"Santana, what...?" Kurt frowns at the girl addressed, as she puts her hands on Kurt's shoulders and pushes him down onto the couch to sit. More gently than roughly, but still.

She purses primly painted lips at him: "I have the perfect song for you."

Kurt blinks. "Excuse me?" He shakes his head in surprise, and Santana somehow manages a grin and an annoyed huff at the same time.

When Kurt still insists on looking unimpressed, though, she falters:

"I mean, that thing you do, with your little boyfriend, that serenading thing."

She turns her head as there's a light rap on Kurt's room door. The corners of her mouth twitch up. "Speaking of whom..."

Kurt's look flits to the door and indeed, right on cue, a dark curly head appears in the doorway: "Hey guys, I got the text, what's the occa... "

"You've ordered him to my place, too?" Kurt actually stands again now, hands on his hips.

Santana raises her brows in self-evidence, voice a growl: "Well of course, how else is he going to hear it?"

"Hear what?" Blaine steps up next to them, placing a gentle hand on the small of Kurt's back in way of greeting and smiles at them respectively. Expectantly.

Santana sweetly returns Blaine's smile: "Kurt's going to sing you a song."

"Oh, really?" Blaine turns back to him, beaming.

Kurt's face falls. "Wait, I... No." Blaine's brows bunch up, puzzled, and Santana grunts.

Shaking his head now with increasing fervour, Kurt blurts out, tone chilled: "Santana, I surely won't sing a song you have written - I'm still trying to get over Trouty Mouth, thank you - and above all one you've written in my place to my boyfriend, with lyrics that I haven't even laid eyes on, and probably would be better off never ever doing so..."

Rolling her eyes, Santana cuts him short by grabbing his the wrist unceremoniously, trying to drag him further to the center of the room:

"Come here, stand, sing." The order is accompanied by her pushing a sheet of paper at him that she unfolds, having pulled it from – Kurt groans, because, where else – her cleavage.

He immediately leans away from the offending piece, but can't help taking a glimpse of the title, printed in bold black letters across the top. His eyes grow big, and he throws his hands up stiffly, the sheet flapping to the ground:

"Oh, no. If it's called that, I definitely don't think I want to sing that..."

Santana glares at him and bends to pick up the paper: "Oh, well, it figures! I should have known that you'd be too much of a prude." Kurt's mouth drops open, but Santana skates over it, her demeanour changing abruptly, squinting to and fro between Kurt and Blaine. She props one hand up on her hip, sly grin reappearing, boding nothing but ill. She clears her throat:

"As it is, because I'm good, I actually did know. I mean, that you might take that position. So... I have prepared to sing it in your stead." She turns with grace and a look of attitude back over her shoulder, pointing two fingers at them: "Sit."

Blaine is about to follow the clipped imperative, when Kurt's glare hits him from the side. He jumps to his feet again somewhat ruefully, face slightly distorted as if...suppressing a grin? Kurt adds another pointed look just for that.

Santana merely shrugs, unfazed:

"Alright, stand then, not that I care..."

Kurt huffs and his arms cross over his chest. Blaine fidgets next to him on the edges of Kurt's sight, while Santana takes up a pose some steps away from the couch, throwing her hair back:

"So okay, Blaine, as I said, it's from Kurt's perspective, so you can just imagine I am Kurt singing this to you..."

"Oh, no, definitely don't..." Kurt sputters in protest. But wait... is that laughter that Blaine is trying to stifle? Kurt's mouth stays open in light indignation, when Santana huffs loudly again: "Oh, shut it, now. Brit?"

She turns her head to beckon at the blonde girl, who up to now has been sitting on Kurt's bed twirling her hair between her fingers. Thus cued, though, she eagerly leaps into action, and with a smile presses the play button on the boombox.

One eyebrow cocked, Santana offers the sheet to Kurtone last time, but he shakes his head vehemently, look piqued. Her lips form the word 'fine' soundlessly, while she glowers at him. Then she resumes her stance to begin.

The first notes of the intro carry through the room and confirm Kurt's worst fears. His whisper to Blaine is only short above a defeated groan:

"I think if I really have to, I'd rather take this one sitting..."

Blaine blinks, tugging his chin closer to his chest, trying to keep his lopsided grin - yes now it is showing - from growing too big. Kurt grumbles and they let themselves sink down onto the couch.

Kurt makes a show of sitting straight, keeping up a pose of detached dignity, while inwardly he's cussing. That girl, how can she even, how does she dare... Defying gravity! He folds his arms over his chest more tightly. It's not like he had it in the back of his mind to someday use this song to serenade Blaine, no, why would he. Tsk. And now she goes and steals it from him and... oh, this can't end well.

Then Santana starts to sing:

"Something has changed within me..."

Kurt slumps into his seat a little. It is strange, hearing the song with her smoky, kind of raspy quality to the voice, although she's clearly aiming at mimicking Kurt's style of singing.

As if that would do her any good now, Kurt inwardly scoffs. But then his features soften a bit, his civility getting the better of him. Well, a bit of curiosity, too, maybe:

"Something is not the same...

It stirs down in my stomach...

And yes, I think you're to blame..."

Santana points her index finger at Blaine, and Kurt risks a glance at his boyfriend, who seems to bite his lip in amused anticipation. Traitor.

"Or maybe teenage hormones,

whoever is to say...

But before it leaps to freedom,

Maybe we should pray:"

And she actually brings her palms together in front of her chest, a gesture all the more... interesting, Kurt settles on politely, for the view down the low neckline of her shirt in the background. And he can't but dread the direction that this is headed...

