because someone said something nasty. It was because they were ready. Hand in hand Kurt led Blaine through the airport and out into a taxi. Blaine tactfully didn't bring up the new rooming situation, instead keeping things in the vein of music or people back home. During the car ride Kurt discovered that even with most of the original members gone glee still proved to be a chaotic pool of incessant dating and squabbling.

“Well, this is it.” Kurt dropped Blaine's duffel to the floor and spread his arms out in presentation. Santana was out at the moment, probably still picking up things to decorate her area of the apartment with. Kurt watched Blaine take it all in, his ears and tail ruffling in curiosity.

“Kurt...this is amazing. It's so much better than in Skype.”

Kurt wrings his hands together and bobs his nose. “It's not much I know. Not the really the glamorous-“ Kurt stopped. Blaine was pressed against his front laying little kisses all across his face. The feel of overly large teeth made him smile.

“It's amazing. Really. Completely glamorous and very Kurt Hummel.” Blaine held onto the sides of Kurt's face and went in for a quick kiss. Kurt relaxed into it and ended up pulling Blaine to the couch for a proper make out. They lost themselves in the feel of each other, warm bodies and wriggling tails. Kurt indulged in sucking on Blaine's upper lip and Blaine reacquainted himself with the sensitive spots along Kurt's neck. They breathed heavy and rubbed together. They let their hands wander and their hips rut. It built and built into a frenzy until they were sagging together against the couch in a tired heap.

Far from letting the lethargy ruin their evening, they turned their attention to the DVR. Kurt had hours of trash tv stored up for them to watch together. For the next couple of hours they sat tucked into each other and watched big haired woman scream at each other and try on shoes. It was the most fun Kurt had had in a while.

During a break where Blaine was furiously digging through Kurt's cabinets for something suitably crunchy to snack on, someone knocked on the door. Kurt passed behind Blaine, running his palms across Blaine's lower back and kissing his neck. “I'll get it. Try the top self behind the bags of gummy bears.” Kurt hurried to the door, hoping it wasn't Rachel or Brody. His day was going so well. It would be just like them to swoop in and ruin it. Kurt opened the door with a forced grin and promptly relaxed. The vengeful ghost of roommates past wasn't knocking on his door. It was a gangly bike messanger with a manilla envelope.

“Mr. Kurt Hummel?”

“That'd be me.” The bike messenger nodded and kept going, probably along with the music coming from his headphones. He held out a signing pad. On his wrist was a wring of feathers. Kurt tried to discreetly look around his body to check what kind of bird he was. Far from being offended, the messenger cocked his hips to the side showing off a plum of ostrich feathers. How fitting. Kurt smiled and wiggled his snout in return then handed back the tablet.

“You have a nice day now.” Kurt took the manila envelope and told him to do the same. It wasn't as heavy as it looked. He flipped it over on it's front and saw Isabelle's scrawling hand. It was the calendar. It had to be. Kurt hugged the package to his chest and scurried over to the couch. He sat with the envelope held to his chest. In no time at all Blaine was skipping back into the living room and bouncing back onto the couch. In his hands was a bowl of cheddar chex mix.

“Ooh, what's that?”

“Ah well...” Kurt fiddled with the edges of the envelope. “I did a little favor for Isabelle. I volunteered to have my photo taken and well...” Kurt opened up the envelope and slowly slid out the calendar. Beside him Blaine made an excited noise and set aside the bowl.

“You're in the Inner Animal Appreciation calendar?”

Kurt's head snapped to the side. He hadn't mentioned the photo shoot or the calendar to Blaine. Ever. “Yeah. I'm February I think. Maybe March.” Kurt passed it along to Blaine, mouth open. “How?”

Blaine stroked his fingers over the glossy cover of the calendar. It simply said Vogue. Free Your Inner Animal. At Kurt's question Blaine looked up. There was a small smile on his face and his eyes were soft. “I keep up with Vogue.com.”

“Really?”

“Well besides the fact that I've had a Vogue subscription since I was six, I have a personal interest in the website.”

Kurt smirked and slid closer to Blaine. “Is that so?”

“Hm. My very sexy boyfriend works there. Maybe you've seen him? Read his column?”

Kurt giggles and lightly smacks Blaine on the arm. Then he hooks his chin on his shoulder and nudges him to open the calendar. He still hasn't seen himself yet. They had done so many poses Kurt wasn't even sure he could ballpark a guess. January was a dark skinned Indian man with amazing curls. He was a snow hare. His white fur stood out starkly against his skin and the dark blue nightclub background he was standing in. Kurt and Blaine both made an appreciative noise and lingered probably a little longer than necessary. Unlike Kurt, he'd been wearing a rather tiny speedo. He was wearing calve height white boots. Not a traditionally male choice but Kurt could see himself wearing them. When Blaine finally shook his head and turned the page it was like freeing themselves from hypnosis.

February was Kurt. It was startling, seeing himself sprawled out like that. He was partially off the bed, like he was sliding out. He was on his stomach, looking over his raised shoulder. His nose was delicately turned up and you could see the smallest hints of his pout. The way he was supporting himself made his arm muscles bulge and the vein there stand out. You could just barely see the apple clutched in his fist through the crumpled silver bedspread. His one leg was drawn up, letting the light catch his black ankle boot. The sight of it however, was dwarfed by Kurt's butt with was so very round and about to spill out of the clingy pink boyshorts. Kurt was at least happy to see that they matched the pink of his nose wonderfully. He tilted his head to the side, really looking at himself. If he could just block out his face he would have drooled over it just like Mr. January.

“It's...”

“You're so beautiful.” Blaine was breathy when he spoke, like it was a precious secret. It made Kurt blush fiercely.

“Well...no, I look o-“

Blaine turned, calendar still in hand, until he could face Kurt properly. “You're amazing. You look...God Kurt you look like you're in some GQ spread. It's...how did I get so lucky?” Blaine took Kurt's face in his hands. He pressed kiss after kiss to Kurt's slack mouth, urging him for more. When Kurt felt Blaine's too large teeth clamp on his bottom lip and tug he whimpered. Kurt let out a breath and leaned forward, cupping Blaine's elbows and back with his hands then pushing forward until they were prone on the couch. The calendar slid to the floor forgotten for the moment.

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Originally this was suppose to be pretty funny. But I got into a huge fight with my mom and well I'm not feeling very humorous. But I think the calendar will pop up again. Sorry that I don't actually have any art to go along with the description. If I were a better artist I'd give it a go but I don't want to balls it up.

blaine anderson, animalverse, klaine, fic, kurt hummel

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