heels and skirt

anonymous asked:

More drag au please!!!!!

Sure thing, Anon! (I was planning on writing more)
Parts 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 (final)
Also available on AO3.

Michele took Emil’s offered arm, trying to hide his amusement when he realized he was just a bit taller than his boyfriend now. There was a lull between songs and the clicking of his heels seemed to echo through the club.

Once again, Michele felt eyes on him, but he paid them no mind. They didn’t matter. Emil said he looked good - actually, he’d used the word ‘stunning,’ which had made Michele’s cheeks tint and his heart flutter - and that was more important than what the others thought.

He did catch sight of the young man who’d asked him to dance, out of the corner of his eye. He felt bad about the way he’d rejected him. Of course, Michele’d thought he was after Sara, but he could have let the man down a bit easier.

“You move really well in those,” Emil said, drawing Michele’s attention away from the dance floor.

“What?” he asked, pushing some of his wig’s long synthetic hair over his shoulder and bending down just a bit to make up for their slight difference in height.

“The heels,” Emil clarified, glancing down. “As usual, you’re all fluidity and grace.”

Michele cleared his throat. “Flatterer…”

“Am not.” He chuckled and moved his arm to wrap around Michele’s waist as they came to the door. Emil ushered them outside and asked Michele to wait while he hailed a cab. Seconds later, he returned, smiling brightly. “It pays to leave early,” he beamed.

Once they were inside, Michele started to feel the usual butterflies taking flight in his stomach. He always got a little nervous when they were first together after time apart. Long-distance relationships were tough, after all. No amount of phone calls could prepare him for Emil in the flesh. Even after dating for two years, it still felt so new.

“So, where are we going?” Emil asked, taking Michele’s hand in his. “Sara said not to wait up, right?” He brought their joined hands to his lips and pressed a soft kiss against each of Michele’s knuckles.

“She did, but,” Michele hesitated. “I haven’t had a chance to clean the apartment or change the sheets.” He blushed at that last part and, maybe it was the warm glow from the lamppost outside, but he could have sworn Emil had, too.

“We can go to my hotel room…” Emil gave his hand a squeeze. “If you’d like.”

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