Disclaimer: I own nothing but the plot, Danielle Anderson, Anthony Marksman, Jamie Lewis, and Duke Whitely.

Enjoy. Songs to listen to while reading? Charlene Kaye's "All The Life Around" and Panic! At The Disco's "Always." An alternative? Ingrid Michaelson's "The Way I Am." Trust me, they'll set the mood. (And, I know I said two days, but I couldn't wait. dfsfsfsf)

After three long years, it was Kurt and Blaine again—not Kurt and another person. Not Blaine, alone. Kurt and Blaine.

12. epilogue: one year later
of I'm Not Gonna Teach Him How To Dance With You
by littlemusings

Balancing his comeback on the Broadway stage for the upcoming seasonal run of Wicked and his bourgeoning, independent fashion career was a very difficult thing to do, and much more hardcore and demanding than he expected. Oh, get used to it. You've been doing this for nearly four years now, he thought to himself. He would wake up early in the morning, at around six, or even five, depending on the day—and Joe Mantello's hardcore rehearsal schedule—and shower, make breakfast, eat said breakfast, dress up, and head to work: five hours at the studio, and then the rest of the afternoon was dedicated to rehearsal for Wicked.

He was incredibly happy when he had the weekends off. It was then he got to relax.

Usually, he would wake up in the late morning and grab a coffee at Starbucks—it was still nothing like the good ol' Lima Bean back in Ohio, of course—and sit there while reading the latest issue of Vogue to catch up on the latest fashions. He loved to get ideas and then make them his own. He'd sit alone for hours on end, just scribbling down ideas.

But, that Saturday, he was sitting in Starbucks in the early morning, humming to himself, Grande non-fat mocha and the November 2020 edition of Vogue in hand, waiting for someone.

And, that someone was his boyfriend, Blaine Anderson, who was busy with a record company meeting.

Kurt Hummel turned around to look for a seat for them to share when he recognized a mop of dyed, dark brown hair and equally chocolate eyes.

"Kurt Hummel."

"Anthony Marksman," Kurt responded, a smile creeping upon his face. He and Anthony gave each other a hug—albeit it being an awkward hug—and sat down at a table together.

"How have you been? I heard Wicked is coming back to the stage next week!" Anthony said enthusiastically, legs crossed, hand on one knee. He was wearing a simple, white v-neck and tight jeans. Kurt took a sip of his coffee and laughed.

"Yeah, it is. I've been fine, very fine. How about you?"

Anthony shrugged. "I guess I've been doing quite well. A lot of my work has been sold in the past few months, so I call that progress."

"Congratulations! I saw you in Metropolitan last week, for your latest work. Is it really going to France?"

"Yeah, crazily enough. I was really surprised when the French Prime Minister wanted to buy it. I guess he loved the color scheme of it all."

"What, maroon and maroon?" Kurt laughed.

"Oh, don't mess with me," Anthony snickered. "You really do have to admit, maroon is a very nice shade."

"Eh, purple is much better."

"They're closely-related shades!" Anthony said in defense.

"Whatever you say, Mr. Painter."

"Hey, hey, I'm the art major here."

They two laughed, looking down at their feet. "So, Anthony," Kurt began, "Been doing well? Personally…and not career-wise?"

"Well, I guess you can say that. Whatever happened last year helped me out with my work."

Kurt blushed in embarrassment. "Again…I'm sorry."

"Hey, I'm fine now, look at me," Anthony laughed. "I was an asshole to you."

"Nah. You may have thrown a wayward punch and other things...but...nah."

Anthony gave him a furtive look. "Whatever you say. I think you're just being too nice to me."

Kurt smiled. "Nah."

"Well, I've got to go." He stood up, picking up his backpack.

"Oh, alright. It was great to see you again," Kurt smiled, standing up as well. Anthony held out a hand to Kurt, and Kurt shook it firmly.

"Same here, Hummel. Hope you and Anderson are doing well," Anthony winked, walking away. Kurt smiled and sat down again, idly flipping through the pages of his magazine. Just then, he felt a little tap on his shoulder and a kiss on his cheek. Jumping in surprise, nearly spilling his coffee everywhere, he turned around to meet a pair of hazel-green eyes.

