Chapter Text
EPISODE 0: BEFORE THE RUNWAY
Tim Gunn actually dreads Project Runway. At least during the audition process and the preliminary rounds. He cringes at the children who think they are ‘designer’ material, and the fake-nosed, spray-tanned, silicone-implanted girls that are confident they have a chance to become a Project Runaway model.
While he’s extremely confident a fabulous designer will emerge – he’s seen some of them start off rough but then towards the end produce gorgeous pieces he’d never even dream of – it’s tough to motivate himself when he’s staring at a picture of what could be a cocktail dress inspired by Big Bird.
“No,” he sighs, as Heidi chokes on her drink. “No, no and no.”
Michael laughs next to him. “We should send that person a C&D.”
Tim rubs his temple. He’s not drunk enough to go through the remaining 1,537 entries.
“You fucking fuck!”
Tony ducks, avoiding the lamp thrown in his direction. Effy sure had one hell of a temper when she felt like expressing her woe to the world.
He peeks over the couch and sees an extremely pissed off little sister pacing the room, trying to find the next thing she can throw at him. Tony bets that she’s saving the mini television for last.
“I can’t believe!” Effy screams, throwing her hands in the air before turning to look at him, glaring.
“You fucking joined Project Runway as a designer so you can keep an eye on me?”
Tony sighs. It’s really not his fault that big brother instincts usually take over rational thought. Effy was going to be miles away, and Tony doesn’t have contacts in New York to look out for her. And she was going to be a model, and Tony’s heard all the horror stories about models getting anorexia and bulimia and sleeping with photographers and even dying horrible deaths. Of course he was going along with her, it’s what big brothers do.
Effy now looks deadly, like a komodo dragon waiting to pounce an injured goat. “You better not choose me as your fucking model, Tony, or I swear-”
“I won’t.” Of course Tony wouldn’t, although he was considering that five minutes ago. “You need your space, I know.”
Effy rolls her eyes. “If you know I need my space you wouldn’t join the damn competition in the first place!”
The telephone hits the wall behind him. Yeah, this is gonna take a while.
Sid never really had luck on his side, so he’s surprised when he actually got into Project Runway. His mom had held him to her bosom for 20 minutes as she sobbed with joy, and his dad had patted him on the back, eyes glistening.
He felt like he was in a soap opera.
Now he’s standing in his room in New York – New York! – unsure which bed to take. The one on the left, or the right? The left one means less sun, which is good for his sensitive skin, but it also means a bright pink comforter.
He’s saved from making a decision when a guy barges in, probably half drunk at 4 in the afternoon, and dumps his bag on the left bed. So yeah, Sid has to take the right one.
“You lost?” a voice asks curiously, and he turns to see the man peering oddly at him.
“I, uh,” he stammers. “No?”
The man blinks. “You sure?”
Sid scratches his beanie – it’s a reflex thing when he’s nervous. “Yeah man, why’d you ask?”
The man shrugs. “Cause you don’t really look very Project Runway.” He pauses. “You are here for Project Runway right?”
Sid thinks he should be offended, but he’s accepted his fate. He’s always termed the emo kid, the loser, the nerd, anything but the popular boy, the one that people look at.
Before he can stammer out an answer, a blonde boy appears at the doorway, carrot sticks in hand, grinning. Sid thinks he’s gorgeous. “C’mon Chris, stop teasing.”
The man known as Chris flops on his bed. “Whatever man. I’m smoked.”
“You’re stoned,” The blonde boy drawls, laughing. He turns to Sid. “Hi, I’m Maxxie. Just reached here a day ago, from Austin, Texas.”
Sid’s heart breaks into five. There is no way a Texas boy as hot as Maxxie would even look at him twice. Heck, Maxxie probably had three prom dates, all of them female. “I’m Sid, from New Jersey.”
“Fucker, just needed to drive up a little,” Chris mumbles.
Maxxie laughs. “Ignore him, man, he gets bitchy when he’s high. That’s Chris, by the way. From California.”
“Damn straight,” Chris retorts. “And before you ask, no, I didn’t go to school with Adam Lambert.”
Sid didn’t even think of Adam Lambert. “A-Alright.”
Maxxie throws himself onto the middle bed and his white t-shirt rises up a little, exposing a hip that Sid wants to lick so badly. “Well we’re gonna be roommates man! We’re gonna make clothes, and I hear the models are hot. It’s gonna be awesome.”
“Yeah,” Sid echoes, wondering why he always had no luck. “Awesome.
