Kurt secretly loving shitty pop music is my reason to live, y'all. Also, only rated T for slight cursing, but better safe than sorry.
Kurt absolutely loved living with his best friends and his fiance in New York. They had freedom, they had weekly karaoke nights, and most importantly, they weren't in the fucking Midwest anymore. However, it got kind of tiring sometimes trying to get a little alone time. Rachel always wanted help running lines, Santana always barged in on him if she was bored, and Blaine was just too energetic sometimes to be a good lounging partner.
That afternoon, however, Kurt was finally all alone in the loft until the other three got back from their shifts at the diner that evening, and he was taking full advantage of that time. He'd already done his Sweatin' to the Oldies workout tape, and he was planning on making himself a perfectly unhealthy sandwich for lunch before watching Magic Mike again. (Not that he couldn't watch that movie when everyone was home, but Blaine would always blanch when Ken came on, claiming he looked too much like Cooper for him to get into it, Rachel would always talk through the best parts, and Santana made too many lewd comments for a lesbian. It was easier to enjoy that movie by himself.)
Kurt dragged out his iPod dock and plugged it in in the kitchen, turning up his secret relaxation playlist, titled "Kurt's Music Theory Homework" to keep anyone from playing it when they decided to have spontaneous dance parties. Nothing stopped Santana's groove faster than hearing 17th century classical come blasting through the speakers, and stopping Santana's groove was a one-way ticket to Nair in your shampoo, as he'd found out last month. Before he could get too caught up in revenge plans, though, an older Taylor Swift song started blaring through the apartment, and Kurt let himself get caught in one of his jams.
"Can't you see that I'm the one who understands you? Been here all along, so why can't you see-ee-eeeee, you belong with me-ee-eeeee, you belong with me," he sang as he added another layer of mayo to his sandwich. Just as he was throwing himself into a spin to get closer to the sink, he heard the loft door start to slide open, causing him to trip over his own feet. He fell on his ass as voices began to permeate the apartment.
"What was that crashing noise?" Elliott asked.
"Why is Taylor Swift blasting?" Santana followed up.
"Did Kurt steal my iPod?" Rachel queried angrily.
"Kurt? You okay, babe?" Blaine asked, concerned. "Where are you?"
"Down here, B," Kurt huffed out resignedly. He saw Blaine quickly scurry into his line of sight and extend a hand, which Kurt took gratefully to hoist himself up. Once he was upright, he saw that Dani was also with the group that had returned home, apparently too stunned to speak if the look on her face was any indication.
"Are you seriously playing Taylor Swift right now?" she asked after a moment. "Last week you told me that modern pop music was too plebeian for your cultured tastes when I suggested we do 'Hot N Cold' at our next gig."
"You said no to a Katy Perry song?" Blaine interjected, pouting at Kurt sadly.
"Hey, don't give me that face!" Kurt yelped. He pulled Blaine in for a hug, incapable of ignoring his wounded expression. "I just needed an excuse to not do that particular Katy Perry song. I never liked that one."
"All of Ms. Perry's songs are a gift from above, Kurt," Blaine said seriously, staring directly at Kurt. Kurt could see Elliott trying to stifle a snicker behind his hand at that statement out of the corner of his eye.
"That doesn't explain why you're currently blasting teenybopper pop music, though," Santana said, steering them back toward Dani's original topic. "Especially since you demanded I change the station yesterday when One Direction came on the radio so it wouldn't, and I quote, 'burn your eardrums out of your head.'"
"Okay, okay, fine, I like cheesy pop music!" Kurt said, throwing his hands up in frustration. "I like Taylor Swift, I like the Jonas Brothers, and I like One Direction. I just hate admitting it because it doesn't help my already-tenuous street cred. I'm trying to run a respectable band, not the gay alternative to S Club 7."
"Oooooh, can we do an S Club 7 song?" Elliott asked, looking excited. The rest of the room gave him questioning stares. "What? Everybody Wants Ya is catchy."
Before Santana could verbally reduce Elliott to so much eyeliner and leather, a familiar guitar riff came blaring out of Kurt's speakers. Rachel gasped and squealed "I love this song!" before starting to dance around the living room. Blaine quickly ran over to her and began to sing along, the both of them looking like a pair of overgrown five year olds as they began to belt.
"I'm steppin' into the lava, and I'mma try to keep from going under. Baby, you turn the temperature hotter, 'cause I'm burnin' up, burnin' up for you baby!"
"No. This is not happening in my own home," Santana said, disgust dripping from her voice. Dani just patted her arm sympathetically, though Kurt could see her foot tapping along to the beat. As the next verse began, Blaine shimmied over and dragged Kurt into his and Rachel's dance circle, saying, "It's on your iPod, that means you have to join us!" Kurt didn't waste a second getting into it – his fiance was trying to steal his signature dance move, dammit!
"Well, if you can't beat 'em," Elliott said, and he came over to boogie with Rachel and the other boys, too. Rachel immediately grabbed his hands and got him to spin her, prompting Blaine to do the same thing to Kurt.
"I hate you all," Santana huffed, but Kurt just ignored her and kept on dancing, happy that his friends were just as uncool as him.
