Author's Note/ Yes, Blaine is a little out of character at the start of this fic. That is quite intentional so don't hate me because he's not exactly like he is in the show because he will be, in time. I've just gone for a slightly different approach, just read it before you make assumptions. There will be happy Klaine but for now, there needs to be a little diversity from the generic fic, right?

Hell Hole

February 5th 2013

"Hello, Vogue_com, can I help you?"

A whirr of frantic tones, telephone rings and a faint buzz of a photocopier. It was all happening in the office that day. The reason? New York fashion week was to commence in two days. Of course, the effect on an employee would depend on the place they sat on the social hierarchy of the fashion magazine. But, whether you were a janitor or editor in chief, you knew fashion week was approaching as you couldn't even be in an elevator with someone without receiving a headache from their incessant panicking. The usual claps of stilettos on marble had quickened in pace over the last two weeks, everyone seemed to be in a desperate rush to get to where they need to be. Well, it's understandable once you realise how much is on the line. The website would be responsible for blogging the entire goings on, posting photos from every single event and most importantly, keeping the rest of the world informed on what could only be described as the most important event in fashion. Responsibilities were assigned to every single person working underneath the ceiling, and if said person failed to deliver, they could kiss their career goodbye prematurely. The rumour circulating is that only last year, an employee spelt Cavalli wrong in a photo caption and now, she works at McDonald's. Isabelle Wright was trying to remain calm, hoping her sanity would hold out for another nine days then she could sleep for a month. Of course, she had to be at every single meeting and every single runway and every single party. The girl had a lot to think about. So, of course, she had to have someone to handle some of the work- in fact, she had three.

Miss Wright's three assistants included a short, red haired, bubbly character with the nickname of Dusty; Travis, a 6ft 3 blonde young man with black rimmed glasses and retro dress sense and a newly appointed enthusiastic bright spark: Kurt Hummel. Previously an intern, Isabelle had been so impressed with Kurt's keen eye for fashion that she appointed him as her third assistant at the start of the year. Only 19 and already employed under one of the top names in Vogue; the boy's done good.

"Yes, yes, we'll make sure it's sent... okay, thank you, bye," he groaned and threw his forehead onto his fists.

"Cheer up, could be worse," Travis chuckled, reaching over Kurt's desk to grab a mug to pour his black coffee into.

"Could it? Could it really?" Kurt's eye line stayed lifted, staring up at his friend like he'd said the most ludicrous thing in history.

"Well, someone's had a bad day," as the sandy haired man perched on the end of the small, yet chic desk, he tentatively balanced his lips on the rim of the mug as he waited for the long rant that was sure to come. His comment almost went unheard due to the sound of a squeal from an almost passed out worker, luckily she managed to detect the glass door was actually there before she slammed into it.

Kurt groaned again, pushing himself away from the phone on his wheelie chair, "A bad day I could handle, but a bad day with a headache just makes me want to put a bin over my head and lie on that pile of faux fur coats," as he rubbed his temples, the pain subsided a little but not enough for an announcement.

A small packet of aspirin then landed over the files on Kurt's desk as if Dusty was some fairy godmother who entered every room with a solution to the problem.

"They might help," she smiled brightly, going over to sit on Kurt's lap and hug him round the neck, "Awww... poor thing,"

Travis just laughed into his coffee and shook his head as his colleague scratched at the hair by Kurt's ears.

Dusty Knight had long, curly bright red hair that reached just about her waist. Usually she would be seen in a shit, pleated skirt and tucked in sleeveless blouse- depending on what Isabelle seemed to be fashioning at the time, of course. A button nose was where her rimless glasses sat, her fringe balancing on the top of her specs. She looked a bit like a mix between a Japanese school girl and Katy Perry.

"Thanks, I appreciate it," was all Kurt said through his partly closed lips.

"Take it with a drink, sweetie," with a kiss to his cheek, she bounced off towards the ladies room. Travis looking understandably bemused as he set down the mug and eyed Kurt curiously.

"Does she always flirt like that with you?"

That certainly opened the blue eyes hidden underneath tired lids, even causing a smile for the first time all day, "What? Oh my God I'm gonna pretend I didn't hear that,"

"Oh come on,"

"Come on what? It's friendly, she's my friend. My friend who is fully aware that if I went to the Moulin Rouge I would be less interested in the nipple tassels and more on the detailing and sequins on their head-dresses," leaning back in his chair as he giggled, Kurt rolled his eyes.