"Blaine! You scared the living crap out of me!" he laughed hysterically. He and Blaine shared a quick peck on the lips, and Blaine sat across from him, chuckling.

"Sorry, babe, but it had to be done."

Kurt gave him a suspicious glance. "You could have killed me, Anderson."

"I would never," Blaine said with mock horror, putting his hand over his heart. "Was that Anthony Marksman I just saw walk out of here?"

"Yeah, he just wanted to say hi."

"You're not thinking about going back with him to his gallery later, are you?"

"Blaine!"

"Joking, I'm only joking!" Blaine gasped, choking with laughter. Kurt aimed a small kick at him under the table, but Blaine caught his foot between his ankles and stuck his tongue out at Kurt playfully. "Not on my watch, Kurt."

"Well, I'll get you one of these days," Kurt grinned. Their faces were closer, and he pressed his lips against Blaine's. One or two people stared, but they honestly didn't care.

After the Congress Theater break-in, they got back together. There were, of course, mixed reviews from the public about this—but the two of them didn't give a shit, which was their new mantra when it came to public relations. Finn, of course, was the most vocal about his happiness.

"Wait. So…Blaine…you guys are…together again?" Finn asked when they met up in a coffee shop in New York again. Blaine personally brought Kurt back to New York before heading to the short Canadian leg of his tour.

Kurt stared at his brother, obviously annoyed. He took Blaine's hand in his and held it up. "What does it look like Finn?"

"We're just holding hands for fun. We're in a perfectly platonic relationship," Blaine supplied, grinning.

"Oh, fuck you both!" Finn laughed loudly, clapping. "Finally!"

"We didn't kiss on stage for nothing, Finn!" Kurt laughed, aiming a kick at Finn, who immediately shifted in his seat to avoid it.

"Well, I'm glad," Finn smiled softly. "This was a long time coming. Like, three years."

"I'm glad, too," Kurt whispered as he put his head on Blaine's shoulder. Blaine kissed the top of his chestnut hair.

"At least, whenever you guys get married, I won't have to beat Blaine with a spatula. 'Cause at least I know you."

"Spatula…?" Blaine frowned, looking at Kurt, who bit his lip.

"Let's just say that when Anthony and Finn didn't get along…things happened…" Kurt said uneasily, shifting in his seat.

"Spatula."

"Yeah, it was funny," Finn laughed. "Quinn got mad at me for being immature and stuff, but I really didn't like the dude. He didn't like me back, too, so yeah."

"I'd like to hear that story one day," Blaine grinned.

Any color in Kurt's face drained. "Oh, god, please don't. It's embarrassing."

"Yeah, it'll be a good one to tell at your engagement party one day."

"Oh, it's too soon for that," Kurt and Blaine said at the same time. They looked at each other and laughed.

Burt and Carole were elated as well, and Burt gave Kurt a firm warning:

"The next time you break this boy's heart, Kurt—I know you're my son and all—that'll be it. I'm gonna force you to move back in with Carole and I. I don't care if you're twenty-five. I'm also gonna expose all of your baby photos to the public—"

"DAD!"

"I'm only kidding, Kurt. I'm happy for you. Both you and Blaine."

James and Maria Anderson were surprised. After watching the LiveStream of the concert, they called Blaine on Skype immediately and had a quick talk with Kurt.

"Kurt Elizabeth Hummel, if you break my son's heart again—"

"Dad, calm down!" Blaine exclaimed, panicking.

"Kidding, kidding. Watch…watch my boy, okay?" James said softly.

"Hay naku, anak, here's another wedding to plan!"

"MOM!"

When Kurt arrived back in New York, he got the biggest scolding from Marnie Cervico and the board—but they decided to reschedule the meeting when they found out the news about Blaine Anderson and him getting back together. Everyone in the office was looking forward to that day, anyway-the day Kurt Hummel stopped being such a workaholic and settled down with someone.

Marnie stared at him, arms folded. "You're fired, Hummel."

"What?" Kurt gasped, shaking. Jamie clutched his hand tightly. "Please, Miss Cervico, I can explain—"

A grin broke across the editor-in-chief's face.

