Kurt barely stifled a yawn as he emerged from the station. Three men passed him, trotting down the stairs in crisp business suits and pressed shirts and ties - the old guard ready and eager to start another day because they had concluded the old day at 10:00 the night before. There werent nearly as many of them now as there had been when Kurt had first arrived in the city; back then the streets and trains had been packed at 8:30 as hoards of clean-shaven, short-haired men in identical suits scurried from their houses in the suburbs to their Madison Avenue offices, determined to be the first one in and the last one out - that showed ambition. Almost no one wore ties these days...at least, almost no one over 40 or men who looked it.

He shouldnt have stayed out so late, he chastised himself for at least the hundredth time. He should have at least gotten home early enough for a few hours sleep. He couldnt help it, though - Rickys dress had been the star of the show, and the walks never started on time, and Milan had ended up in a tie which meant separate walk-offs and crowd voting and people challenging the crowd voting so that always took longer. And once he was there, it always felt like the rest of the world - and its insistence on schedules - melted away. It was hard to keep his mind on work and obligations when he was watching his best friend strut down a makeshift runway with hundreds of queens cheering...or while collecting gown requests. It wasnt until he stepped out onto the sidewalk, drenched in pale morning sunlight, that he was snapped back into reality and his mind began to race again with everything he needed to do.

He had exactly enough time to get home, shower, wolf down toast that would hopefully soak up the last of the strong, cheap booze that was ubiquitous at these balls, and rush to work. The key, he had learned, was not to sit down. If he kept moving, momentum would carry him to the office where he could talk himself out of napping because there were too many people who could discover him. But if he sat down, even for a few minutes, he would have a very hard time not letting the fatigue overtake him. It was really difficult to crawl out of his nice cozy apartment to another frustrating day at the office when his bed was so close.

Kurt bounded up the stairs, face flushed from the effort, and fished his key out of his pocket. He was glad he had thought to bring it with him instead of tossing it in his sewing kit as he sometimes did. It was safer in the sewing kit back at Rickys, less of a chance that someone would take it by mistake or it would be lost forever beneath a sea of rhinestones, but that meant he had to end the night at his friends instead of going straight home...and when Ricky won, he tended to take his victory lap with whichever of his onlookers made the move first. With very few men out of gowns at these things, the competition for butch men was almost fiercer than the one for the trophies. Which wasnt to say that a few of the drag queens werent stunningly handsome out of drag or didnt like finding a man to treat right, but they never seemed to do as well at the parties; something about how two queens never seemed to work out.

(Kurt had learned the hard way that while he was one of the few men in the room wearing pants and could have had his pick of the room, it never ended well for him. A drunken attempted-fling with Ricky had taught them both the value of making sure there was a top somewhere in any sexual encounter.)

The key slipped into the lock easily, but as Kurt twisted it counterclockwise he found that the door was already unlocked. He hesitated, trying to figure out a reason why that would be. Rachel was always good about locking up before she went to sleep, and at this time of morning she was never awake and about yet - she didnt have to be at the theatre until mid-afternoon, so there was no reason for her to be. He cautiously pushed it open, staying in the hall and ready to make a getaway if the open door revealed some sort of early-morning criminals. Instead, what he saw through the vestibule was an enormous puff of black hair above a vibrant pink dashiki print shirt.

"Mercedes!" His brain raced, trying to figure out if hed gotten the date wrong - or if more time had passed than hed thought-

She turned on the chair to face him; her grin was as wide as ever, radiant - touring agreed with her. "I was wondering when you might get home! Ive been here for hours. You stay out later than I do," she teased.

They might not have been as close as they had been as children, in part because they had spent so much of the past year in different parts of the country, and he hadnt realized until precisely that moment just how much he had missed her. "Its good to see you," he replied sincerely. "I wasnt expecting you for-"

"At least a couple months," she confirmed.

"Right. Last time you called youd said you were going right from the last tour onto the Summer Divas one."

