A/N: Just a little something that wouldn't leave my mind! I'd love some reviews on this one- it should be a three parter :)

MEETING TONIGHT!

The words are huge, capitalized, and sparkling. Sebastian gives it a sneer, rolling his eyes once, before pouring the still warm coffee into the mug resting for him on the surface of the small kitchen. He leans back against the surface, avoiding the splintering edge that lost against Santana's rage last week, and gazes around as he takes a sip, the liquid scorching his tongue but jolting him more awake. The apartment is tiny, smaller than he ever thought his living conditions would be. He's pretty sure that their entire kitchen and lounge would fit four times into the choir room at Dalton, and the sofas pushed tightly into corners only serve to make the space look smaller.

That said, Kurt's managed to work his magic on the place; the first day they moved in they had all stood shocked, staring at the peeling walls, the dripping water, and the old fridge left sideways in the middle of the floor. It had taken a week or so for them to get it in good condition, and Sebastian and Santana had had the terrible task of shifting the stinking hunk of metal down the stairs and out of the apartment door, ignoring the ominous red liquid dripping slowly out of the die of it whenever they accidently banged it against a wall. Five floors had been torture; their arms aching and their lungs burning as they maneuvered the thing around corners. When they had finally made it back up to the apartment they had both sighed heavily at the sight of Rachel with two tall glasses of iced pink lemonade and a smile, and taken the glasses without comment. Kurt had been lost in thought, staring at the walls and wondering whether to keep the vibrant yellow or go for a softer magnolia.

Sebastian didn't understand why he had done it. Why he, Sebastian Smythe, had agreed to move in with possibly the craziest people he had ever met, to share a miniscule apartment in New York. He had decided that moving there would be a fresh start; a way to escape the many mistakes of his past, but he found himself basically dragging his history along with him, in the form of two very irritating girls and one sarcastic bastard who looked like he wanted to shoot Sebastian fifty percent of the time.

Of course, living with them wasn't that bad. Santana had the habit of cleaning excessively when she was pissed in order to fight back the urge to punch someone else in the mouth, which meant that despite the space, there was a very small amount of clutter. Rachel sung at the top of her lungs most nights, but she had a knack for cooking huge, sumptuous meals that filled the apartment with smells of home and delicious warmth. Kurt was a different story. He had spent weeks not speaking to Sebastian, flitting around painting stripes onto walls and assembling swatches of colour everywhere he looked. Eventually his odd silence had morphed into a quiet 'good morning', and now they had reached the point that before Kurt left for class in the morning he always left a mug on the side with the coffee already brewed for Sebastian, knowing that he would be the next to wake. Things with Kurt were rocky, at best, but Sebastian felt they had a strange kind of friendship, constantly shooting glances at each other when Rachel said something particularly ridiculous, and exchanging looks of exasperation when the girls started blazing rows with each other, so loud that the young couple living below hammered on the ceiling with a mop for some peace and quiet.

Kurt has apparently decided that this day is a day in which they are friends. There is a yellow post-it stuck to the counter, unnoticed by Sebastian as it was previously hidden by the cup. In Kurt's lilting handwriting is a quick, hurried note, obviously scribbled before he had rushed out of the apartment smelling of hairspray and straightening his navy coat.

I don't know what the hell Rachel's playing at- text me when you find out. –K

He crumples up the note and tucks it into his pocket, grabbing the first glittering note as he does. Santana's reaction to both notes won't be pretty, and he can't deal with the meltdown before he has to get to class.

"Coffee." Speak of the devil. Santana wanders out of her room, a flash of burnt umber wallpaper peeking through as the bright red door swings to a close behind her. It had been her idea; to have the doors a different colour, and when Kurt had eventually agreed they had all decided that it had been a good decision, looking back. Santana's was a bright, glossy red, shining in the morning sunlight and marred only by a black 'S' nailed onto the middle of it. Rachel's was next to hers, the door white with a large poster of Rachel on it, framed with a wide pink border. Rachel hadn't thought the idea of having her own face on the door through, and hardly a week went by in which Santana or Sebastian hadn't taped a moustache or horns to the image. The girls' doors faced the kitchen, directly in front of Sebastian as he watches Santana cross the expanse of lounge between himself and the red door.

"Coffee."

"Yeah, yeah, I heard ya." He quickly pours her a cup and places it on the faded table, the soft clunk of it loud in the quiet of the morning. She sinks into the chair, dark hair spilling across her shoulders as she slumps down, and Sebastian watches her, waiting until she is more awake before he breaks it to her. She takes three large gulps, hands gripping the cup as she blinks fully awake, and Sebastian takes a deep breath.

"Rachel's called a meeting," He croaks, voice still soft from sleep. "Any idea what about?"

"Fuck if I know, meerkat, she probably wants to paint the fucking hallway pink or something." Santana always swore in the mornings. And when she was drunk. Or angry. Or turned on (which they had all sadly found out when she had brought back the leggy redhead that one night several weeks ago).

He huffs a laugh and turns to the toaster, stomach suddenly churning with hunger. He slipped his phone into the waistband of his pajamas when he woke up, so he sends off a quick text to Kurt.

