"Fuuuuck."

Why does the sun have to go and be so bright? Doesn't it know some people are trying to sleep. Jeff groans and drapes an arm over his eyes, dramatically, petulantly, and he doesn't even know if anyone's awake to appreciate it.

Fuck getting up. Jeff's just gonna go back to sleep. And so he lays like this for... who knows how long, his brain stubbornly refusing to black out, his fingers twitching impatiently, and his shoulder feeling all kinds of tweaked-- okay, okay. With a grumble, Jeff rolls onto his side and opens his eyes, taking stock of the situation.

He's in a bed. He's with Klaus. That checks out, since the last thing he remembers is partying with the guy, after he'd wrapped his show. Now here they are, a whole night of mysteries between them, lost in a cocktail of drugs. Jeff's got a dress on (wouldn't be the first time), some cheap slip thing, there's a discarded high heel shoe at the end of the bed (which he's pretty sure wouldn't fit either of their feet), and there's glitter in the sheets (RIP those sheets).

"Did we fuck, or did we just play dress up?"