"I was."

"Did something happen?" he asked. She was smiling too much for it to be something bad, at least he hoped, but Mercedes had long had a way of looking on the bright side of setbacks that meant maybe she was smiling about...he didnt know, being able to be home all summer or seeing each other because it had been way too long.

"Cant I just come see my oldest friend?" she asked.

"You can, but you wouldnt if you were still on the tour you were supposed to-...you didnt get into a fight with someone else and have to leave, did you?" he asked. That sort of thing wouldnt have surprised him in the least - not because Mercedes was hard to get along with, but because any time you put a dozen self-proclaimed divas on a tour bus things werent going to end well. And from the stories she had told him, he would have wanted to knock at least a couple of the girls heads together, so he could imagine how after months together it could explode.

She gave him a deadpan look. "Who do I look like? Rachel?" she asked, and Kurt almost felt bad laughing at that. He shouldnt encourage the two of them sniping at each other...though he doubted it would end any time soon regardless of his participation. And Mercedes did kind of have a point; Rachel had managed to have run-ins and personality conflicts with more than her share of people in the business.

"Then what happened?" he asked. "Because your sales have been steadily climbing so theres no reason they should-"

"Give me a second album deal and a series of shows in LA instead of shoving me on a bus with a dozen other performers each doing one hit a night?"

Kurt stopped mid-sentence, trying to process what she had said. "Really?" he asked, but her grin said it all. "You- oh my god, Mercedes, thats fantastic! How? I-...you have to tell me what they said."

From the beaming expression, Mercedes was either still in love with the story of her good fortune or, more likely, she had been waiting all night for Kurts reaction. "Mr. Tanger calls me into his office-"

"The one in the back of his own private bus?" Kurt asked, because while he always listened to her tales from the tour, sometimes it was hard to keep the cast of thousands straight since hed never met any of them.

"Exactly. Like the bus isnt all his office anyway. It could be worse - some tour managers fly to the destinations while everyone else drives," she pointed out. "Anyway. He calls me into his office and says he just got a call from the label. He didnt look happy at all, so I start worrying theyre dropping me or something, they want some new cute thing to take my place." She rolled her eyes and waved her hand dismissively - of course she knew anyone who would do such a thing was clearly in the wrong, but she had learned the hard way that people did that too often anyway. She had spent too much time in the music industry to be optimistic about people and their motives. "But it turns out hes pissed because he has to let me go...because the label is sending me to Los Angeles to work with their best up-and-coming producer on a new album."

"That means they have confidence in it," Kurt pointed out as the thought occurred to him.

"Of course it does - you dont keep up as well when youre out all night," she teased, her joy too ebullient to let her words fall harshly. "And while Im out there recording, theyve set up performances including a series of solo shows at little bars and lounges."

"Just you?" Kurt clarified.

"Just me," she confirmed, beaming.

"...They want to give you your own identity and songs beyond divas of disco," Kurt concluded, and Mercedes nodded, unable to stop smiling. Kurt understood why - his own face and chest ached from sheer joy for her. She had worked so hard for so long - he didnt think he could find a single person who had paid as many dues as she had. From leaving the Melodics - which in retrospect he couldnt believe shed had the strength of will and vision to do, theyd been so young back then - to Aretha breaking first and bigger, to trying for years to attract record label attention to her performances only to have them pick someone younger or lighter or a man instead...her song on the radio had felt like the biggest thing that could have happened, the culmination of decades of work.

But what was better than hearing her hit song on the radio? Hearing her second hit song on the radio. Or her third. Or her tenth.

"Mercedes, thats...amazing. No one deserves it more than you."

"Thanks, Kurt," she replied quietly, sincerity shining through her beaming grin. "You were the first person I wanted to tell - I knew youd see why this is so great."

"You havent told your parents yet?"