EPISODE 1: YOUR FABRIC, YOUR RULES
It’s the first challenge, and Anwar really, really wants to win it. Yeah, Maxxie and Tony and Chris are pretty awesome people – he’s not so sure about Sid, that guy can get weird sometimes – but he’s here to win. He’s spent half his life stoned, and he’s actually tired of living a stoned life.
Chris had nearly eaten the weed when he said that. “Fuck no, man. That’s no way to live.”
“Fuck yes, man,” Anwar had sighed, taking a gulp of water. He’s sober in all aspects now, has been for three months. “There’s actually a point in time when you get tired of this.”
The ladies in the competition aren’t that bad looking, if he would say so himself. Michelle’s a pretty thing, all smiles and curly hair, but Anwar can see the cutthroat businesswoman in her, the professional that he admires already. Cassie’s in her own world half the time, he’s not really sure how she’s gonna finish up work when she’s twirling around babbling about tuna cans. And then there’s Jal, uptight Jal who eyes Chris like he’s rotten meat. But Anwar can bet that by the end of the competition, they’re gonna get together.
“Alright, designers,” Tim Gunn rubs his hands together, and Anwar still can’t believe he’s here sometimes. Tim Gunn! He owns Tim Gunn’s bedsheets, and the guy is here talking to him right now.
“Here is your first assignment. See all that fabric behind me?”
Oh yeah, Anwar can see it, alright. Three tents, huge and overflowing with all kinds of fabric, and his spine itches to make a gown or a cocktail dress.
“You have ten minutes to grab as much fabric as you can for your assignment. Ten minutes,” Tim looks over his glasses, as if convinced that one of them will cheat.
“Go, go, go!”
Anwar dashes to the first tent, he’s seen the most gorgeous green chiffon and no one is going to steal that from him. He snags that, triumphant, and quickly eyes for something that could compliment…. Blue green silk! And he’s seeing his dress already, now if only he could get a little black Victorian lace.
He doesn’t get the black Victorian lace, sadly – Jal’s snatched that – but he’s got normal black lace, and he knows how to make do.
“You have three days, to finish up your assignment. We’re going back to the workroom, you’re going to plan your design, and we will go and meet your models.”
The moment Maxxie lays eyes on her, he decides that’s the model he wants. Maybe he won’t get her for this round, but for the future rounds? That’s the model he wants.
And from the way she’s sneaking glances at him, he figures she wants to model for him too. It’s going to be the start of a beautiful relationship.
Tony growls, two people away, and Maxxie wonders what crawled up his ass and died.
“For the first assignment, we’re randomly assigning models. But from the next assignment onwards, you get to choose the model you want.”
Maxxie doesn’t get the model he wants, but his model’s pretty enough. Her name’s Olga, and with her cheekbones and shapely figure, she’ll just make the dress more beautiful.
“Hey,” he gives her his ‘aww shucks’ smile, the one that convinces parents to let him take their daughter out for a movie and dinner. Olga smiles back, relaxing slightly. “Okay, so I usually like second opinions, and I wanna know what you feel about this dress I’m gonna do”.”
He shows her his sketches, and working with Olga is pretty awesome. She gives constructive comments, adds a little bit of suggestions here and there, and when they’re done, Maxxie thinks this second sketch is more high-end fashion and less prom-dress.
He glances over to the model he wanted – she’s with Arjana, this African girl who is a real sweetheart – and she’s talking, moving her hands in the air to make a point. As if she knows he’s looking, she turns and looks at him, blue eyes not giving away any emotion.
Maxxie smiles, and the model hesitates before she smiles back, ducks her head and looks away.
“Jal,” Heidi says with such calmness it’s a miracle she’s not a wax statue. “Tell us about your look.”
“Well I’m going for a structured, sleek cut, but with a little bit of a fun side. Which is why I have the little pleats on the skirt, and the colour isn’t too drab.”
Jal’s pretty glad that she got Anais for a model. The red hair really pulls of the white top and the light turquoise skirt, and Jal’s really satisfied with what she’s done. Helps too that Anais can walk the walk, shaking her booty like what Chris called ‘a Polaroid picture’.
Chris is the oddest person Jal has ever met, and Jal isn’t really interested in knowing the chain-smoking, pot-inhaling boy.
“I like the cut,” Sonia says, and Jal beams. “The colour of the skirt is really nice. And what you did with the fabric, it’s impressive.”
