Blaine's asleep in Kurt's bed with his face buried in the pillow, probably drooling (he has his own pillowcase specifically to be used when he stays overnight for this reason). He's blissfully unaware of what Kurt has to do this morning to prepare for his bi-yearly visit from Grandma Bea.

He gazes at himself in the mirror - hair wet from the shower, face freshly-shaven and his body wrapped snugly in a fluffy, dark blue robe. He still looks like Kurt. Himself. But he knows that will be different by the time Blaine wakes up and he has to show him what his grandmother expects from him. How he's going to have to look while he sits next to Blaine on the couch, holding his hand, wearing that thing hanging in the closet behind all of his blazers and jackets and unfoldable pants.

Before beginning the process, he opens his robe at the vanity and stares at his chest. There they are - small, but round and soft, sensitive from binding each day and getting smaller as the hormones do their magic but they are still breasts, and enough to pass. Enough for extended family to think he's a girl.

He covers up once he can't stand to look anymore and he starts with a primer. It doubles as a�moisturiser�and helps to keep his pores from getting too blocked up. Next is foundation, carefully applied - especially over his chin and neck, where the hair�follicles�are getting a little tougher to conceal without help, even post-shave. A soft rouge to the cheeks, very faint, and a matching shadow to the eye. No liner, just mascara over his long eyelashes and, lastly, a coral pink over his tightened lips - the same lips he used last night to bob over his boyfriend's cock once everyone else in the house was asleep, risky with the door open at Kurt's father's insistence but he needed it. He needed it because he knew Blaine wouldn't want it again after today, not from him.

He takes his comb and brushes his hair down and over, sweeping over his forehead, tucking the ends behind his ears to let it dry with a natural curl to the ends. He's thinking these things, but unconsciously - the hair, the make-up, how it will all come together. If he thinks for too long, he'll chicken out or give up and he can't, not this time.

Kurt hears Blaine shift and snort softly in his sleep and it's the first time Kurt has smiled since waking.�

Standing to move to the closet, he shuts the door and drops his robe. Ignoring the full-length mirror on his closet door, he takes out the yellow chiffon dress from the back of his closet. He wouldn't have even picked this for himself back in middle school, when he still wore dresses - but it's all he has after his last closet purge, and it came from Grandma Bea, anyway. Might as well.

He slips it on. Looks in the mirror. Doesn't recognize himself one bit.

His legs are still hairy - there's no way he's going to shave or wax for one fucking visit, not again - so he pulls on some black leggings and it's done.

He doesn't look like himself anymore. That's Liesl, pouting pink lips in the mirror with her fluffy pink dress tight around her chest.

"Kurt?"

He turns.

Blaine's sitting up in bed, his pyjama shirt unbuttoned from last night and his hair standing a little on-end. He doesn't look too sleepy, so he must have been watching for a while. He must have been watching Kurt.

Kurt clears his throat and pastes on a sad smile. "How do I look?"�

Blaine's eyebrows arch and he whispers, "You're beautiful."

"Don't."

"I mean it."

Kurt shakes his head, willing himself not to get too emotional as Blaine stands up, coming close to him. "You look beautiful. You make an incredible drag queen."

Kurt snorts despite himself, letting Blaine settle his hands on the curve of his hips and he puts his own arms around Blaine's shoulders.

"I'm so sorry you have to do this... pretending I'm your girlfriend." Kurt's voice is soft. He rubs his lips together, spreading the lipstick, just like old habit.

Blaine shakes his head. "It's okay. You're my boyfriend and I know you are. You know it, too. Think of it like... like a performance." Blaine begins moving in a small box-step, grin creeping onto his lips. "Like you're singing and dancing for the audience's applause."

Kurt chuckles under his breath, moving with Blaine's steps. It feels a little ridiculous, all dressed up and slow-dancing without music with his boyfriend in pyjamas, but at the same time, it's so them - so perfectly, wonderfully himself and Blaine that he forgets about Liesl. What Grandma Bea is going to think. He knows he'll play a convincing character; it's what he's born to do.

He steps on Blaine's toes by accident and there's some awkward giggling and shifting before Blaine leans up to press a soft kiss on Kurt's lips.�

"I love you, Kurt Hummel. You're so... You're so fucking brave." Blaine shakes his head. "I could never do what you do."

Kurt smiles at the corners of his lips and reaches up to thumb away a smudge of pink at the corner of Blaine's mouth. "Come on," he says, "get dressed, and let's show Dad. He's gonna laugh his ass off at this dress."