"The cocoa's almost ready," he called back as he stirred the milk in the saucepan. The cookies were already arranged on the one suitable serving tray they owned, with space left for two mugs.

"Forget the cocoa, you're going to miss it!"

"I can hear it from here, it's not starting yet," he pointed out. "How big do you think our apartment is? We've only been here two years..."

"Okay, but if I have to hear you complain about missing even one minute, I'm reminding you of this moment," Rachel replied. Kurt rolled his eyes to himself with a smile, because he had no doubt she would remind him regardless, but he wasn't about to miss any of it.

Even though it had only been on a week, The Judy Garland Show on CBS was already mandatory Sunday night viewing. She was just so good - her costumes, her presence, her ease with the guests, and her voice... It may have been decades since her heyday, but her talent hadn't diminished even in the slightest. She still had such a powerful belt, and even if the show tended to focus on upbeat numbers - or at least it did so far - it was obvious she was still the same Judy Garland he'd been adoring for as long as he could remember.

"Who's on tonight?" Kurt asked as he carried the serving tray into the living room just in time to see the title card. He smirked a little at Rachel for his timing, but she was already too enthralled by the show to tear her eyes from the screen.

"I don't know yet," she replied, reaching blindly to pick up a cookie.

"I bet it's Gene Kelly," he stated as he curled up on the couch with his mug.

"Why do you say that?"

"Well, it was Donald O'Connor last week," he pointed out. "And he was flawless. I bet she's working her way through the cast of Singing in the Rain." He could feel her skeptical look in his direction, but he kept watching the screen. He really had been flawless, even when things went wrong. Even though the tribute to old Vaudville numbers had come off a little odd, it hadn't felt stiff like sometimes these shows did - especially when they were new. Maybe Kurt could chalk that up to the jackets they had worn, which had reminded him of his old school uniform in a fondly nostalgic way, but Kurt was pretty sure it had more to do with the way Judy handled it. It all felt like something she was doing in her living room during a party with friends, like the two of them had gotten up in front of a bunch of quasi-former stars and decided to put on a show off the cuff.

Now that was a dinner party he would gladly attend. He wondered if that was how this show had been pitched: an old friend who had someone producing television, attending a dinner where Judy had no choice but to jump up and start singing along because someone just happened to play piano...

Maybe it was just wishful thinking on his part. He knew it probably was more conventionally conceived, but he liked the idea of that being what her dinners were like. And one day he would throw that kind of fete himself - he and Rachel would jump up and start singing because they couldn't help themselves, and their friends would all join in...

"You just want to stare at Gene Kelly," she accused as Judy made her entrance. She was wearing the same top as the week before, white with some sort of glittering contrast stripes and what looked like a faux white buttonfront shirt underneath, and he had to wonder if the wardrobe people couldn’t do a better job at providing her with more than one outfit in addition to the costumes. “Not that I can blame you for wanting to watch him – he is very talented. I’ve loved his movies since I was little, too, but it’s television.”

“And?”

“And agents get picky about who they let do television,” she stated with her ‘this is my business, not yours’ voice. “Established stars on variety shows-“

“Happen all the time, including as hosts,” he pointed out.

“Maybe but-…oh…no,” Rachel groaned as Judy introduced her first guest in song. The young woman who stepped out to join her was easily recognizable, from her trademark blunt bob-cut, to her, frankly, excessive eye makeup, to her nose.

Barbra Streisand hadn’t reached Ms. Garland’s level of fame yet, but she was well on her way to becoming a household name. Kurt couldn’t even count how many specials and variety hours she’d been on since her album had come out in February.

“She’s everywhere,” Rachel lamented. “Can I have just one show – just one hour a week – where I don’t have to feel compared to her? Where I can enjoy the best that the entertainment industry has to offer without being reminded of exactly what they saw in her but not in me?”

“It’s a show that highlights the best of music and performance,” Kurt pointed out dryly, glancing at her sideways. “Of course she’s on it.” She was still not used to it, clearly – she didn’t know how to avoid the cameras catching nothing but the side of her haircut with her nose just barely peeking out beyond the heavy locks. “She’s fantastic.”

“She’s not that good,” Rachel tried to argue, but before he could even say anything she had to correct herself. “Okay, she is, but that doesn’t mean she should get to be on every show.”

Kurt smiled faintly to himself, glad that Rachel’s ever-asserted need for artistic honesty – or, at least, honesty about artistry – won out even over her own grudges. “You just wish it were you. To be honest, so do I – You would get to bring your wardrobe master with you, and then I’d get to meet the incomparable talent that is Judy Garland,” he grinned. The smile she offered in return was a little more subdued, but it was genuine.

Well if I really am your guest
I have a small request.
Anything you want to do.
Anything?
Anything.
Can I replace you?

Kurt couldn’t help but scoff at that. “She’s fantastic but she’s not that fantastic,” he stated, rolling his eyes.

“Now who’s jealous?” Rachel teased.

“Of what? Jealous on Judy’s behalf?” he pointed out, settling in and grabbing a cookie as the Smothers Brothers began their introductory schtick. “No one will replace her.”

“No one?” Rachel asked.

He considered a moment, then conceded, “Well, maybe you.”

“Not at this rate,” she mumbled petulantly, rolling her eyes and drawing her knees up as she kept watching.

“Rachel…you took a little longer to find your confidence, that’s all,” he stated gently. “You’re certainly as talented as Barbra Streisand is – and you have all the same qualities that everyone loves about her. She’s the same age we are, and a year and a half ago she was singing in a nightclub with no one coming to see her. Now she has a hit record and is being literally touched by Judy Garland. A lot can change in a year. Think of her like…well, like a trail-blazer. The country’s ready for girls with noses and big voices to belt out songs on every television show – she helped make it easier. That’s all. Like all those girl groups coming out of Motown now that ‘Heat Wave’ was such a hit.” She smiled faintly, and he added, “You’ll be as big as she is one day. You’re amazing.”

