Rachel had grown up terribly spoiled.

She had not one, but two doting fathers who gave in to her every whim with very little arguments.

If she had been one of those children who had wanted a pony, she would have received a pony along with riding lessons, the best riding instructor available, and the best safety gear money could buy, in order to not permanently injure herself and make her unable to dance.

She had merely flirted with the idea of taking care of herself while in school –careful not to use the provided credit card too frivolously (and really, since she did not see the bill, she had no clue how much she was spending), getting a job at The Spotlight Diner with Santana and Kurt; a job she did not take seriously at all, insisting on paying her share of a rent with a check from her bank account, (and ignoring the fact that her Papa transferred the money into her account each month), and doing her part to keep their utility bills low.

This pretend independence kept up until she graduated from NYADA, and her darling parents informed her that she was amazing, but it was time she stood on her own two feet.

She had accepted the challenge with aplomb, another item in the long list of things that made Rachel a strong woman.

Reality had hit her hard the first time she'd received her credit card bill; it was nearly thirty-two hundred dollars –much more than Rachel made in a month, too busy going on auditions to take shifts at work. She ate out, she took cabs everywhere, she had to get the perfect audition clothing, she had to maintain her hair and makeup –it added up.

That, combined with the fact that the end of year NYADA rankings had come out, and despite her absolute best, (and her amazing freshman year) Rachel had been ranked 5th out of 18 for her program, and 13th out of 112 for her graduation year.

Kurt had beaten her, coming in at 4th and 11th.

A fact that he had been rather smug about.

She had been late on her share of the rent as well –and Santana had been even bitchy about that than normal (of course, by now, Santana paid rent. She had her own 'room' in-between Kurt's and Rachel's, making their room's a little smaller, but they had been plenty roomy before so it wasn't a hardship.)

In full blown sobbing mode, she'd called her parents.

They'd transferred enough money to her to pay her credit card bill, and her share of the rent, but sternly informed her that it was a onetime event, and only because of how upset she was by her end of the year ranking.

They'd once more assured her she was amazing, and that had been that.

Rachel was on her own.

She'd picked up shifts at work –and after doing some very quick math, had picked up another job when it became clear that her current hours were just not going to cut it. She stopped taking taxis. She reduced her eating out to a few times a month instead of a few times a day.

And it was enough for her to scrap by, fully confident that she would be a Broadway star soon enough and everything would work out in the end.

And now, a year after graduating, Rachel had a few bit parts here and there, and had managed to get the starring role in an off off off Broadway production –a production that never actually ended up being produced, just a handful of rehearsals that profoundly upset Rachel with the time wasted.

Rachel shuffled her messenger bag to her other shoulder, and tiredly walked up the steps to the apartment. She wanted nothing more than to take a long bath, practice her high notes, and then a solid ten hours of sleep.

Instead, she had just enough time for a quick shower, gobbling down a snack and coffee, then heading out for her second job.

This was not what she thought her life would be like at age twenty two.

She'd gone from a big fish in a small pond to a small fish in a big pond at NYADA, and was still struggling to make it on Broadway after graduation.

No one was home, and Rachel was grateful. Santana was finishing up her first year of law school and an absolute bear because of preparing for finals, and if Rachel had to see how carefree and relaxed Kurt was (she swore he was still smug about their graduation placements) only working his one job as an assistant to a fashion designer he met through his Vogue connections she'd scream.

She breezed past the kitchen -avoiding looking at the photo's Kurt had stuck on there of his niece. They were interspersed with the photos of him and Blaine -they were engaged, and planning their wedding.

She was long over Finn, but it still stung a little he was married and now a father. She was happy for him, but sometimes, when she'd gotten home late enough that she'd only catch a few hours of sleep before a morning with fruitless auditions then work, she'd wonder if life wouldn't have been better if she'd stayed in Lima, with him.

Brittany and Blaine were not home either.

That was another thing –living with two couples was difficult at times. Although the decrease in rent was nice. They each paid $700 a month for their share of rent and utilities. If it was the three of them, then they would be paying well over $1000 each.

Rachel was debating with herself on if she had enough time to blow dry her hair or not, when Santana barged into the bathroom.

"Did you get Puck's text?"