"No, I did. They were supposed to come to the tour when it stopped in Columbus, so I had to let them know I wouldnt be on it. They spent most of the call lecturing me about a stable income even after pointing out everyone at church is listening to my song." She rolled her eyes, but Kurt knew that was exactly the way she had expected the call to go. It was what he would have expected too; explaining their careers to people back home was always hard. They were all so practical there, so focused on the day-to-day, and while he could respect wanting to be sure bills were covered instead of just blindly chasing a dream, a part of him wished he could shutter that part of his mind sometimes so he could just enjoy the fantasy of starting his own line like Don had. His own father barely understood what he did now, let alone how a person could leave all that behind and do something more creative without any guarantee of future income. Mercedes parents had never been able to understand what she was doing with music, why she couldnt have finished college...and while skepticism might have been warranted when they were 20, Kurt liked to think that the point at which a persons song played on heavy rotation was the point at which their dream had been validated.

"Im sorry."

"Dont be, theyre happy in their way," she replied easily. "But I havent told you the best part yet."

"Theres something better?"

"For you there is," she smirked, and Kurt blinked as he tried to figure out what that might be.

"Are you working with someone amazing?"

"A stylist," she replied, and Kurt was torn. He had a love-hate relationship with so many of the designers who did work in the entertainment business: he loved a lot of their work and hated that none of them knew who he was.

"Bob Mackie?" he asked. The man did do incredible things, and his designs were inventive and tongue-in-cheek, but just like Mercedes sometimes wondered why Aretha had gotten her start instead, just as Rachel both loved and despised Barbra Streisand, Kurt could never understand why the man had had the good fortune to become so well-known and respected while Kurt was stuck as a mid-level designer for a line he didnt particularly love, with a boss who hated everything he tried to design. More than once a gown he had designed for one of his "girls" had shown up in similar and equally-outrageous form on a movie set...different enough that he didnt assume espionage, but similar enough that he could never understand why his own career never jump-started the way he thought it should.

"Better," she replied.

Kurt didnt know that there was anyone better for show garments, but he asked, "Dont tell me they wrangled Halston into it...though that would explain why youre back in New York..."

"Nope."

"Kenzo?" She shook her head. "The woman who-"

"You."

The word didnt sink in at first, just sort of hung there in the air between them as Mercedes smile grew wider, then confused, wondering why Kurt wasnt reacting or saying something, but Kurt didnt know what to say. "What do you mean?" he managed after a moment.

"I mean theyre giving me a budget to hire someone to make all my clothes for appearances - especially stage-wear. And to go with me to make sure I wear it right."

"...How could you wear it wrong?" Kurt asked.

"Thats just what I said to get them to pay your way and get an extra hotel room."

"A hotel room- you mean in LA?"
"Youre slow when youve been out all night," she accused. "Of course in LA - why would I get you a hotel somewhere else?"
Hed never thought of being anywhere else; for as long as he could remember, he had wanted to live exactly where he was right now - well, at least in this city. He probably hadnt picked a neighbourhood when he was six. For a few months a decade or so ago hed dreamed of Paris, then of London when its fashion exploded all over the world in 65, but even those were fleeting desires to be in a place where the action was, where creativity flooded the fashion world, where he could reach his full potential.
California had never been the dream. How could it be? What could the state possibly have to offer that New York didnt?
He had obligations here, too, people - what would Ricky do without him? And the others...if he couldnt make their gowns, then someone else would gouge them for poorly-made knockoffs. And his job...

"I...Mercedes, thank you, but I-"
"Dont even tell me you cant." He didnt know what to say, and Mercedes took advantage of the momentary silence. "There is no one Id rather have doing all this with me. And if it goes well, just think - this could be your big break. How many years have you sat here scowling at magazines and wondering why you cant be that famous?" He had to admit she might have a point there, but he guessed he probably didnt have to actually admit it aloud - if anyone could read his tilted head and raised eyebrows, it was his oldest friend. "If theres anything Ive learned in this business, its that the difference between people who make it and who dont isnt anything to do with talent. Its about being in the right place at the right time and meeting people who can help you get where you should be."