"I'm just saying, she's been more than friendly for a while now," he sipped his coffee, "I think she might be hoping to draw your eyes away from head dresses and more down south,"

"Oh get out of here," he shook his head, swatting his arm playfully before watching the boy leave with a confused look on his face. Sure, he loved Dusty like a sister or a best friend but there was seriously no way he would ever consider a rendez-vous of any kind with her. For now, he would dismiss it and refuse to pay any attention to the ridiculous views and opinions of Travis Baldwin. Whom, he had never really seemed to go for either. Obviously he was more his type, but nothing ever clicked romantically. There was one occasion, when they had first met, during Kurt's first week. There might have been the odd flirtatious email sent and wandering eyes across the office but that soon dissolved into a playful and comfortable friendship.

"Kurt, if you get that list of guests I need to talk to at the first runway done in ten minutes you can leave early," Isabelle totted past him, her eyes not leaving a huge folder she had held tightly with both hands. As soon as she arrived in Kurt's eye sight, she disappeared through a pair of glass double doors.

"Got it," he chewed his lip and took in a deep breath before starting to tap away at the computer. Kurt's eyebrows were furrowed in concentration for the best part of ten minutes, fingers already cramping at the rate of his typing. All around him the chaos was getting worse. He'd never been in such a hostile environment before, everyone was so touchy. He didn't dare speak to anyone outside of Isabelle and his two colleagues in case they bite his ears off. 'It's only a week' he kept telling himself, 'Then things will return to normality.

"Hey," his train of thought was interrupted by the sight of Dusty's smiling face resting on the end of his desk. Now that Travis had placed the seed of suspicion in his head, it was all his could think about.

"Hey Dusty," Kurt replied, his eyes only briefly leaving the computer screen.

"Whatcha doing for Valentine's day?"

"Well, considering it'll be the end of Fashion week, I'll be sleeping and trying to recover from the stress which I'm sure has formed a bubble at the back of my head,"

"But we get a night off! You should enjoy it!" she rose to her feet and bounced a little on her heels.

Suddenly, all attention on Dusty or the computer was taken away by the sight that caught Kurt;s eye without warning. His jaw dropped an inch, eyes glazed over as he fell into a daze.

"Kurt?" she turned to inspect what had turned her friend into a zombie.

There, stood behind the glass doors leading to Miss Wright's office was a dark haired gentlemen laughing charmingly as he stood from the leather chair, kissing her cheek as if they were closing some sort of deal. He placed both hands on hers and looked as if he was thanking her, while she looked to be positively swooning. And who wouldn't? The man had some sort of Fred Astaire or Frank Sinatra about him. He seemed to emit charm and charisma without even trying. A dark blue suede blazer sat over his dark shirt while his pants were tight and also very fashionable. The man smiled as if he had won prizes for it, perfect teeth that could have only been achieved through years of braces sat behind pink lips. It was liked heaven had sent down perfection as an apology for the hell hole that Vogue had become lately. Kurt could definitely consider finding a religion in whatever God created this fine specimen.

"Oh my God,"

Dusty immediately spun round to look at Kurt, "What? Him? Really? He's...h-he's nothing... he's not even," after one more look at the mystery man, she gave up and slumped down on the desk, "He's beautiful,"

"Yeah, you're telling me," the brunette boy had suddenly found himself grinning, chin rested in his linked fingers like a pathetic little love struck school girl. Like it was planned, Travis then came speeding over to kneel beside Kurt.

"Have you seen him?" he asked excitedly.

"Yeah," Kurt and Dusty said in dazed unison.

"Listen, I can't thank you enough for giving me this opportunity, even giving me an interview in this extremely stressful time is enough for me to worship at your feet,"

"Oh, stop it, just make sure you're here Thursday, on time,"

"I will be, Miss Wright, thank you again, so much," the new employee grinned brightly at her and then turned to leave. As soon as his eyes settled on what was in front of him, all he could see was two men and a red head staring right at him. All that was needed was a bemused look from the man and suddenly they all dispersed, seeming to get back on with work. A little confused but flattered at the incident, Blaine Anderson waltzed down the corridor to the first boy he noticed of the three gawkers.

"Hey, do you know who I have to talk to to get a coffee?"

Kurt nearly jumped at the sudden hand that was resting on top of a pile of papers in front of him and the deep, old hollywood tone of voice that was asking him about coffee. It was only as his eyes lifted that he forgot about every coffee machine in the entire building. His eyes were the first thing that stopped his throat working, they were a perfect mixture of meadow green and hazelnut. Kurt then suddenly wanted every room in his house painted the colour of those scrumptious eyes.