"Santana, how many times are we going to have to have this discussion? Knock!" Rachel snapped.

Santana rolled her eyes, "Rachel, I don't care about your itty bitty titties. Look, have you checked your phone? Puck sent a group text. Vegas baby! Are you going? Me and Britts are going to get our Vegas on –perfect thing to do after finals."

"I have not seen if Puck has texted me Santana; I very much doubt I will be able to attend between my jobs and auditions. Frankly, I'm surprised anyone will be able to attend with the last-minute invitation."

"It's not for a month, plenty of time to get off. Wanky."

"And how exactly will I be paying for this trip?"

Santana frowned at that, then shrugged, "Credit card?"

"Absolutely not, you know I abhor debit," Rachel clutched the towel tighter, and glared at Santana, hoping the other woman would let her finish her routine in peace, "If you recall, I called the credit card company and asked them to lower how much I am allowed."

This was Santana. While she had mellowed out considerably, she was still Santana. Rachel was not quite sure how the other woman had become her best friend, and she was definitely not all together sure it was healthy to be best friends with someone who used to bully you in high school.

Santana shrugged, "Look, Britts and I can spot you. Hell, consider it your birthday and Hanukah gift this year. And next year. And the year after that. We already looked; it'll be about $200 round trip. And Puck said he's renting a house on AirBnB, and everyone's share will be another $200 or so for that and like, basic communal breakfast and lunches."

That was not nearly as expensive as she had assumed, "I appreciate the offer Santana, but I do not even know if Puck has invited me, and-"

Santana rolled her eyes, "You're going, even if I have to stuff you into my suitcase, you'd totally fit," she leaned against the door, frowning, "Since you graduated, and your parents cut you off all you do is work and work some more. I'm worried about you. Brittany's worried about you. And when are you going to get another chance to have fun in Vegas with your friends? Blaine and Kurt are getting married, and once we move out who knows how often we're going to see them. I mean –"

"Move out?" Rachel nearly dropped her towel.

"Kurt talked to me about it last week. They want to live alone after they get married. I guess he hasn't talked to you about it yet?"

"No..no..I've been dreadfully busy, he did say that we needed to have some one on one time since it's been a while, and asked me to go to lunch with him. I had to cancel, my audition ran long…we hadn't had a chance to reschedule." She was barely making it with the rent she paid now.

"Brittany and I aren't sure we won't stick around, I mean, if they want to live alone then they should be the ones to move out right? But if we do, we want to live with you. I think Brittany wants you to live with us even after we get married, and hell, after you get married –pretty sure she's got visions of little blonde kids running around playing with little hobbits."

Rachel took a deep breath, "That's very unlikely considering I have not had time to date."

Santana ran a hand through her shaggy shoulder length hair, then shrugged, "Look, check your messages, and think about it? And try to make time for a roommate sit down. I don't really want to move, and honestly, from what Brittany said, I think Blaine would rather they find an apartment that doesn't have all these memories and junk in it."

"I do agree that it's ridiculous he thinks three people should move out because two want the apartment to themselves."

"I can see it both ways –he was the one who found this place."

"Does that matter after five years?" Rachel, after firmly making sure her towel was on tightly, started pulling her long hair back into a pony tail for work, finally accepting that Santana was in a chatty mood. "Regardless of who moves out it is going to be a nightmare to figure out what stays and what goes."

"Kurt picked out a lot of stuff, but you, then I, paid just as much as he did for it all. Yeah, that's going to be a hassle."

Rachel, after adjusting her pony tail, turned and looked at Santana, "Well, good thing we have a future lawyer on hand to figure it out."

Santana did not answer, just sighed.

"What?"

"It's just…I'm not sure I'm doing the right thing. "

"In law school?"

"Yeah. I mean, all the aptitude tests said I'd be great at it, my professors love me, and eventually I should be making bank. But…I dunno. I'm not sure I'll be happy."

"I did not think many people are truly happy with what they have to do to get by, Santana."

"Are you happy Rachel?"

Rachel paused mid applying a bit of BB cream to her face, and stared at herself in the mirror before answer, "This is not how I pictured things would be, but I wouldn't not say I am unhappy."