Don't know what's going on and neither does San. Can you track down Rachel and figure it out? –S

He has to wait a couple of minutes for the answer, probably until the coast is clear for Kurt to text –and that's an entertaining thought, Kurt texting under the desk like a guilty schoolboy- and when it arrives, it's as blunt as he expected.

No –K

"Kurt doesn't know what she wants either."

"Well, fuck." She sounds as sarcastic as him on a bad day, and he suddenly remembers that she was out drinking the night before; it probably feels as if wildebeest are stampeding around in her head.

There's a pause. Sebastian wonders how delicate she's feeling, how to phrase the next question.

"…Santana?" She sees through his 'nice' tone instantly, and her reply is like acid slicing through the air as her tone drops and her eyes focus and narrow, meeting his with a suspicious glare.

"What."

"You could find out."

"No." She turns back to her coffee, drumming a rhythm against it with one manicured fingertip.
"Aren't you having lunch with her today?"

"Yes."

"So…"

"No."

Sebastian sighs and leaves her to it, wandering out of the kitchen and into his room and fighting the dread in his stomach. Rachel calls meetings for any old thing, to try and promote 'unity in the apartment', but for some reason this one seems important. Rachel has been glancing at him strangely for the last week, a funny smile on her face as she followed his every move. Maybe she would ask him to leave; it wasn't as if he brought a great sense of unity to the small group as it was, and only Santana really understood how to get around him when she wanted something. He was hell to live with; stubborn, quiet and sharp-tongued, and he couldn't quite bring it in himself to blame them if they felt that the space was better with three. He dresses quickly before moving to the bathroom to brush his teeth, passing Kurt's door as he does, directly next to his own. It's the only one that is faded, a chipped pale blue that reflects the light back into the room. It's a contrast, of course, to Sebastian's; deep green and plastered in post-its and crude drunken drawings (courtesy of Santana and, on occasion, Rachel). Kurt's is clean, free of any marks, and always, always, closed.

As he leaves the apartment he notices Santana staggering back to her bedroom, black nightshirt riding up as she steps around the furniture, coffee still clasped in one hand.

"Sebastian, could you come in here for a minute?" Rachel's voice is as loud as ever, louder, perhaps, after lessons in projection at NYADA. He perches the book he was reading on top of a stack resting precariously on his desk, and stands, avoiding the pile of laundry on the floor that he's been meaning to wash and wandering into the lounge. Rachel is standing facing his door, arms crossed and a large smile stretched across her face. It's too wide; a little terrifying, and she points for him to sit on the couch in front of her with Kurt and Santana. Santana's recovered, by the looks of it; she's gesturing silently to Rachel and shifting to the side, a smirk pulling at her lips as she makes the gap between herself and Kurt wider, a clear sign for Sebastian to fold himself into the space between. He tucks his legs beneath him, careful not to let his knees bump Kurt's, and stares up at Rachel, ready for this 'meeting' to be over.

"Okay, now we're all here, I think that there's something we need to talk about. You see, I received the latest bill today- well, technically we did but as I wake up several hours before all of you I got it because I'm not lazy like some people-" This was accompanied by a dark glare at Santana, who merely shrugged and smiled up at the other girl. "But the issue is that it's very high. Too high. And now that both Kurt and Sebastian have taken to showering every single day as now you have something to do with your lives rather than play games and lie in piles of filth-"

"That's Seb, not me."

"Whatever. Anyway, we need to cut down on bills. Drastically."

Sebastian's heart sinks. This is it. This is the end of his brief period of friendship and comfort. He'll have to find another apartment, find more people to talk to, find someone else who he can complain to in the morning, and then another who sings too loud and makes a mean moussaka, and one who will leave post-its under cups just because he can and write late into the night and share exasperated looks with him. Sebastian looks around to see if any of them are looking at him, having come to the same conclusion, but they aren't. Santana still has a huge smile on her face, clacking her nails together as she fiddles with her hands. Kurt looks confused, blue eyes dark with concern as he probably thinks exactly what Sebastian is; that one has to go.

"So Santana and I had an idea- and it concerns all of us, but mostly you two." At this Kurt frowns, cocking his head to the side. Sebastian wonders what Rachel is getting at; is she kicking both of the boys out?

"So… to cut down on water, we've decided that the best idea to save is to share."

There is silence in the room for several seconds, and Sebastian is sure he sees Santana nod excitedly out of the corner of his eye. It is Kurt who breaks it, his voice ringing out.

"I'm sorry- share what, exactly?" He sounds scandalized, clearly not wanting to leap to the same conclusion as Sebastian and Santana apparently have, and Sebastian suddenly remembers the Kurt of high school, blushing and innocent.

Sebastian is sure that Santana's shoulders are shaking with quiet laughter now as Kurt tries to put together the pieces and figure out what Rachel is talking about.

"And because we're girls, Santana and I have decided that we'll share, and that means you two-"

"Wait, wait- no. No!" Kurt is shaking his head, mouth open in horror, and Sebastian feels a stab of hurt before he realizes that he should be mad too, and chips in with some logic.

"Wait a second- three of us are gay, surely it'd be easier to put me and Santana and you and Kurt-"

"No, I'm sharing with Santana." She's not budging, and the look on her face shows that she isn't going to.

"O-kay?"

"Okay."

"Wait, you can't actually be serious Rachel- you want us to share- to share…"

"Showers."

Santana cracks a smile that is pure evil.