"About finding the right person who understands how amazing you are and knows how to nurture your talent and create your image..." he mused, sitting slowly in the empty chair. Mercedes had performed at probably every club in New York for a decade before one guy - one average-looking guy at the back table in a rundown shack of a bar - had been a brand new A&R rep who was determined to impress his bosses. If he hadnt been there that night, Kurt didnt doubt that none of this would have happened for her - the radio, the first album, the tour, this new album...she would be just as talented but unknown.

"Exactly," she replied, glad he understood. "And youve got a lot better chance of recognition designing for a hot new artist than you do for an underground ball no ones meant to know about."

Kurt didnt know how to respond to that. On one hand, he knew that of course that was true. On the other, it felt like he was abandoning his friends if he left them for something bigger - like hed only helped them because he didnt have anything better to do. What if they thought-...

They wouldnt. They probably wouldnt. They knew him well enough to understand...Ricky certainly would...wouldnt he?

His head was spinning, the potent combination of life-changing news, too little sleep, and too many drinks catching up with him, and he leaned back heavily in his chair. "When would this-"

"Week, maybe ten days," Mercedes replied. "I think. It all changes pretty fast. Does that mean youre in?"

"I dont know yet," he replied honestly. He knew the answer had to be in his mind somewhere, if he could make sense of it, but wasnt sure-

"Tell you what. You get some sleep - you look like something the cat dragged in - and call me tonight. Theyre putting me up in a swanky hotel while Im in town..." She pulled a pen out of her bag and jotted down the number. "Well get dinner and catch up about everything either way. Ive missed you - and boy have I got stories from the road." He managed a smile despite his sudden overwhelming exhaustion, and she grinned back. Mercedes stood and started toward the door, then turned back and added, "Dont just say no. This is gonna be big, Kurt, and I want you there."

Head spinning, he had just enough presence of mind to call in to work and mumble to the receptionist that he wouldnt be in until after noon, then practically crawl into bed. He was asleep before his head hit the pillow.

* * * * *

Kurt awoke slowly to the sounds of Rachel trying to out-sing a Barbra Streisand album. He wished he didnt know that, that it was a pasttime he could look upon with confusion, but after so many years together it was a ritual he knew all too well. It didnt surprise him, especially considering how frustrated about the lack of career progress she had been last night.

He groaned quietly and stretched, reluctant to open his eyes to the too-bright room with the headache throbbing at the edges of his skull. He guessed it was more from lack of sleep than from the alcohol, based on the fact that Rachels overwrought rendition of "My Man" was only mildly irritating rather than piercing.

He complained now, but he had missed it while she was gone. At least, he thought he remembered tha the had missed it.

He padded out of his bedroom, tilting his head slowly from side to side to try to work the stiffness out of his neck. "Morning," he offered. He wasnt sure it was still morning - he had no idea how long hed slept, but he was pretty sure it couldnt have been that long if he was still so exhausted.

Rachel jumped and screamed in surprise. "Kurt- what are you doing here? Oh my god, you scared me!" Kurt quirked an eyebrow, too tired to do much more than that, and she placed her hand over her heart as she started breathing more normally. "Why arent you at work?"

"Late night," he replied.

"Every night is a late night," she pointed out with a disapproving scowl. He fought the urge to roll his eyes at that, as though she had any right to tell him when he should or shouldnt go out when she had spent plenty of years in her twenties out late - at dinners and cast parties and places where she could be closer to meeting people who knew people who had power. He just hadnt been able to find places to do that until after she had declared she was tired of bars and nightclubs.

"Its fine," he replied, perhaps a bit testily. "At least a quarter of the office is out on a given morning because theyre all out doing the same thing." It was true, especially among designers, though most of them wouldnt be caught dead where he spent his nights; they were all too busy chasing their latest "muses" at whatever disco they could stumble into - and sucking any attractive man who said he worked for a more prominent label up on one of the balconies.

