Underline

A/N: You are not allowed to judge me for the fact that this was the first association I had with the word "underline." This chapter goes along with my story for the prompt "Mist."

Kurt was a couple of blocks from the store when he realized he'd forgotten his wallet at home. With a muttered curse, he turned back to retrieve it.

He entered the apartment quietly, not wanting to disturb Blaine. Part of the reason he'd gone to the store alone was to give Blaine a chance to finish his term paper in peace and quiet. He was having a hard time with this one, and Kurt could sympathize.

However, upon entering, he discovered two things. One, Blaine wasn't at the table on the computer where Kurt had left him ten minutes earlier. Two, the apartment was far from quiet.

But I got smarter, I got harder in the nick of time
Honey, I rose up from the dead, I do it all the time

It appeared that Kurt's beloved was employing his theory of getting up and moving to shake out the cobwebs from his brain. Well, maybe not his brain, technically, as he was currently standing in the living room, hands on the back of the couch, backside sticking out and yes, twerking. He was wearing his headphones, singing loudly and twerking. To Taylor Swift.

I've got a list of names and yours is in red, underlined
I check it once, then I check it twice, oh!

On the "oh," Blaine turned around to find Kurt standing in the doorway, one hand over his mouth to keep from laughing and the other holding up his phone, presumably recording.

"Oh my god, Kurt!" he exclaimed, ripping off his headphones hastily. "You scared the living crap out of me!"

"Sorry," Kurt offered, giggling. "Don't let me stop you. Please, by all means – continue," he added with a smirk.

Blaine sighed and gave Kurt a glare, though there was no heat behind it. "No, that's okay," he sneered. Crossing back to the table, he mumbled under his breath, "God, why is there always someone taking video of me when I do that?"

"Um, how's that again?" Kurt inquired, his interest piqued.

Blaine's eyes went wide. "Nothing, nothing," he answered, a little too quickly. He set his headphones down and resumed his place in front of the computer. "What are you doing back so soon?" he asked, staring at the screen and doing a really bad job at pretending to type.

"Forgot my wallet. Not important. You said 'always,' Blaine," he countered, moving closer. "Who's got video of you shaking that pretty little behind, hmm?" he teased, walking his fingers up Blaine's arm until Blaine shook him off.

"No one. Nothing. Never mind. Just get your wallet, okay?"

"Well, if you won't tell me…" Kurt trailed off, tapping away at his phone as he opened up a group text. Someone from the New Directions must know of this, he thought.

Blaine was up from his chair like a shot, grabbing for the phone. "No!" he cried. Kurt was quicker, though, and pulled the phone out of Blaine's reach, taking a few steps back. Blaine smiled slyly and began slowly prowling towards Kurt. "Come on, Kurtie. Give me the phone," he cajoled.

The game was on.

Just before Blaine reached him, Kurt squealed and took off running. The two ran through the house, around (and, in Blaine's case, sometimes over) the furniture, laughing the whole way. Finally, Blaine faked Kurt out and doubled back, trapping him against the wall with his hands on either side of Kurt's head. Kurt held his hand up as high as he could, knowing his slight height advantage would put it out of Blaine's reach. He gave Blaine a victorious smile.

In response, Blaine crowded closer, pressing his chest to Kurt's. His gaze flicked from Kurt's eyes to his lips and back up, and then he leaned in and, with a quick intake of breath, kissed Kurt. Hard. Within seconds, Kurt melted into the kiss, whimpering softly and draping his arms around Blaine's shoulders.

He was so enthralled with the kiss, he didn't notice the shift in Blaine's stance as he made a swift movement and snatched the phone from Kurt's hand where it had wrapped around his shoulder. Blaine pulled away slowly, with a final nip to Kurt's lower lip and a smug grin on his face. He stepped away from Kurt (carefully, as Kurt looked a little woozy), then held up the phone and wiggled it in front of Kurt triumphantly. He began to sing as he stepped backwards:

"Ooh, look what you made me do, look what you made me do, look what you just made me do, look what you just made me…oof!"

For the second time that day, his singing was interrupted, only this time, it was by Kurt tackling him and falling down on top of him on the couch. The phone and Kurt's trip to the store were soon forgotten.

Later that night, Blaine finished the best term paper of his life, proving his theory once and for all. Kurt never questioned him on it again.

A/N: Sorry for the late post – had to get the lights on the tree! I'll do my best the next couple of days, but there's lots to do. I've got so much to do, I've got so much to do, I've got so much to…damn you, Taylor Swift! Get out of my head!