"Oh...w-well, I think um...well, there's a Starbucks just down the block I think," before Kurt could finish his disastrous sentence, Blaine was picking up the one file he really shouldn't have and going to open it.

"No, actually, you can't look in that, it's um, secret, it's a confidential file of Miss Wright's," he went to reach it back from the man who was smugly dancing his fingers over the corners of the card.

To Kurt's surprise, Blaine just laughed and rested it in between in side and forearm, "Actually, I'm coming to get it for Isabelle. See, she just hired me as her second in command for Fashion week, so basically, I will attend every runway show with her, every party and then return to at the end of the wondrous week to be on her team,"

And in one sentence, Kurt couldn't have been less attracted to this new man. Just the arrogance with which he informed Kurt that all his hopes had been shattered was enough to put a frown right on his face. His charm had dissolved into cockiness and it wasn't attractive at all. Those eyes now just reminded Kurt of the time he went walking with his dad in a muddy field and fell over into a ditch. He was disenchanted already with the charm that now just sickened him.

"I b-beg your pardon?" he muttered out, almost inaudibly.

"Yeah, so, I'm actually above you. You can't tell me which files I can and can't have,"

Kurt was completely stunned.

"By the way, your legs look fantastic in those jeans," Blaine winked at him, then proceeded to swan off to Isabelle's office like he owned the place.

"Isabelle!"

An angry Kurt threw open the doors to her office and stood there, arms folded over his chest as she looked like a deer in the headlights of her assistant's fury.

"Why did you employ that utter douche bag to go with you to all of the shows and parties?"

"Kurt..."

"No, listen, you promised Travis, Dusty and I that it would be one of us, you said you would decide today and we've been working our asses off trying to impress you. And then you go and employ a young Simon Cowell out of the blue when you had three perfectly good candidates for the job!"

"Kurt, please,"she tried to interject, but was over powered by the raging boy in red arguing with her.

"This is so not like you, and I know I may be talking out of line here and I know I'm not supposed to address my boss in this way but I'm only saying what poor Travis and Dusty are too nice to say. I just... how can you find potential in a man who uses more hair product than Ross in the early seasons of Friends."

And just at that, the leather chair in front of him spun round to reveal a still smug looking Blaine, legs crossed and his elbow resting on the side. "Hi there,"

Kurt froze for a second, eyes darting from the asshole to his boss repeatedly.

"I did try to say, Kurt..." she sighed and walked over to him, "Listen... I know I promised it to one of you guys but I just couldn't decide between the three of you, I didn't want you guys falling out over it or anything. And plus, if I have Blaine with me, I know I can trust that I have three very hard working, amazing people making sure all my commitments and schedule stays managed back here! And you can still come to the Cavalli show, I promised you all that didn't I?"

The brunette was still fuming at the bitter betrayal, but he had managed to soften for the sole purpose of not wanting a scene in front of Mr Dick.

He sighed loudly and stopped looking at Blaine completely, "Fine... fine, fine. Just, you can tell the other two because I'm not," turning on his heels, with his head hung low, he left and tried to stop the tears that were brewing.

Blaine's eyes saddened instantly, but soon brightened so he could speak to Isabelle without her detecting any problems.

Three hot pretzels were bought from a questionable man in Times Square that night, one ate a little more aggressively than the others.

"Are you still angry?

"Yes! Aren't you?" Kurt spat towards Travis, mouth full of pretzel.

"Sure I am, but you gotta build a big sparkly gay bridge and skip over it,"

"Trav, we're both gay, it doesn't have to be a competition to see how can be the most fabulous," he grunted around his food.

Dusty laughed and looked up at them, "Put the claws back in, girls"

"Don't you think it's crazy though? We've worked so hard for her and suddenly we're replaced by a newer model...God I feel like the Phantom," he tilted his head back and groaned in utter annoyance.

"Stop being such a drama queen, there'll be other opportunities like these, better ones, and we'll be the ones to get them, not him," the taller boy shrugged, completely nonchalant about the whole thing.

The brunette boy raised an eyebrow and nudged him with his elbow, "How are you so sure?"

Dusty watched him with just as much curiosity, taking Kurt's side as she always did.

"Well, because, people like us don't work as hard as we do just to get nothing in return. Some people, like that new guy get what they want through charm and looks, and us, the awkward plainer looking guys need to use a little more elbow grease to get what they want,"

There was a brief pause between the group, until Kurt scoffed and rolled his eyes, "Speak for yourself,"

The three then carried on walking through the city in a close huddle until it was time to part and return home for another night.

AN/ Yes, this was short, I'm aware. They'll get longer but this was just a taster. Please review!

Laura x