He had gone a few times, usually because John insisted, and it had been fun - exhausting and frivolous and rawly sexual and all the things a night out was meant to be. But the next night he always found himself back at Rickys, helping the gang get ready and leading the pack through the streets of Harlem toward a darkened dance hall. He wasnt sure what it was about the competition there that left him feeling invigorated instead of tired and bored - flattered, satiated, but yearning for bragging rights that had more to do with his talent and less to do with his ass or the biceps he had worked hard to acquire. Either way, he had no doubt that his desk wasnt the only one empty this morning.

"When did you get home?"

"About 7, I think. Im surprised we didnt wake you."

"We? Is Ricky here? Or...someone else?" she asked with a wink, and this time Kurt did roll his eyes.

"No - Mercedes."

"I thought she wasnt due back for awhile."

"She wasnt, but they offered her a second album and are sending her out to LA to work with one of their up-and-coming producers and do some showcases." Even as tired as he was, he couldnt help but grin as he relayed the news.

It was odd; Rachel was a really great actress - Kurt had seen her in enough minor productions to know that. She had always been good. But when the news was personal, it always took her a moment to put on the face she knew she was meant to wear. Her face fell, eyes wide and sad as though asking what she had done wrong to not be afforded such an opportunity, then her mouth tightened which Kurt knew was a sign of contempt - because not only had Rachel not gotten what she thought she deserved, but Mercedes had, and he knew his friend couldnt help but ask "why did she get something so great?"

She never meant it to be cruel. Kurt knew that deep down Rachel never intended to sound like she was rooting for Mercedes to fail. It was just that Rachel considered herself the hardest-working person she knew, and the idea that someone she perceived as less-dedicated triumphed while her own dreams went by the wayside...

He didnt agree - he couldnt. He had seen the ways Mercedes had worked, had grown as a person and an artist, had learned to develop a thicker skin and not take things personally. She had sung in every tiny venue, the equivalent of every thankless chorus part Rachel had taken over the years. She deserved every bit of this - just as much as Rachel deserved a leading, Tony-worthy role. Mercedes had just gotten hers first, that was all.

But he didnt dare say that.

After a few awkward seconds, her grin stretched too wide on her face, eyes too artificially-lit, and she replied in a high voice, "How great for her. Thats fantastic."

Kurt hesitated to mention anything else about the deal, but he had to; he needed to be able to talk to someone, someone who had known him for almost as long as New York had been his dream. Someone who was single-mindedly devoted to her own success enough that she could understand the pull between the place he had always wanted to live, his home, and the opportunity of a lifetime. If anyone could help him sort out how the two interplayed - or butted against each other - she would be the one. "She wants me to go with her."

Rachels expression faltered again before her eyebrows knitted together, like a car jerking out of one gear but pausing before shifting into another. "Why?"

"The label is letting her hire someone for her wardrobe, and she wants me."

"So youd just...go to LA?"

The idea still sounded so strange, so completely foreign, but he couldnt help but envision himself and his oldest friend riding in a convertible along the coast, sun beaming down on them as they passed movie stars homes...Hed never been west of Indiana before, and the thought of living out his own Frankie and Annette movie did sound fun. "Yes," he replied.

"For how long?"

"I have no idea. As long as they want to keep her out there, I guess, unless she takes me on her next tour with her. Or I get another job offer out there." He would have access to so many people out there, so many famous women with impeccable style who could make him the newest designer-to-watch. Movie stars were how designers became known to the world - and then the world wanted to buy their clothing for themselves.

"So you were just going to leave me to...do what? You know I cant afford the apartment on my own. I would have to sublet your room, and I know you dont want a stranger poking around in there - and besides, he could be a serial killer for all I know. And then I have to kick him out when you come home."

