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"Are you sure this is the right place?" Kurt asks, stepping disdainfully over what looks like a pile of rags but turns out to be a person.
"Wherever you go," the rag-person says serenely, "there you are."
"Then maybe you should go to the shower," Kurt says, wrinkling his nose.
"Kurt," Blaine hisses, pulling away by the arm. "You said you'd be nice."
"I said I'd be nice to Santana, and I will be," Kurt says. "No matter what's apparently happened to her."
"Oh hush," Blaine says, checking his phone. "She said she lived in cabin moon goddess."
"You're kidding, right?" Kurt asks, but considering the building in front of them has a hand-painted sign proclaiming it "cabin starchild," Kurt's got a sinking feeling that Blaine is telling the truth.
"Oh, the moon goddesses!" a slight redhead says, twirling her way out from behind a tree. "They're my favorites, who are you here to see?"
"Santana Lopez?" Blaine asks, smiling politely. The girl has actual flowers braided into her hair, and is walking around barefoot in a hideous floral caftan that could have come from Rachel's closet. Kurt feels unclean.
"Oh, you mean sister wind!" the girl says, smiling widely. "We love her."
"Okay, I can't do this," Kurt says, turning on his heel only to have Blaine grab his belt-loop and drag him back.
"Kurt! Blaine!" Kurt turns to see Santana emerging from a path in the woods. She's in a long, indecently sheer white dress with a crown of flowers in her head. Kurt half expects some cartoon animals to follow her out but instead a set of flushed, giggling blond twins step out behind her, one of them topless and the other one pulling her skirt up.
"How lovely to see you!" she says, her voice calm and smooth. "If you'd just follow me, I've had some herbal sun tea brewing all morning in preparation of your arrival."
Kurt shoots Blaine an uneasy look but follows him as he trails after Santana.
"Okay, spill it," Kurt says, as soon as they've rounded the cabin and are away from all the blissed-out flower children. "What's your angle?"
"My angle is love," Santana says. "Love and a greater understanding of the world around us."
"Have you been brainwashed?" Kurt asks. "Did they give you kool-aid? You're not supposed to drink the kool-aid."
"Well I think that sounds lovely," Blaine says, shooting Kurt a pointed look as Santana opens a door to cabin moon goddess and motions them inside.
"Oh god," Kurt says as he steps inside. "This whole place reeks of patchouli."
"Ugh, I know, right?" Santana says, shutting the door behind them. "It makes me want to slap myself, but the benefits outweigh the hippy-dippy costs, trust me."
"I knew it," Kurt says triumphantly, turning to point at Blaine. "I told you."
"You did not tell me, you just rolled your eyes a lot," Blaine points out. "But okay, seriously, Santana, what is going on? No one's heard from you for like a year and then suddenly you text us to meet you in upstate New York at some..." Blaine trails off, seemingly unsure of what to call their current surroundings.
"Giant smelly hippie commune," Kurt fills in helpfully.
"Look," Santana says, tossing the crown of flowers across the room, "I know you two are gay, but are you blind?"
"No, but I wish I was," Kurt says. "I can see your ovaries in that dress."
"Gross, Hummel," Santana says, rolling her eyes. "Use your precious little gay brain. I've reached nirvana here. Did you see those twins? Twins. I need to text Puck and brag about that one."
"Wait," Kurt says, narrowing his eyes. "You're hiding out on a hippie commune so you can have sex?"
"Not just sex," Santana says, tapping at the wood floor of the cabin and pulling up a loose floor board. She reaches in and comes back with a cigar and a lighter. "This shit is, like, next level. Every single girl here is practically insatiable. There's no more, 'I promise, your boyfriend never has to know!' or 'Sorry, babe, I just really don't dig on Tegan and Sara!' It's just sex. 24/7. Indoors, outdoors, alone, in groups. It's incredible."
"Tegan and Sara are actually quite good," Blaine says, and Kurt glares at him.
"Santana, this is horrible," Kurt says. "You're pretending to be someone you're not just for sex."
"Who doesn't, Mr. "Sure, Blaine, I love golfing," Santana says, lighting her cigar and rolling her eyes.
"Wait," Blaine says. "You don't like golfing?"
"That's not the point, the point is that Santana is deceiving these poor, unsuspecting girls."
"Oh please," Santana says, puffing out a ring of smoke. "Half of these girls go to NYU and Columbia in the fall and come out here all summer to get their crunchy granola lesbian on. I'm just doing them a favor."
"With your mouth," Kurt grumbles, rolling his eyes as Santana grins happily at him.
"But you said you loved golfing," Blaine says quietly.
"We'll talk about it later, honey," Kurt says, giving Blaine a quick kiss on the cheek. "First I want to find out exactly why Santana summoned us to her patchouli-scented wet dream."
"I invited you," Santana says, blowing a lungful of smoke at his face, "because I am an awesome friend and I wanted to share."
"You do realize that we, by definition, aren't interested in having sex with ladies, right?" Kurt asks.
"Of course I do, my pretty little pony," Santana says, patting his cheek. "I know that you and Warbler McShortstack over there are probably very vanilla and like to make tender love by a fire while soft jazz plays, but I just felt like I'd be a horrible friend if I didn't give you two the opportunity to get your no-strings-attached on."
"Again, Santana, gay."
"If you would let me finish," Santana says. "I have it on good authority that there's a men-only commune starting up right down the road."
"Santana, I don't think--" Blaine starts, but he's cut off by a tentative knock on the door.
"Crap," Santana hisses, stubbing her cigar out and shoving it and the lighter back under the floorboard. She lights a stick of incense and grabs her crown from the floor, hurriedly sticking it on her head. "Be cool," she throws over her shoulder as she opens the door to reveal the tiny redhead from earlier.
"Sister wind," the girl says, looking up at her hopefully. "I was hoping you had some spare time. It's been almost a week since the last time we were together."
"Well we can't have that, can we," Santana says, tucking the girl under her arm and leading her inside. "My gentlemen callers were just leaving," she says, staring at them pointedly.
"Right you are," Kurt says, rolling his eyes and grabbing Blaine's hand as he heads for the door.
"Just remember, brothers," Santana says kindly as they head out the door. "The paradise you seek is closer than you know! Two lefts and a right at the farmer's market!"
"Oooh, the farmer's market!" the redhead says. "Sister wind, can we go? I've heard such wonderful things about their tomatoes."
"Mmm hmm, sure thing!" Santana says, walking to the door to shut it after them. "Right after we're done."
"The nerve of her," Kurt says, smoothing his shirt down as they head back up the trail to their car. "Like I would ever lower myself to pretending to be a dirty hippie just to cheat on you."
"It's not cheating if we're doing it together," Blaine says with a shrug.
"You're not serious, right?" Kurt says, stopping and turning on his heel to look at Blaine right as some rather loud and enthusiastic moans start spilling from the windows of Santana's cabin.
"I was just pointing out the obvious," Blaine says, wincing as a particularly loud cry rings out.
"Yes, well, I'm going back to the car," Kurt says, walking a little faster than is strictly necessary up the path. "Feel free to go frolic with the brothers of the flying spaghetti monster or whatever it is they are," he calls over his shoulder, "but if you come back wearing hemp anything we are officially breaking up."