Blaine's afternoon was supposed to be routine. It was supposed to consist of Warbler practice, dinner, homework, and an hour or two of either chatting on Skype or watching a movie with a few of the other guys. That's all that was supposed to really happen on a Monday night. Apparently not this Monday night because Blaine's afternoon has gone steadily downhill since classes let out and it's all Kurt Hummel's fault.

It started when Kurt arrived late to practice, hair coiffed high off his pale forehead and shoes that were definitely not the regulation black loafers as mandated by Dalton policy; they were black but the heels were four inches and had zippers on either side. The blazer was the same, as was the white undershirt and tie, but those khaki pants were about two sizes two small and looked like they were caressing every slope and curve the countertenor had. It was almost obscene but it worked and, really, it wasn't even against regulation.

Still, obscene.�

Blaine shifted against the cushions and tore his eyes away from Kurt to survey the room at large. He wasn't surprised to find that the majority of Warblers hadn't noticed anything, but there were a few faces that registered the differences. Thad had been staring, Blaine was sure, since there was a telltale blush creeping up the other boy's neck and Jeff kept stealing glances and poking Nick up until the point where Kurt had sat his bag on a table along the far wall and perched on the small upright chair beside it. Blaine noted that those khakis looked even more indecent when stretched.

Practice itself went normally enough, the council argued arrangements for the invitational with Crawford next month and there was even a bit of singing to lighten the mood when the argument turned a little more heated than anyone cared for. Blaine paid attention, or tried to, through the majority of it but found himself being distracted by the quiet form in the corner. Kurt wasn't usually so quiet and that's the only reason he kept looking at the other boy out of the corners of his eyes. Yes, the only reason.

It had nothing to do with how those trousers clung to shapely calves and stretched taunt across Kurt's thighs as he crossed on leg over the other, balanced primly across his knee, or how those pale fingers tap-tap-tapped against against the side of his leg where his hands had rested. Nothing at all.

But then practice was over and everyone started to file out; Blaine stayed seated to give the others a chance to leave and not because he was finding it difficult to move from the couch. Or move in general without causing himself a bit of unpleasantness as his own khakis shifted against him. And because Blaine was acutely aware of the fact that Kurt hadn't moved from his seat, it was hard to keep the grimace off his face when it became apparent that sitting still wasn't helping matters. He had resolved himself to sitting here for the next half hour and deal with lukewarm meatloaf and limp greens once he made it to the dinning hall.

Odd how he'd been counting on spending those thirty minutes alone seeing as Kurt still hadn't moved. Well, he did move but not until all the other Warblers had left the room, leaving them alone. With each other. He certainly hadn't counted on that. Or the fact that Kurt was suddenly not in that chair anymore but standing on the other side of the couch, hand on his hip and just looking at him; When the hell had Kurt moved?!

"Oh..ah, Kurt," He stammered, wincing slightly at how his voice pitched lower than his norm.

"Blaine."

Then Kurt was pushing his shoulders back and climbing into his lap. No. Wait. What?!

"K-kurt?"

"Yes, Blaine?"

"Um, I ca-can't help but notice...ah, you're in my lap?" Oh dear God his brain, at that point, might as well have been in a pickle jar for as well as it wasn't working. Kurt had smiled then and leaned close, settling his weight nicely across Blaine's lap. That wasn't promoting brainpower either.

"I'd noticed."

"Yes. Um, why?"

"It's Monday, Blaine, and I don't particularly care to go to dinner, do homework, or watch movies tonight."

"But that's what we usually do on Mondays. Don't you like doing that?" Hey. Hey, wait! Kurt's hand was petting at his nape and that was distinctly unfair. Well, not really unfair because it felt really good and Blaine wanted him to keep doing that, but that wasn't helping to clear up his discomfort or confusion. And maybe he was a little hurt by the idea that Kurt didn't want to spend his time watching movies with him tonight. Just a little bit. And there's Kurt's other hand loosening Blaine's tie.

What?

"Don't get me wrong, Blaine, I do enjoy cuddling up on your bed and watching movies with you; they're a highlight to my Monday evenings, really. But I thought we could do something else tonight."

It's the use of "else", the way the word came out breathy and light yet so full of meaning that Blaine blames for his sudden intake of breath and the slight jolt that went straight -- well it made him squirm and that wasn't something he wanted to do since Kurt was in his lap and that made things...

"Kurt?"

"You should stop thinking and kiss me now, Anderson."

Which he did because he it sounded like a great idea except Kurt didn't let him do it for as long as he liked before he was pulling away. Blaine will never admit to making pathetic noises when Kurt moved away or that he may or may not have pouted, which he didn't. Though he will own up to the fact that he may have all but whimpered when Kurt nipped at his ear and whispered, "Tonight we're making out; the movies can wait."

Yeah, movies could definitely wait.