Kurts eyebrows lowered. Was she serious? He had a fantastic opportunity and she was talking about serial killers sleeping in his bed? "Im pretty sure thats not going to happen," he replied slowly, almost testing the waters to see how seriously she was taking herself. Sometimes she just threw out the first thing that popped into her head as a potential argument, no matter how non-viable...but he could tell from her expression that she actually meant that. Kurt sighed and rolled his eyes as he padded to the counter to make himself the strongest black coffee he could. "There are millions of people in this city and only a few of them are serial killers," he replied. "Odds are youll be fine."

"But what if he-"

"You could always rent to a woman if it worries you that much," he pointed out.

"Never," she replied. "What if she were better than me and overheard me talking about an audition?"

"Okay, youre being a little ridiculous."

"And youre being more than a little inconsiderate," she shot back. "You didnt even think about me. Were best friends and have been roommates practically forever. We came out here together, Kurt - you and me against the city -and you didnt even hesitate before saying youd go with her."

He turned slowly to face her. Nevermind that he hadnt said yes to Mercedes yet; could she really be saying what he thought she was saying? Did binding their fates together back in high school when they were sixteen lash them together for life? And, if so- "You didnt exactly think about me before you moved out. Twice."

"I was getting married!"

"To guys you knew it wasnt going to work with - to guys I told you wouldnt last. You threw it in my face the entire length of the marriage, all six months of it, claiming I wasnt supportive enough, and then you came crawling back and didnt even bother to ask if you could move in again." He hadnt had any real reason not to let her, especially not the way she had seemed so alone and broken - and even if she had been willfully naive about the prospects of her nuptials, it hardly seemed right to gloat about it back then. But to feign outrage over being left alone with the rent payment every month when she had done the same to him more than once without so much as a second thought...

That wasnt what this was about, he realized queasily. She didnt know how to handle anyones success except her own. She didnt feel betrayed because of the cost of a two-bedroom apartment; she felt betrayed because he might actually get what he had wanted for his entire professional life...and because she hadnt yet.

How dare she? How dare she try to claim his success as disloyalty? How could she stand there and claim to care about him but want to deny him any chance to-

She didnt mean to, he sighed to himself. It was just Rachel.

Maybe getting away would be good for them. Maybe if Rachel didnt have him to lean on in her cesspool of career angst, she would figure out a way out of it herself - or find new friends to help her, the same way he had found Ricky way back when. Or at the very least...maybe absence would make the heart grow fonder again. Because he loved her, he really did, and she meant the world to him, but lately he spent most of his time wanting to just take her by the shoulders and shake her until reality set in.

Rather than keep fighting, he rolled his eyes and walked away.

* * * * *

Kurt couldnt help but feel nervous as he bounded the stairs. Refreshed from his shower and feeling marginally more awake, he needed to...to sort things out. Because every time he thought about moving - about actually going it sounded too crazy for words. But every time he thought about not going with Mercedes, he felt... he didnt know how to describe it, but it wasnt good.

He rapped on the door and frowned as he waited with no response. He tried again and finally heard something muffled from within. Had he made a mistake by not calling first? Usually the men didnt show up until later in the day...and while Don and John had a very - very - open-door policy when it came to people showing up, Kurt wasnt sure he needed to know quite that much about his friends. Visuals were more than enough, he certainly didnt need to add sounds to the mix.

Maybe he should go. He should get to work soon anyway, and then he could try later-

After a long moment the door finally opened and Don, wearing only boxer shorts and a bedragled expression, stood on the other side. He blinked twice, then smiled - sleepy but genuine. "Hey Kurt. Cmon in."

"Am I interrupting-"

"God no," he replied with a wave of his hand. "After you left last night I was putting away the extra fabric and found this trim - it caught the light in a new way and I was just...inspired. Finally, right? At 1 in the morning. I got to sleep...probably about half an hour ago."

"Im sorry, I can come back."

