Author's note - This will probably be long, and slow. Fair warning.

Here's a story about everyone being fine.

And by fine, I mean broadly satisfied with the general direction their life has taken.

Happy-ish for eighty per cent of the time, shall we say. Sounds like a winning combination.

Sounds like enough.

Rachel gnaws mindlessly at the end of her pencil for a moment, and lets her gaze drift to the margin, where she's drawn a series of cubes, and a slightly lopsided spiral, reaching for an unknown destination.

Eight per cent sounds a trifle high…

Kurt clatters something in the kitchen abruptly, and Rachel jumps, before deciding that she didn't just jump.

'Whose idea was it to balance Tupperware on top of the coffee machine?'

Rachel shrugs, unseen, and carefully rips the page from her notepad.

'I couldn't imagine. Certainly only the most forward thinking of individuals could hope to…'

There's a louder, more terminal sounding crash, and after a moment a head appears around her doorframe.

'Breakfast in the park?' Kurt queries brightly, innocence personified. 'I find minor disasters such as possibly broken coffee makers always easier to face on a full stomach.'

Rachel sighs, but then smiles, because for how long has she been waiting to say yes to suggestions like this?

Eighty per cent, she thinks.

'Why not? It looks lovely out there.'

Her hand strays towards the bin on the way out, but in the end the note (memo? Reminder?) makes its way to her back pocket, tightly folded.

Rachel stretches, and watches her own fingers, watches the way they flex and steeple together.

'I'm not even sure what I'm complaining about. I'm fine. Really. Brody is lovely, you've seen how pleasant he is, we never row because he's so nice. It's just… I don't know.'

Kurt rearranges his shirt sleeves for a moment, and then tips his sunglasses in her direction.

'If it is any comfort, I was not aware that you were complaining until just now. I thought you were listing Brody's good qualities, in an odd attempt to make me jealous of your thoroughly heterosexual relationship.'

Rachel snorts momentarily, and smacks Kurt on the leg, ignoring his yelp of outrage. A female jogger passes them, and musters the effort to roll her eyes at their antics. Rachel glares at her retreating back, and waits until she's disappeared into the throng of spring exercisers before speaking again.

'They are good qualities. He's consistently nice, talented without being an egomaniac, supportive, caring, attractive,…'

'Not asking you to marry him,' Kurt cuts in 'not abruptly deciding to join the army.'

Rachel looks at Kurt, stony faced, until Kurt raises both eyebrows in protest.

'Not so much taller than you that he risks suffering the Bends every time he leans over to kiss you, I mean come on Rachel. We go through this every time. Brody is a shorter, more suited to you, version of Finn. I've reconciled to this, you've reconciled to this, Brody, the poor boy, has accepted his fate of being Finn , case closed. Move on; by which I mean, continue being obnoxiously happy with Brody.

Rachel bites her lip, and lifts her feet from the ground, points her toes as if she's still twelve.

Twelve was good. She was certain, when she was twelve.

'Did you ever wonder whether you were with the right person, when you were with Blaine?'

Kurt sighs, and pokes an unyielding finger into her side, making Rachel squeal.

'Sometimes,' Kurt announces heavily, ignoring her completely, 'but that's human nature, I think. The grass is always greener. And now I miss him, and wonder. But I enjoy being single, so…'

He trails off, and looks momentarily forlorn.

'We're a bit young Rachel, to be counting the woes of our love lives, aren't we? Some may disagree, but I'd say we're still reasonably attractive. So have fun with the attractive Brody and his lovely chest. And stop it with all the 'what ifs' please, you're making me somber and it doesn't suit my expression.'

Rachel has very thorough sex with Brody that night.

She shies away from describing it as such, really, because thorough sounds oddly methodical and exhaustive, but she can't think of another word, because that's how it is, with Brody.

Every inch of her skin is mapped, and she feels worshiped and indulged, and really rather wonderful when she comes the first time, and the second.

By the third, she doesn't know why she isn't feeling more than just satisfaction.

Rachel worries, in the morning.

Worries that she's over thinking this.

Worries that she's being ungrateful, somehow.

Worries that the piece of paper fell out of her jeans, and that Brody will find it.

Brody leaves just before lunch, kissing her at the threshold like they're teenagers. When she closes the door, Rachel can't quite meet Kurt's eye.

Kurt makes up for this by swooning across the length of their throw-covered sofa.

'Oh, he's so dreamy.'

Rachel snorts, and flicks a cushion at his feet.

'Acting skills suffer from lack of practice, you know.'

'Whatever sweetie, I'm glad you came to a decision.'

Kurt sits up, and tucks his feet together primly.

'I'm heading out, to buy myself some ear plugs. Or possibly to buy you a gag, I haven't decided yet.'

Her facebook is a mess.

Rachel knows she really needs to unfriend some people, because half of these faces she only recognises from the dry side of a slushie, but she's always had a thing about quantative data. Numbers-wise, it's impressive. So many friends for such a young life.