Michael frowns. “I think the top is too drab. It just screams office worker. I mean look at her! She’s a pretty young thing, but it looks like she’s stuck in a rut!”
Okay, so Michael has issues. Noted. Jal grits her teeth and nods.
“I think I can see what you were going for,” Heidi finally says. “But I don’t think you managed to successfully achieve it. Close, but not fully.”
“Close enough,” Sonia murmurs.
Well Heidi and Michael can hate her creation for all they want, but at least Jal’s pretty sure she’s safe. Jonathan’s one was absolutely disastrous, no one actually knew what it was supposed to be, including Jonathan himself. The model looked shrunken and confused in a huge brown and grey whirl of fabric, with hints of sparkle. When it went down the runway, Tony literally muttered ‘what the fuck?’ and Michelle’s jaw dropped. Well, everyone was surprised, and not in a good way.
As expected, Jonathan is sent off, and no one really misses him. The boy was, after all, a trash talking maniac that even got on Cassie’s nerves, and even a horde of cockroaches dancing in a circle singing Lady Gaga couldn’t annoy Cassie.
There’s a knock on the door and Michelle opens it. Jonathan’s standing there, luggage behind him.
“Just wanted to say goodbye,” he grins smarmily. Michelle smiles, but she knows it’s strained.
“Well, goodbye.” Was it too rude to slam the door in his face?
“Listen,” he’s leaning on the doorway now – oh god, no. “I was thinking, you know, after this whole thing, once you get eliminated,”
Michelle’s eyebrows rise faster than steam in a sauna. Seriously?
“I was thinking we could get together.” Jonathan’s really confident, and all Michelle wants to do is to stuff a pair of fabric scissors up his ass. She’s thinking of a way to reply him when someone clears his throat.
“I think not, man,” Tony appears behind Jonathan, blue eyes narrowed. “She’s with me.”
Jonathan snorts. “Yeah, sure man-”
“I am.” she interrupts him, glad for this opportunity, glad that Tony came along and saved her. “I’m with him.”
Jonathan stares at her for the longest time, until she starts feeling uncomfortable. “What? You’ve never seen a person’s girlfriend before?”
Tony chuckles and squeezes past Jonathan to get to her. He puts his hand around her waist, and she leans towards him. “I think you should leave.” Tony sounds friendly, but Michelle can hear the coldness hidden behind the warmth.
Jonathan blinks. “Yeah, yeah, nice…. Nice meeting you.”
When he’s gone, Michelle wants to laugh, but she figures it’s not really nice. She bites her lip, trying to hold back her giggles. Tony suddenly shakes with silent laughter, and chuckles soon become giggles and snorts and evolve into full-fledged laugher.
“Oh gosh,” Tony chokes out. “That was… That was.”
Michelle can understand. She can’t believe he had the nerve to say ‘once you get eliminated’. It’s like, the worst pickup line she’s ever heard.
Tony’s arm tightens around her waist. “So,” he smiles. “I’m Tony. And I think you’re hot.”
A girl could do with some fun in New York. “I’m Michelle. And I think you’re hot too.”
EPISODE 2: CIRCUS ACT
“Since you are the winner of the previous challenge, you get to pick first.”
Effy crossed her fingers. Please don’t let it be me, please don’t let it be me, please don’t let it be me-
“Jasmin!” Cassie clapped. Jasmin flashed her bright smile and walked to the designer, but Effy – and probably all the other models – knew that she was dying a little inside.
The models were all housed in one large apartment, and word gets around fast. In the past weeks, Effy has learnt that her brother feels up Hannah – and she will smack the living shit out of him when she can – during fittings, Cassie is a little delusional and Kayla was freaked out when she worked with her for the first assignment, and Sid is a quiet, mousy boy but respectful of personal space. She knows that Jal is nitpicky when it comes to details, Anais was gushing over the pleats of her skirt. Effy thought that skirt was ridiculously pretty too. Karen tell her that Chris is like a genius, the boy draws ten lines and three circles, which no one can understand, and then he produces one of the nicest outfits ever. Effy thought that Chris should have won the last round. His canary yellow dress was a traffic stopper, hands down. And Karen really pulled off the 60s feel with her wavy hair and soft makeup.
Anwar picks Kayla, and Effy tries to remember what he’s like. Was he the crazy pot smoking one or the live-as-we-go one?
Then of course, there’s Maxxie.