"It's time to try

to defy depravity..."

With a groan Kurt buries his face in his hands. Not to hide a grin, of course. Surely not. Well, maybe just a little... a grin of desperation. Must be.

"Someone must try

to defy depravity...

The stakes are high,

let's defy depravity...

'Cause the children gotta learn..."

Santana has put her fist, that she held raised throughout the chorus, above her heart at the last line, and Kurt shakes his head at her, mouth open, slightly scandalized. Which merely gets a broader smile from her. She kicks the drama even up a bit:

"We have to save these lost souls...

Kids are such whores these days...

So maybe we can teach them,

that yes, there are different ways...

We'll be the model couple,

poster boys of chastity..."

Is Blaine really grunting beside him? Is he ... laughing? Kurt swats at Blaine's arm warningly. Because, really. Really, right?

"We'll shower them with sweetness

until maybe in time they'll see:

The tide is high,

let's defy barbarity...

Better be shy

and defy profanity...

Better comply...

and defy horizontality...

'Cause goodies must be earned..."

Kurt swallows a gasp. The last line is emphasized by a hip move that looks vaguely familiar... wait... oh. Oh. So Brittany has obviously shown Santana the Single Ladies video, too... Kurt groans again inaudibly. Yes, the leer on Santana's face right now strongly suggests that.

Next to him, Blaine brings up a hand and presses his knuckles to his twitching lips, shoulders shaking, struggling to look composed, as he surely has caught Kurt's blush in the corner of his eye.

"People unite,

and we'll fight depravity...

The goal's in sight,

see the light,

fight amorality...

I sacrifice

my love life

so they might see..."

Kurt's mouth opens again in an impulse of protest, because really, that is so not true, he has a love life! But when he feels Blaine's hand come down on his, thumb stroking soothingly, though quivering with held back laughter, he slumps with a grumble back into the seat and lets Santana finish, her fist and eyes raised skywards once more.

"The children gotta learn...

...gotta learn

Ohohohohhhhhh..."

As soon as the last note has ended, Brittany breaks out into cheers.

Kurt's breath catches when Blaine joins in with some hesitant claps beside him, ebbing away as he checks back with Kurt in a side glance. But the pillows of the couch keep bouncing and almost vibrate with Blaine's excitement and subdued laughter. Kurt aims for smooth features and raised eyebrows, when Santana's cocksure grin meets him:

"That was... disturbing... "

He clears his throat with a distinguished cough and makes a point of sitting unmoving in his seat. Because it somehow was, right? And annoying. Inappropriate. And above all incorrect. Because, oh, if Santana knew... Something inside Kurt chuckles somewhat darkly, then. He bites his lip, trying to keep his features smooth. Okay, so maybe it was a tiny bit funny, too.

Santana snorts at his carefully blank expression, but clearly in amusement: "Right, disturbing, my choice of words exactly." Her hands are at her waist again, perfectly manicured nails tapping dangerously. Kurt braces himself despite himself, when she takes a deep breath:

"Your behaviour is disturbing, You're teenage boys, for crying out loud." She flails and brings her hips forward to accentuate her rant, gaining spirits: "I mean, just now, look at you! Oh my god, your shoulders are touching! So freaking charming... " Kurt feels Blaine's muscles tense next to him through the connection, yes, of their shoulders, but he refuses, resists the urge to lean away, caught. He hears Blaine chuckle under his breath, though, and he doesn't know if Santana can hear it as well, but she seems to reach the peak of her lecture, her eyes sparkling with passion:

"So if you really need someone to tell you, very well then, here it is: Come on, do us all a favour and get some." She is met with two carefully frozen expressions then, but doesn't stop: "Because, really, you're so sweet, I'll get cavities in my teeth from just being around you..." She looks at them with exasperation, then puffs out a breath, murmuring rather to herself: "Hey, look there, depravity-cavity, why didn't I think to use that as a rhyme..."

She shrugs, then directs the full force of her inspired annoyance at them again: "But really, the way you dance around each other in public..."

"It's called privacy!" Kurt has been shooting her pointed looks all along, but this time she meets it at last, and he finds his voice. She narrows her eyes at his cheeks' high blush, and something in her expression seems to shift at the sight. A smile flashes across her face, but is gone so fast, that Kurt's not sure if he's seen it, after all.

"Yeah, well, that would have been a rather poor rhyme, wouldn't it?" She scoffs, and it's a half-laugh, while she studies her nails as if already losing interest.

And at that all Kurt can do is gape at her. At the edge of his sight next to him, he sees Blaine doing the same, even if his boyfriend is still chewing his lip trying to block that grin, that makes his shoulders quiver.

Kurt's eyes close for a second, but he still can't seem to pinpoint or put a finger on what he's supposed to make of this, after all.

"Santana, you... I don't even..."

The dark haired girl affords the two of them a bored look, then rolls her eyes, not bothering to wait for Kurt to find the words. She huffs.

"Oh, nevermind. Come, Brit, I said what I had to say, we'll be off then."

"Santana?" Kurt's tone is incredulous, baffled at her sudden retreat, but still he's not sure what he's calling her back for, and he bites his tongue. When she turns once more at the door, that trade mark look of detached annoyance is put on again, yet dark eyes are glinting in their depths:

"Well, what are you waiting for? That..." Her finger indicates their surroundings with a circle in the air, "...is called opportunity. Now, get your mack on!"

And with that she leaves them staring.

After her at first.

Then at each other.

They swallow.

And maybe, just maybe, those stares turn into slow grins, then.

Only a little, of course.

Because, really. Really, right?