Qualitively speaking, Rachel's a bit lost. Kurt thinks Brody is 'wonderful', Mercedes and Tina hardly know him, the people at NYADA are too close (Rachel tries to avoid drama, these days), Quinn is… Quinn is in New Haven.

Part of Rachel thinks it is unfair to discuss Brody with Quinn; recently she's been trying to speak to Quinn in a language that doesn't revolve around how they relate to boys.

Santana is probably the worst possible person to speak to about this.

Rachel sighs, and reaches for her phone anyway.

'Wait, Tiny Dancer has stopped do it for you? What happened, you've decided that you no longer find attractiveness attractive?'

Santana is the worst possible person to speak to about this. Rachel dumps a heap of sugar in her coffee, because this is an emergency. Santana, when she looks back at her, is licking foam off her spoon in a manner Rachel is certain must be illegal in several states. She averts her eyes.

'He's not stopped…'doing it' for me, as such, it's just all a bit…'

Rachel trails off, because Santana had snorted.

'Oh, I know that. Kurt rang me last night, and held his phone up to your wall, because he felt at least someone should be appreciating your audition for America's next top porn star.'

Rachel blushes hard, for abstract reasons not at all linked to the continued attention Santana is giving her spoon.

'Santana, stop that.' Rachel glares at her until the spoon gets dropped. 'The sex is fine, clearly. Relationships aren't just about sex, you know.'

The way Santana rolls her eyes, and then frowns hard reminds Rachel of McKinley.

'Thanks for that pearl of wisdom, Dr Phil. Can we just agree that the sex is pretty important? If this was just about friendship compatibility, you'd be shagging Kurt. Or be long distancing scissoring Tina. These concepts are weirding me out.'

Rachel doesn't know why everyone she asks suddenly seems so Team Brody, but there it is.

'I'm sorry to have taken up your valuable time. I was just wondering whether relationships are supposed to be about settling for compromise; however you've made your views clear. It was nice to see you Santana.'

She's leaving half a coffee behind, but if Santana thinks she's still stuck in junior year, she can damn well exercise her right to storm out.

Kurt will never admit this to anyone, ever.

NYADA would have been a mistake, born out of an age old desire to best Rachel.

The fashion business, however… this could be his thing. This is fun even when he isn't trying to prove a point or confound critics and nay-sayers.

And, well, granted, at the moment he's doing a great deal of running around, chasing up requests, and generally being New York's most fashion forward dogs-body, but at least people don't tell him off for being true to himself when he turns up for work wearing a top with built in shoulder pads.

Just for the silhouette.

Kurt's been a runner here for nearly nine months, but for the last two months he's been invited along to a feature shoot, and he's certain that if he keeps pushing there'll be an opening, somewhere. There'll be another rung.

His phone chimes, and he reaches for it, making sure his face indicates that one of the sub-editors has a really vital job that only he can possibly attend to.

Kurtsy, when you see Rachel please tell her that if she pulls the storming off crap on me again I'm revoking her visitation rights to Quinn. And be gentle with her tonight, I think she is actually having some kind of melt-down over Brody's never-ending supply of niceness and charm, the reasonable bastard.

Kurt sighs, and tucks his phone away. The beautiful man across the office catches his eye, and Kurt finds himself inventing wildly.

'Need to rearrange the stylist for the 'trending' shoot.'

Kurt receives a look that indicates that there wasn't really a question that needed answering, and he mentally slaps himself, before returning to his phone.

He buys vegan ice cream on the way back to the apartment that night.

Honestly? He does love Finn, in a manner that his younger self would have been mortified by. Finn's a friendly, good natured, and well-meaning class clown. Kurt had surprised himself with how quickly he'd started thinking of Finn as family. Finn is surprisingly good at family.

He is, however, the worst version of himself when he is around Rachel. And Rachel, Kurt reflects, pressing the button for their floor with rising trepidation, is the worst version of herself when she is with Finn. And so the concept, just the concept of Rachel calling it off with the endlessly pleasant Brody to continue fixating of Finn is enough to make Kurt feel indescribably glum.

Never, in the whole history of break ups, has separate ways turned out so well, and now Rachel is wondering about whether she is with the right person, like her and Finn are an elastic band, no matter how far you stretch them, their return to each other is depressingly inevitable.

It's been nearly two and a half years since Finn had caught Rachel and Brody doing whatever it was on the floor (Rachel maintains that it was just some light 'canoodling', however much Finn reacted down the phone at him. Kurt had washed the floor the day afterwards, just in case.)

He remembers that date quite specifically, because Rachel was not understated in her response, cycling through regretful, to mournful, to outraged at Finn's over reaction, to drunk, often in the space of half an hour. And Kurt had been feeling similar, at the time, so they'd made quite a pair.

But Rachel had managed to pull herself together after a particularly long girl's weekend with Santana and Quinn, and had emerged the other side, unscathed.

(Kurt remembers how Quinn had turned up with an overnight bag and a determined expression, like all the pent-up inner bitch which she'd kept so well under-wraps recently was finally about to be unleashed for a good cause. That Finn was in her sights and she was not going to leave their apartment until Rachel had washed her hands of him.)