"Dont be silly," Don chided, ushering him in. "I need a second set of eyes to tell me if it looks right or if Im just sleep-deprived." He shut the door behind them and led the way into the living room where a striking sunny orange dress enveloped the dress form that had been empty just twelve hours before. The chiffon cascaded from just above the waist to pool on the floor, unhemmed and unfinished but bordered by gold rope braid that elevated the dress from something casual to an easy-to-wear gown. The same-fabric belt drew in the area just above the waist and gave definition to what could easily have been a muumuu, and the sleeves... Kurt stepped over to finger the fabric gently, admiring the way it hung just so - flowy but with a purpose and shape, weighted just enough by more of the rope trim along the hems. The entire garment looked effortless - not just to wear, but to make, as though Don had just draped a length of cloth for the bottom half and two pieces above, but he knew all too well that it couldnt be further from the truth. It took a lot of work and a gentle, expert hand to make something look so simplistically perfect.

"The sleeves were impossible to match," Don admitted with a sleepy, sheepish grin. "The first one draped just right, but the second..."

"Isnt it always the way?" Kurt replied as he leaned in to inspect the stitching on the skirt. "Wow."

"Does it not look as ugly as I expected?" Don asked, moving in to see where Kurt was looking. "I couldnt even see straight by then, but I knew if I left it pinned it would never sit right in the morning."

"Looks perfectly fine to me."

"And you know what youre talking about, so thank you," Don joked. He leaned against the back of the couch to admire his work. "Now if only anyone would ever see it..." he mused, his proud smile turning wry and sad. "One day," he added, but in a tone that made clear he wasnt sure if he believed it anymore.

Kurt sat in the chair by the sewing machine feeling a little queasy and not just from the too-strong coffee hed loaded down with cream and sugar before leaving the apartment. Don was at least as good a designer as he was, probably better. If anyone deserved this opportunity...he knew Mercedes wouldnt go for it, she had her heart set on him, but maybe...he could help.

"What if I had a way people would?" he asked.

"What do you mean?"

"Mercedes came to see me this morning."

"Yeah? Hows she doing - tell her that song is in every club over here right now. I dont think theres a gay man in New York who hasnt gotten his dick sucked with her singing in the background."

Kurt barely held back a laugh. "Oh, shed love to hear that," he deadpanned. "She wants me to do her wardrobe - theyre flying her out to LA, its a big deal, but I wasnt sure-"

Don turned to stare at him, eyes wide. "You werent sure?" he repeated. "If theyre flying her out...theyve gotta be paying something or she wouldnt ask, right?"

Kurt nodded. "I dont know how much, but yes."

"Then why the hell would you not jump at the chance? Even if it doesnt pay what you make now, if you have a place to stay out there - enough to make ends meet - the exposure alone is more than worth it. What do you have here that cant wait? I mean...I couldnt drop everything and move without talking to John first. But youre young, youre unattached, you dont even like the job you have now. Whats holding you back?"

Kurt didnt know, certainly not well enough to put it into words. Because when Don put it like that, it did seem ridiculous to hesitate. "I dont know," he admitted. "LA was never my dream. New York was."

"Dreams change," Don pointed out gently. "Things make a dream impossible or impractical, or divert them, or relocate them...that doesnt have anything to do with whether or not to follow an amazing opportunity."

"But I finally like what I have." He couldnt remember a time hed been so content in his life - with Don and John, and Ricky and the girls, and a home and a job that was...well, not what he wanted, but not bad...with places he could go and men he could flirt with..."Everything here is what I dreamed of when I was little."

"So you go out there for a few months and come back to pick up where you left off...but with much better contacts in a whole different side of the industry," Don pointed out. "Whats there to lose?"

Kurt tilted his head slightly, not sure he could come up with an answer to that. Technically nothing. Still, if Rachel was this mad at him and they werent nearly as close as they had been...

Don seemed to understand the expression on his face, because he leaned in and put his hand over Kurts. "If I asked, John would tell me to go," he stated quietly, meeting his gaze. "Because hed understand how amazing an opportunity this is, and he wants me to be happy."

