It's a well known fact that the combination of a Mexican third eye and unmatched wit makes Santana one well informed bitch.  Maybe she's intuitive or observant or just plain nosy.  Whatever you call it, one thing is for sure: Santana knows entirely too much about Kurt and Blaine.

She knows God was on her side when Blaine opted out of moving into the loft with them.  She would consider it a victory if it weren't for the fact that he and Trouty Mouth never seem to leave. 

She knows that Blaine does in fact know every lyric to every song Katy Perry has ever sung.

 She knows that they sneak kisses during movie night when they think no one is looking.

 She knows that Blaine and Pocket Lesbian Beibs have a slightly awkward obsession with building pillow forts in the living room of the loft. On more than one occasion she's had to shove them out the door after a grueling graveyard shift at the diner because, let's face it, there is something very homo-erotic about two grown men playing with X-Men action figures.

 She knows that Blaine prefers juice over Diet Coke, but never complains when Kurt hands him one. Occasionally the small boxes of fruit flavored sugar will appear in their fridge alongside the annoyingly juvenile string cheese sticks. Kurt will swear up and down he didn't buy them and Rachel will admit that she hasn't been grocery shopping in weeks. Santana keeps quiet, smirking around spoonfuls of whatever vegan concoction Rachel made for breakfast that day.

 She knows that Hummel can do the splits. And there is no conceivable way that he's hiding any sort of man meat in those sinfully tight jeans. And his obsession with brooches should be considered an act against God. And he's a freak of nature.

 She knows that on Wednesdays Kurt will take the Red Line from Vogue to NYADA to meet Blaine after classes. They always arrive back at the loft smelling of coffee and cheesecake after what she can only assume was another one of Blaine's strangely coordinated musical numbers in Central Park. Seriously, how does he do that?

 She knows Blaine prefers to hold Kurt's right hand when they walk together. The reason still remains unknown but she figures it's some strange genetic Hobbit habit he picked up in the freakishly polite prep-school of a Shire he came from. 

She knows they favor the hideously tattered armchair over the couch. It has a horrible view of the television but it forces them to sit close and touch entirely too much. It's a bit nauseating, if she's being honest.

 She knows the videos of their time in Glee Club are tucked away in the chest where they store extra blankets. Blaine and Kurt pull them out from time to time, enjoying ‘the musical story of their love', or whatever it is they call it. Rachel always leaves the room on these occasions and Santana knows it's because of Finn.  She usually leaves her to her own devices; headphones shoved over her ears, singly loudly in the shower, the occasional spur of the moment coffee run. But every once in awhile, when Rachel's corner of the room gets too quiet, Santana joins her. Because maybe somewhere, deep inside a place she doesn't visit often, she doesn't feel like remembering either.  

 She knows Lady Hummel's closet is an inch away from a casting call for the next Narnia installment and the amount of bowties Boy Wonder has stuffed in his drawers is insulting.  He seemed politely offended by Santana pointing this out until the realization that she was rifling through his belongings during a visit dawned on him.  She assured him that her trip to the bathroom was purely innocent.  Honestly.  He wasn't even home when she went looking through Striptease Ken's chapstick stash for signs of drug use. She had a key to their apartment made months ago. 

She knows Sebastian is now a close friend of theirs and despite the fact that he's Kinsey Six gay he stares at her ass when she and Lady Lips do yoga in the living room. 

 She knows that Blaine is in fact a five-year-old child trapped in the body of a twenty-something year old man who dresses like her Uncle Milton. And dances like stripper. And sings like an angel. And is a freak of nature.

She knows they have a mating dance. It's a nauseating sight; Blaine shuffling his feet and throwing the most indecent bedroom eyes over his shoulder while Kurt shimmies toward him.

She knows they call Burt and Carole every Thursday night at seven thirty.

 She knows their children will be freaks of nature.

 And she knows for a fact they've had sex in Rachel's bed.  The smell of raspberry hair gel is all over that pink pillow but there is absolutely no way in hell she is telling her.

 But if you take away the rainbows and the glitter and ignore how vomit inducing their every movement is, Santana knows above all else, they love each other. And even though she would never admit to it, she kind of loves them too.