Brody and Rachel became a 'thing' shortly afterwards.

Kurt sleeping with a pillow over his head became a thing shortly after that.

He finds Rachel wrapped in a blanket, apparently half-way through what looks like a Band of Brothers marathon, to Kurt's mounting horror.

'Rachel…have you lost your mind?'

Rachel snivels once, and reaches a hand out to grasp in his direction without removing her gaze from the screen.

'Kurt! They keep dying so heroically…'

Kurt blinks at her for several moments before abruptly reaching down and yanking the relevant plug from the wall. The TV whines in protest as it dies.

'Rachel, honey. Eat some icecream and think about baby animals, I'm going to change, and then we're having this out.'

They're on to garlic bread by the time Kurt is bold enough to approach the crux of the matter.

'Please believe me Rachel, you are not going to forgive yourself if you ditch Brody because of some delusion of a 'perfect' relationship. They do not exist.'

Rachel glances at him, and then stares furiously at the empty wine bottle, as if it too is trying to betray her.

'I am not delusional Kurt, I'm just very aware that the Brody is not the love of my life.'

Kurt throws his hands up in the air with such violence he nearly throws himself off the bar stool he's perched upon.

'You've been with him over two years and the sex is still excellent, from what I'm forced to listen to! Two years without a blip. How can you possibly be considering throwing it away?'

'Because I'm fairly sure relationships are supposed to be more than nice! That's what I'm supposed to settle for, is it? Nice? I don't understand why you are all so… Why aren't I allowed to want a big, epic romance, with disasters and mistakes and attempts at re-writing history and forgiveness and things that people actually tell stories about? Why am I stuck with nice?'

She looks like she's on the verge of tears, but Kurt's close to an aneurysm induced by second hand stupidity, so whatever.

'We do not live in fairy tales, Rachel.'

Rachel reaches for her glass, and grips the stem hard, clearly fighting for some kind of control. She takes a juddering breath, and then mumbles to herself, 'No, so clearly I'm expected to live in beige.'

She's being such an adamant little fool that Kurt can't help but sigh a little, and reach for her hand across their table, in order to try and take the sting out of his next announcement.

'Rachel, seriously… seeing as I am family to the boy, if you ditch Brody in order to try it again with Finn I will not stand in your way. But you should know that if Santana and Quinn get wind of this you will probably be the victim of a very abrupt body snatching, and you'll no doubt wake up in some dark corner of Europe with all your papers destroyed, to endure a life of responding to whatever fake name Santana will have dreamt up for you. Probably Yappity von Moron, or something.'

Rachel stares at him for the longest moment with an unreadable expression on her face, which gives Kurt the opportunity to warm to the theme.

'And the three of you will live as sisters in a dilapidated old cottage, living off the land and Santana's mafia connections, and Quinn will be the most terrifying milkmaid known to man, and you will have to learn how to make chutney and jam from all of the fruit harvested from your orchard. And though that lifestyle would be charming for a while, eventually it will begin to grate.'

Rachel holds up a hand, clearly convinced by his tale.

'Why do you think I'd try and get back with Finn?'

Kurt tries valiantly to switch mental gear smoothly.

'Because… nobody talks about re-writing history and forgiveness unless they have someone in mind? Unless you are talking about Jesse?'

Rachel looks momentarily outraged.

'What? No, you can't possibly...' Rachel splutters for a moment, and then rests a hand on her chest. 'This is about no one, Kurt, except me and Brody. Certainly not Finn. It's…I'm not uneasy with Brody because I'm thinking of someone else. I'm uneasy because I am.'

Yeaah, he's not really buying that, despite the excellent delivery. Rachel's a better actor, these days, but ad-libbing clearly isn't her thing.

'Oh, okay, so you're considering breaking it off with Brody because of an abstract, imaginary relationship with someone you haven't meant yet? You'll understand if I find that slightly challenging to believe.'

Rachel looks away from him, and Kurt can tell she's biting the inside of her cheek slightly.

'Finn and I were horrendous together. You must think me completely stupid if you think I'd go back.'

And, well, that was slightly more convincing, but this still isn't adding up. However before he can interrogate further, Rachel's phone lights up by her elbow, and she reaches for it, clearly relieved for the distraction.

'It's, ummm, Brody is coming over, and plans on picking up Thai food. Do we want anything?'

Kurt looks down at the remains of the impromptu picnic of snack food they've already eaten.

'Please let him know I've already dined on garlic bread, cheese, crisps, two éclairs and some ice cream. But if he wants to bring over some pad thai I'll probably be able to force it down.'

Rachel is frowning hard at her screen, and after a moment Kurt rolls his eyes and taps her shin under the table.

'Please don't ditch Brody for Mr Hypothetical right now, honey. He's offering to buy us food.'

Rachel blinks at him for a second, before smiling once and slipping off her stool.

'I'll call him. Can you clear some of this up please, so he doesn't think we've been attacked by ravenous hordes.'

As Kurt is organizing some of the mess, two minutes later, he hears Rachel laugh big on the phone, and grins to himself.

Honestly, such a fuss over nothing.