Kurt winced. He heard Jeff screeching before he could even see him. And that was saying something, because he was wearing a red cocktail dress, red fishnet stockings and a long red wig to match. And he was a good five inches taller than usual, thanks to his sparkling scarlet platforms. He tried to keep up his angst-filled fa�ade as the car pulled up to their meeting point, but when Jeff shoved his chest in his face and carried on belting out Candi Staton lyrics it was impossible not to snigger. He was heaved out of his seat, which wasn't easy in chain mail, and dragged into some kind of dance. Jeff ran up behind him, a little too gracefully in those shoes, and picked him up. It felt like he was being given the Heimlich manoeuvre, and the effect was more or less the same, as he started coughing and spluttering in between laughs.

"Some knight you are! Those noises aren't exactly valiant." he scolded him, releasing Kurt from his grip.

"Why do we have to do this?" he changed the subject, shoving Jeff away, "You know it's going to go wrong. You'll get even more drunk. We'll get caught and thrown out, and everything will be ten times worse. And Anderson will kick the crap out of you."

"Me? But I was invited! You're a Hummel, it'll be you who gets beaten up. Anyway, I thought you hated the Andersons? You should be jumping at the chance to wreck their party, their house, their lives, and drink all their booze."

"I'm not in the mood. I'll just be thinking about him all night anyway. How am I supposed to have fun when my soulmate refuses to acknowledge my existence?"

"Oh, right. The soulmate. The one man you can't live without, what was his name… Freddie? Fatty? Fuckface?" Kurt punched him in the arm. The heels and temporary cleavage didn't make him any less of an asshole.

"It's Finn, and you can't talk about him like that. You don't understand what it feels like. He's all I think about. Even when I'm asleep, he's in my dreams. How would you feel if you loved someone who refused to love you back?"

"I would feel like this! Because I love you, and I'm trying to help you, and you're ignoring me. You're ignoring everything because of some stupid dream, some fantasy of unrequited infatuation. You've never spoken to him, kissed him, I bet he's never even smiled at you. How can it be love if it's one-sided? I thought the whole point was that there are two people involved. Like you and me. Seriously, we are more of a couple than you and he will ever be. Now don't get me wrong, my being dressed as a whore doesn't mean I'm going to try anything, but you are closing your eyes to so much. There could be someone ready to love you back, not like I love you, but the way you actually want somebody to love you. And you won't notice them because you're pining over that meat-head."

Kurt was speechless. He had a point. How was he this articulate when he was so drunk? Normally, 'dude' would be a stretch by this point, but 'unrequited infatuation'? He must have been really pissed off. Or maybe he was on more than just alcohol. Maybe Kurt was wrong about him being less of a moron in drag. Obviously he had to try and pretend he didn't agree with him; Jeff was unbearable when he was right. Kurt flicked his head away. "Well. I can't exactly let this costume go to waste."

Jeff grinned, squealed, and tied a mask over Kurt's eyes. "Trust me. Tomorrow you'll have forgotten all about Felix, or Fergus, or whatever. Let's go. If not for yourself, for the Hummels!"

The others (a French maid, a princess and Catwoman - Kurt was starting to ask some serious questions about his 'boys') punched the air and shouted, "HUMMELS!".

Kurt laughed, adjusting his mask so it wouldn't wreck his hair. They all looked at him expectantly. He sighed and rolled his eyes, throwing his head back and shouting "HUMMELS!". They all cheered and jumped into the car, sending up clouds of dust as they headed straight for the Anderson house.