For Keeps

42. Drag queens LIVE at the Wonderlounge!

{Jon}

The first thing Jon loved about drag was Kurt spending hours touching him, fussing over his face and body to get all the details perfect, from the tiny gems he applied to the corners of Jon's eyes, to the glittery powder he brushed over Jon's chest and the exposed strip of his stomach below his sequinned top. Jon couldn't think of a time his own mother fussed over him so attentively and he soaked it up like a thirsty plant after a long dry spell.

Admittedly, Jon would never in his life have let his mother know he wanted to be fussed over. It was a new realization—he was outgrowing his need for his parents to fix what had gone before or change. It felt so natural for Kurt to step in and generously fill in the gaps.

As they joined Cary in the candle-lit kitchen, chatting and laughing over Cary's cheesy baked chicken and gluten-free pasta casserole, Jon felt himself moving on. His parents were diminishing in importance and these two men, his partner and his best friend, along with the supportive community they had in their church, were Jon's primary relationships now, the people he really relied on in his grown up life.

He was so ready to celebrate all of that with a night out.

Finally, the pearl-studded miniskirt was zipped, the feathery choker was hooked, the white heeled boots were laced, and Honey Angel Baby Face was ready to take on the town. Grinning at himself in the mirrored closet in their entryway, Jon found it hard to believe his eyes.

"Tabitha May, eat your heart out," Jon said, cocking his hip and flicking his honey-coloured waves over his shoulder. "I am the prettiest White sister."

He'd expected to feel more uncomfortable, but in the end he really wasn't wearing very many clothes--the boots probably covered more skin than the sequinned top and mini skirt combined. After months of Kurt's unequivocal appreciation of his body, Jon was comfortable with his size and shape. The feathery fake eyelashes made his eyelids feel weighty and odd at first, but the sensation passed and now with every languid blink Jon was just conscious of how startlingly exotic he looked.

Also, tall. If Kurt didn't insist on also wearing a pair of black stilettos they would have been the same height.

"Pictures, pictures!" Jon called, holding out his phone to Cary.

Kurt snugged up next to Jon in front of the Christmas tree, bending to press their cheeks together. Kurt had painted one side of his face with a shimmering teal and purple design that matched the garishly loud peacock-feather suit jacket he'd thrown over a black mesh shirt and black skinny jeans.

"Say queeeeens," Kurt said, and Cary stabbed the phone screen with a big finger a couple times.

"Hopefully one of those worked," he said.

Kurt helped Jon into a fluffy fur coat that smelled faintly of mothballs; the temperature had dropped to frigid depths with the setting of the sun. "Be safe," Cary said, watching them in the entryway with his hands stuffed in his pockets.

"You could come, big man," Kurt said, flashing him a grin.

"Uh no," Cary said. "This is one date night you don't need me to chaperone. Me an' Misty will have a quiet night."

"Don't wait up," Jon said cheerfully.

"I'm waiting up," Cary replied gruffly. "Call me if you need me."

"Darlin', my husband has a black belt and her shit-kicking boots on," Kurt said. "Your gays are going to be fine. Don't worry about a thing."

*

Evolution Wonderlounge was in the heart of downtown, and as Jon walked under the streetlights on Kurt's arm he felt a wave of nerves that may have been exhilaration or terror. Pedestrians and clubbers shivering in lines definitely turned to look as they sashayed past—he was dead centre in the spotlight with Kurt and even in this formidable coat and drag battle armour he felt exposed.