“You really believe that?” she asked, looking him in the eye, and he reached over to squeeze her hand.

“Of course I do.”

She beamed, moving over a little closer as she picked up her cocoa and began to sip it. “Someone’s promotion certainly agrees with him,” she commented, and now it was his turn to preen. It wasn’t much – yet – but it was something. Don had been true to his word: the first junior designer position that had opened up had been offered to him, with what he learned later were strong recommendations from Don as well as from some of the other higher-level people he’d done tiny makeshift assignments for. While his expertise still wasn’t really in gowns – his knowledge of menswear and jackets in particular was much deeper – he had a feeling he would be learning very quickly. From what he’d been able to gather, his department was among the more highly-regarded specialties. It made sense, he supposed, given that the hallmark of almost any house was its couture and eveningwear. Either way, it was definitely a step up from cutting tulle in the basement.

A lot could change in a year.

Forget your troubles
Happy days
C’mon get happy
Are here again
You better chase all your cares away
The skies above are clear again
Shout hallelujah
So let’s sing a song
C’mon get happy
Of cheer again
Get ready for the judgment day
Happy days are here again

Sometimes Kurt had a hard time believing how much time had passed; other times, how little. Ohio felt like a lifetime away, like a world he’d imagined a very long time ago but hadn’t thought of in awhile. Friday night dinners with his dad and Carole and Finn, and school, and being hassled at the Diner for walking around with Mercedes… what he remembered most from back then was planning all of the things he would do once he got to New York – what he would have, who he could be here…and none of it was what he’d dreamed.

There were no soirees with Blaine and all of their friends, followed by quiet evenings of records and crossword puzzles. He couldn’t see his designs on men walking down Fifth Avenue on his way to watch Rachel in her favourably-reviewed Broadway show. Everything he had sworn he would have as soon as he could get out of his backwards cowtown had gone by the wayside…but for the first time in a long time, that didn’t bother him. Because there also weren’t cold nights sitting on a bench in Columbus Circle waiting for a man in a green scarf to pass by anymore, and his hands didn’t ache from cutting stubborn, rough underfabrics all day, and he didn’t feel like there was an enormous wall surrounding him and cutting him off from every other person he saw. And the idea that that had all changed in less than a year was mind-blowing.

The sun is shining
All together
C’mon get happy
Shout it now
The lord is waiting to take your hand
There’s no one who can doubt it now
Shout halleluah
So let’s tell the world
And just get happy
About it now
We’re goin’ to the promised land.
Happy days are here again

Nothing was quite what they had expected. But maybe that wasn’t inherently a bad thing. Maybe that wasn’t a sign in and of itself that they were doing something wrong, that something was wrong with either of them. Maybe there was nothing at all wrong with either of their talent; it was just their dreams that needed adjustment.

Not the goal. Not the end result they were seeking. Just details.

Rachel might not win her first Tony by 25. And he wouldn’t be running a major house by the time he was 27 like so many of his idols had. But that was okay; none of that meant they were failures. If he didn’t live up to the promise of Yves Saint-Laurent – who had lived in an entirely different era, it was worth noting…If he didn’t make it by 27, his dreams would still be there when he was 28, and 30, and 40. There was nothing about ambition that had an expiration date.

So what if he’d imagined that by the time he was in New York for two years, he would have his own place and throw amazing parties with a handsome and talented lover sharing his life? So what if he had assumed that everything in this city would be more fashionable than reality held? There was nothing wrong with any of those dreams, but they were just that: dreams. Idealized versions of what he wanted. They didn’t take reality into account – not just the way the police would hassle people in New York as much as in Ohio, but basic facts like the cost of rent and food and how industries worked - really worked. They didn’t include other people wanting the same jobs, or bosses, or nights when he was too tired to cook so they ordered Chinese food instead.

They left out good things, too. His dreams had never included Don and John, with their adorable fondness for one another, their relationship that – while admittedly not ideal inasmuch as it had to remain a secret from so many people - was, at its best, so breathtakingly beautiful and…aspirational. And if he had never thought of the two of them before meeting them, then certainly his dreams had never included the person who meant more to him than almost anyone else in the world.

No; his dreams had never thought to conjure up a best friend like himself. He certainly would never have imagined a boy who shared his bed without ever sharing a kiss, but now he didn’t want to imagine a life without Ricky in it, somehow, some way.

We’re headin’ cross a river, soon your cares will all be gone
They’ll be no more from now on
From now on…

There were still things he wanted here, still things he yearned for, but nothing he needed. He still had plenty to fight for, to seek out, to work toward, but the aching, desperate loneliness and despair that had settled in his chest for so much of his first year and a half in Manhattan had been replaced by something much more functional that let everything feel much more possible.

He could achieve things. He would achieve things, and so would Rachel. And so would Ricky, and Mercedes, and even if those things didn’t happen in a way that any of them would have envisioned, that wouldn’t make them any less sweet.

Forget your troubles
Happy days
And just get happy
Are here again
You better chase all your blues away
The skies above are clear again
Shout hallelujah
So let’s sing a song
And just get happy
Of cheer again

For the first time in a long time – maybe for the first time since moving to this city they’d dreamed of, to the city that had crushed them and beaten them down or nearly two years straight, to the city they’d wondered why they had ever come to more times than they cared to count…for the first time in what felt like ages, Kurt had no doubt in his mind:

They would do great things, the four of them. They were where they were supposed to be. And they would be stars.

One day.

Happy times
Happy times
Happy nights
Happy nights
Happy days are here again