"But that's not you saying you're happy, either."

"I...I'm running late Santana, I will speak to you later, okay?"

And Santana, mercifully, finally let Rachel usher her out of the bathroom.

Sometimes Quinn's able to slip out of the office before someone claims her for their lunch break. As the son of the owner's fiancée, she's a popular lunch prize, second only to Brad himself. Brad, of course, worked in a different department so he was much harder for her coworkers to fight over.

She likes people watching as she nibbles on a sandwich she only ever eats half of at a small park a few blocks from their office.

She sits and she watches and imagines the lives of the people passing by, working herself into a funk that by the time she has to go back, she's down spirited for the rest of the day.

And never understood why, either, because she always imagined the people she watched lived happy, if boring lives. So perhaps it's good she's only able to slip out of the office by herself occasionally.

"Quinn?" Brad pulled her out of her thoughts, and she looked at him.

"Yes?"

"Quinn's just thinking about our last client, and how amazing she did with him," Luke shots her a winning smile that didn't reach his eyes. He was in the same position she was, and someone trying to curry what little favor she had to give, had told her that he complained about her a lot -how she only got the job because of who she was getting married too, while he had to work for it.

She didn't think that was true; she'd worked hard to graduate from Yale with a business degree, a creative writing minor and a 4.0 while juggling internships and a relevant part time job.

Luke had went to a state school and had zero experience when he'd started.

"I'm just distracted thinking about the summer," Quinn smiled, and tried not to look at Brad's plate, where an expensive steak sat cooked well done and covered in ketchup. Brad's fork scraped against the plate as he sawed against the grain.

"We're summering in the Hamptons," Brad told Luke, before putting a mangled bite of steak into his mouth neatly.

Luke's smile got tight, "You'll both be missed around the office," he replied too brightly. The 'it must be nice for daddy to let you take the entire summer off, paid' was implied, and Quinn felt herself flush.

"I will be coming in two days a week still, so not quite the whole summer."

"Oh, what about you Quinn?"

"No...I'll just be with Bunny the entire summer." Spending so much time with her future mother in law was going to be a delicate balancing act and she was not looking forward to it.

The trio falls silent, and Quinn picks at her food as eventually conversation resumes between the two men.

Her phone rings, and she flips it up from where it sat facedown on the table. Puck. Since she hasn't spoken to Puck in over two years, she can only assume it's an emergency. Her stomach dropped as she wondered if something had happened to Beth or Shelby.

"I need to take this, please excuse me," she slipped away. She hadn't told Brad about Beth, didn't plan on doing it until well after they were married.

"Puck? Is everything okay?"

"Quinn? You're coming to Vegas."

"Is that a question or a statement?" She asked dryly.

"Both? Look, it's going to be like a mini-reunion this summer, and -" she tuned out Puck as he talked, watching the strangers pass by the front of the restaurant. A woman -icy blonde, walking with a comfortable purpose walks by, and Quinn allows herself to stare until the woman is out of view.

That woman reminded Quinn of who she was. Quinn Fabray.

She felt like Lucy more and more as she grew up. Lucy will marry the boss's son, take the entire summer off of work to trail after her future mother in law as the woman socializes with other rich women, then come back to work like she hadn't been gone for three months. Lucy had put up a token protest that her future husband had easily ignored. Lucy ignored her own feelings and needs and failed at everything she wanted.

She wasn't Lucy. Hadn't been Lucy for a while. It was time to remind herself -and Brad, of that.

"When, Puck? I'll be there," the words slipped out quickly before she could talk herself out of agreeing. Quinn Fabray wanted the perfect life, and she had it. And now Quinn wanted to see some old friends and check out Vegas, so she would. Brad would get over it especially if she promised to get a lap dance at a strip club and send him a picture or five, and Bunny -well, there was no pleasing that woman anyway.

What's the worse that could happen?

A/N: I do really like to play around with common tropes, especially the ones found in these type of stories, so expect that and other bumps in the road. Slow burn is going to be slow because they really need to earn their happy ending, and to do that they have to work on themselves and their relationship -romantically and otherwise. I hope you enjoy this story as much as I do! Please do be sure to check out my other work!

If you're so inclined, please review and tell me what you think. :)