"Theyll get robbed by any other gown-maker," he pointed out, but it felt like a hollow justification the more often he said it.

"Theyll be fine," Don replied sincerely. "Opportunities this good dont come along often, Kurt. Youve gotta seize any chance like this you get. If anyones gonna understand that, its him."

He knew that - he did. He knew that if anyone understood doing what a person had to do, it was going to be the boy who had been on the streets for too many years, who saw dating-for-hire as a great way to pay for extra sequins and new wigs and better makeup, but-

He remembered how lonely he had been before Ricky had entered his life, how lonely Ricky had been back then even if he would never have uttered the words. What if Ricky didnt see it as an opportunity but as yet another person throwing him out of their life?

Maybe if he broke it to him face-to-face.

"Do you mind if I call-"

"Go ahead," Don replied, nodding toward the kitchen, and Kurt drew in a deep breath before he lifted the receiver and dialed.

Milan had joked once that Ricky started out the day the most masculine he would ever be and it was all downhill from there, and from the rough-sounding grumble that greeted him on the other end of the line, Kurt had to agree. "Hello to you too." Another grumble, but this one ended in "Vonny," so Kurt knew the young man was coming around. "We need to make plans, Ive gotta talk to you about something."

"The green...?" Ricky mumbled, and Kurt almost laughed. So much for masculine, if he assumed any conversation must be about a gown they had started working on but never finished about 4 separate times.

"No. Something more...yknow what? Lets say lunch in an hour down at-"

"...Whats wrong?" And with that, Ricky was awake.

"Nothings wrong."

"Mmhmm." Even across town, Kurt could practically see his quirked eyebrow of disbelief.

"We can talk about it at lunch."

"Tell me now."

Kurt hesitated, fidgeting with the phone cord and winding it around his fingertips, but he couldnt keep things from Ricky - hed never been able to. So he explained everything: the surprise visit from Mercedes, Rachels reaction, Don thinking it was professionally a great move...when he finished, he fell silent and waited.

"I always knew Id have a gownmaker to the stars." He pronounced it without the r, emulating an old and overly-dramatic actress.

"Wait - what?"

"Vonny, this is amazing," he stated, and Kurt could hear the beaming grin in his voice - every bit as wide as his own smile when talking about Mercedes new album.

"Yeah?" he asked, heart fluttering with relief.

"Of course it is. And it means I have a place to stay when I visit Hollywood," he stated.

"I thought you were done stalking celebrities," Kurt pointed out, mostly teasing, and Ricky laughed.

"One mans stalking is another mans devoted following," he replied matter-of-factly.

"Into bathrooms."

"Only once," Ricky protested. "That was different - it was Chita Rivera."

"Mmhmm," Kurt replied dryly, but he couldnt stop grinning. He was really going to do this. "So youre really okay with me up and leaving? I dont know how long Id be gone..."

"You know my measurements - you can send me anything from there," he joked, which Kurt knew was an enthusiastic yes coming from the man he knew so well.

"I promise to remember you even when Im designing for the Oscars," Kurt replied. He had learned over the years exactly where the line for emotional expression laid with Ricky; there was a big difference between over-the-top displays of fake adoration and teasing that really meant I love you.

"Of course you will," Ricky replied dismissively. "You wouldnt dare forget. And none of them look half as good as I do in a sequinned turban."

"Thats true," Kurt laughed.

By the time he hung up the phone, he felt much better. Ricky would be fine - so would the rest of them. There was nothing wrong with going in search of success somewhere new - and Rachel only thought there was because she was jealous of anyones success that wasnt her own. Besides, the worst that could happen is that he would spend three months in the summer sun with a friend he hadnt spent nearly enough time with in recent years...then he could come back home and pick everything back up where hed left it.

Except one thing he had no intention of picking up again.

"Mind if I make one more call?" he asked, and Don chuckled as he lifted the receiver out of Kurts hand.

"Nope. Trust me - telling the head designer where to shove his job is much more satisfying in person."