Maxxie, who caught her eye since the first time the models met the designers. She knows Tony’s coughing and spluttering and clearing his throat twenty times more often than usual, but screw it. She’s not going to let her brother get in the way of this. Maxxie, whom Olga says is the perfect Southern gentleman, all good looks and charm. She wants to be Maxxie’s model so badly she really needs to get a cigarette to calm herself down.
Finally, finally, it’s Maxxie’s turn and he smiles – Effy wants to wake up to that smile.
“Effy.”
Tony’s three seconds away from being a mother tiger but Effy can be a real mean killer whale when she wants to, and Tony knows it. Which is probably why Maxxie is still alive. She walks up to Maxxie, smiling.
“Hey partner,” he drawls, and Effy’s blown away, like a heroine in a romance novel.
Effy sits next to him, grinning. “Hey yourself.”
EPISODE 3: CHEAP N’ CHIC
Today is a no good, very bad, horrible day. Chris can feel it in his blood. He’s not motivated at all.
So yeah, he won the second challenge, which means immunity for this round, but it also means that he has to up his game this time, not go all the way down the drain.
He decides to go around for inspiration.
The latest challenge is insane. They’ve got $20 to use, and Chris found the sweetest reddish brown fabric at Mood, together with some gold furnishings. He’s got his stuff all laid out, but he’s just not inspired.
“Don’t you have things to do?” Tony asks as he tears his purple polyester with his bare hands. “The deadline’s tomorrow, man.”
Chris sighs. “I know, but I’m just not inspired. At all.”
Michelle wanders over, stealing some pins from Tony’s pincushion. “You’re not done, are you Chris?”
“He’s uninspired.” Tony tells her.
“Well uninspired or not, you gotta work, Chris,” Michelle pats his hand and goes back to her station.
Chris follows the sway of her ass, and gets knocked on the head with Tony’s ruler.
“Go find your own, stop looking at mine,” Tony grins, feral.
“I gotta admit,” Chris whistles. “That is one fine package.”
“And you’re a manwhore.”
“You break my heart, Ton,” Chris puts a hand over his chest, feigning pain and sadness. “You keep on breaking my heart.”
Tony laughs. “Go and do your thing, man. You’re gonna get trashed by Michael if you don’t.”
“Cassie!” Tim says as he comes over.
“Hey Tim!”
“Talk to me.”
Cassie beams. “I’m doing a dress, like a cocktail dress, so I’m gonna do a little bubble skirt here, see? And a corset top.”
“Fascinating,” Tim says. “Why a corset top?”
“It’s like harsh versus soft. The bubble skirt is all floaty and happy, but the corset top is fierce and leather-”
Tim’s eyebrows go past his hairline. “Leather?”
She nods. “Leather. This black PVC I found, it looks a lot like the real thing.”
Tim strokes the fabric as if soothing it. That’s why Cassie likes Tim best, he appreciates the fabric, not like Heidi and Michael and Sonia who just criticize and comment on color and cut and don’t see the effort the threads make to hold up the dress. “I don’t know if it’ll work, Cassie,” Tim finally admits.
Cassie smiles. “Don’t worry, I’ll make it work.”
“That’s right. Make it work. Thank you, Cassie.”
“Thanks Tim.”
Maxxie wins round three and for some stupid reason Sid is proud of him. It’s so dumb, but Sid’s happy that Maxxie won. It means he’s still be around for two more rounds, and Sid never wants to see the bed next to his empty.
“Poor Becky,” Maxxie says as he watches ‘America’s got Talent’ on the Plasma TV in their apartment. “Heidi wasn’t very nice.”
“None of them are,” Anwar mutters. “They only know how to criticize and slam, but honestly I’ve never found Michael Kors’ clothes very appealing.”
Cain snorts mid-weed. “Agreed.”
“It’s just,” Maxxie looks worried, and it look adorable on him. Sid wants to kiss it off, make him smile. “How can you say things like ‘it’s a complete disaster, I don’t even know why we picked you in the first place?’”
Tony wanders in, beer bottle in hand. “Well they’re to blame too. I mean if they didn’t pick her in the first place, it wouldn’t have happened.”
“They shouldn’t have picked Jonathan, that’s what they shouldn’t have picked,” Howard retorts.
Everyone laughs, remembering the first and last creation Jonathan put on the runway.
“Man, what was that even supposed to be?” Cain laughed.
“A mix between whale blubber and sewage, I think,” Chris says seriously, and Shane hoots.
Maxxie throws a pillow at Chris, but he’s smiling. “Fucking bitch.”
“Says you who threw the pillow at me!”
Sid wonders what tomorrow’s assignment would be.