"She keeps hounding me about Brody," Rachel says, slamming her mug down on the table, and Kurt watches as oolong tea sloshes precariously close to the edge. "And I'm pretty sure she used up the last of my conditioner. It costs $18 a bottle, Kurt!"

"It will pass," Kurt insists. "You know Santana; she has to stick her nose in someone else's business or she will spontaneously combust. And I could list all her past accomplishments for you, but we have class in 10 hours." He snickers into his coffee mug thinking of all the times Santana got up in their business back in high school when she had claimed to hate them.

If anyone had told a 16-year-old Kurt that he would one day live with both Rachel Berry and Santana Lopez, he would have had them committed for spouting such insanity.

"Kurt, I'm serious. She's a menace," Rachel says. "We need to have a serious talk with her when she gets home."

Kurt sighs and takes a sip of his tea. Rachel's right; Santana is a menace, verbally assaulting them every second of the day, butting into their business, rummaging through their belongings — and all without paying a dime of rent. It's exhausting. And she'd almost ruined his chances with Adam. Thankfully Adam was undeterred and they'd gotten past it. Wait, is he thankful for that?

Kurt shakes his head to clear the thought. He likes Adam. He does.

But Santana had been right, of course. He was thinking of Blaine while watching Moulin Rouge, but that didn't change the fact that it was inexcusable for Santana to out him in front of Adam like that. She had no right.

Confronting Santana, though. That could never end well.

"I don't know if we want to open that can of worms, Rachel."

"She's out of line, Kurt," Rachel says, whining a little and starting to sound a lot like a broken record. "And it's threatening my relationship with Brody. He hardly comes home anymore."

Kurt's eyebrows shoot up at that. "And you think it's because of her?"

"Yes!" Rachel declares, as if it's the most obvious thing she's ever said. "What else would it be?"

"I don't think it's Santana," Kurt says, pretty sure Santana's right that there is something shady going on with Brody, even though he won't say so right now. "And anyway, she's got nowhere else to go. We can't just kick her out."

"We should still have a family meeting about it," Rachel says, heading off toward her room, leaving her tea behind, along with an undecided Kurt.

Kurt sips his tea as he mulls over Rachel's concerns. Santana is definitely out of line, but she's got a point: Brody is a creep. On the other hand, he's Rachel's boyfriend, and he's paying rent. Kurt decides he'll have the meeting with Rachel and Santana, if that's what Rachel wants, but he's not taking sides. Not yet.

"You're in denial, Prancy Smurf."

"Lay off it, Santana."

"I'm just saying, if you've still got his picture tucked away in your dresser, you're still in love with him."

"I told you. We're just friends," Kurt insists, for what feels like the millionth time. "I'm allowed to have photos of my friends."

"Not in your underwear drawer — and I'm going to ignore that you have more than one pair with little black birds on them. And the thong? That's just plain weird."

He tries to hide his reaction to that. The blackbird underwear had been a private joke between him and Blaine, and he's really not keen on explaining that to Santana right now, and there's no need to give her more ammunition. "You're still friends with Brittany," Kurt says, knowing full well that he might be about to unleash the seventh circle of hell on himself.

"Yeah, and it's confusing as hell," she says, matter-of-factly. Her face softens at that. "You can't hide from me, Kurt. I've been there."

"You slept with Quinn."

"Doesn't mean I didn't want it to be Brit."

"And sleeping with Blaine doesn't mean I'm still in love with him."

"But it does mean you're being unfair to Adam."

"That is entirely beside the point," Kurt says.

"It's no different than Rachel sneaking around with Gigantor behind Fabio's back at Mr. Schue's wedding."

"It's completely different!" Kurt shouts. He's not even in a relationship with Adam. Or at least he doesn't think he is.

"Why?" Santana says, smirking. "Because you still love him?" Her eyes narrow, and Kurt wants to smack the smug look right off her face. "See, the problem here is you know I'm right, and I think it's pissing you off."

"You have no idea what you're talking about," Kurt says, throwing his arms up in exasperation. He's nearly simmering over with barely contained rage, and he just wants her to shut the fuck up. "Blaine and I are JUST FRIENDS!"

"Quack," Santana says, flapping her arms exaggeratedly and giving him her best "bitch, please" look. "Quack, quack, quack."

"What the fuck is that supposed to mean?"

"What it means, Hummel, is if it walks like a duck and quacks like a fucking duck..."

"This conversation is over," Kurt says, storming off to his section of the loft and disappearing behind his partition.

"Quack," she calls out loud enough that it echoes on the brick walls.

"Shut up, Satan."

"Quack!"

"Mind your own business!"

Kurt flings himself down on his bed and starts to seriously consider Rachel's idea about giving Santana an ultimatum. Why can't they kick both Brody and Santana out? Things were much simpler when it was just him and Rachel — when there wasn't someone in his face every minute of the day reminding him of Blaine. Rachel understood. He didn't talk about Finn, and she didn't talk about Blaine, but Santana had lived with them for just under a month, and she missed no opportunity to bring up either.

Okay, so Brody is a little creepy, but him sitting naked on Kurt's furniture is nowhere near as annoying as Santana grilling him for an hour after she overheard him helping Blaine with his solo for glee. Just because they were singing together, it didn't mean anything. She is being ridiculous. Why can't Santana go back to being the snarky cheerleader who hated their duet of "Perfect" and called them stupid names? Why can't she just leave him alone?

That afternoon, when Rachel gets back from her vocal performance class, Kurt is waiting for her.

"Okay, you win," he says. "Santana is out of control."

Rachel's ear-piercing squeal and the subsequent full-body hug she engulfs him in, make Kurt question his decision almost immediately. But his regret lasts only for a moment, because he sees his fluffiest pillow lying on the couch, a smudge of bright red lipstick glaring at him from his brand new, 500-thread-count pillowcase, and he feels the rage bubble up again.

He's sick of her meddling; it's not fair. He'll just ignore the fact that Santana is absolutely right about everything. If she's not there, she can't keep reminding him that he's still in love with Blaine. Without Santana around, maybe he can keep up the careful façade he's spent months building up. Who cares if it's under the guise of her making Brody and Rachel uncomfortable? It's not his problem that she has nowhere else to go. She's the one who showed up in New York without a plan.

"Either she shapes up, or she ships out," Kurt says, face set in a determined scowl.

He's just not ready to face the truth yet.