"Just kidding," Marnie winked. "We all knew why you skipped out, anyway. But here's a fair warning: the world of fashion waits for no one. If Anna Wintour went out of retirement and got this job back, she would have fired you in a heartbeat."

"I understand."

Even though Blaine and Kurt had demanding jobs—Blaine constantly touring for half the year, and Kurt traveling to France and London during the Broadway off-season for Pavarotti, and rehearsing for Wicked, and reviewing scripts and scores for new shows—they had managed to make it work. They sometimes joined each other on their foreign ventures. Blaine relocated to New York, and he and Kurt now shared an apartment in Queens—they both agreed that despite their combined wealth, it would be better to just buy a cheaper, simple, yet beautiful apartment since they weren't always together. Blaine had the Navigator shipped over to the city, which made Kurt the happiest car owner in the world.

They moved in together earlier that year, around January, soon after Kurt resigned from his job at Vogue to focus on his independent career and Broadway, realizing that he could build his own career, and Marnie understood this. Kurt designed the entire apartment, and Blaine watched him do so with a bright smile on his face. Right now, Blaine was on a three-month break from touring in order to spend the holidays with his boyfriend.

Jamie was still Kurt's assistant, and she and Duke became good friends. Danielle and Duke, on the other hand, were still dating, and they were based in New York as well. Twenty-two year old Danielle was interning for The New Yorker, as a frequent columnist, and Duke still managed Blaine, of course, which he would, until Blaine died. Which didn't happen yet, obviously, so he was confident that he would be his best friend's manager forever. Danielle lived in SoHo and Duke had an apartment on the Upper East Side.

The four did try to go double dates, but they were utter fiascos. No one knew where to eat, and no one knew what movie to watch (rather, one time, for example, Kurt and Blaine wanted to catch The Book of Mormon on Broadway, while Duke and Dani wanted to see whatever Final Destination movie number was playing). While Duke and Danielle maintained a healthy love-hate relationship, Kurt and Blaine worked on fixing what they had lost.

"Blaine, you're staring again," Kurt laughed. Blaine blinked and smiled, posed in an ever-familiar stance: chin on the palm of his hand, a dopey smile on his face.

"I love you. I really, really do."

Kurt sipped his coffee and responded back, sincerely, with a smug beam creeping upon his lips, "I love you, too, though I'm sensing some major déjà-vu here, Bee."

"I know, just wanted to relive that moment. You know, like the romantic I am," Blaine shrugged, still gazing into Kurt's eyes. Kurt stared back.

"Oh, please," Kurt scoffed, waving his hand with fake indifference. "I'm more romantic than you are."

"I do not concur with your statement, young man, though 'I would follow you to anywhere you travel with a rose in my teeth,'" Blaine sang smoothly. Kurt copied his pose, and they both burst out laughing.

"Let's go before we get kicked out for eye-fucking in the middle of a coffee shop," Kurt said taking his hand. Blaine squeezed it and the both stood up together, holding hands as they walked out of the Starbucks. Some people stared at them in awe, and some women took out their cell phones to snap photos.

"I know this is all old news to you now, and you'd rather not hear about any of this anymore, but what was the one thing you didn't like about Anthony?"

"Other than his dyed hair?"

Kurt snorted. "Blaine, you gel your hair down until it's nothing but brick."

"That's different."

"You're insane."

"My insanity attracts you, then. I think that's it. That's why you flew all the way to Chicago last May."

Kurt opened the door to his Navigator. "No, really, what was the one thing you hated about him?"

"He was a terrible dancer, as evidenced by the Engagement Party Train Wreck Extravaganza that I'd like to avoid whenever we get engaged and married and all of that jazz. I would really prefer it if you didn't ask him to paint for everyone, if we ever have a party."

"Oh, god," Kurt burst out into a fit of giggles as he turned his key in the ignition. "When we get married. You just said, 'when we get married.'"

"It'll happen someday," Blaine winked.

"I don't think I want a party, probably just a date between you and me to celebrate and all of that," Kurt said brightly. "Because we all know that Danielle is going to get very fucked up again, and I don't think anyone wants her to give a drunken monologue in her underwear like on your last birthday…"

"Don't remind me, Duke had to punch a few people. I blame Junie for slipping something in her drink. I think she and Jamie had a bet or something."

"So, yes, in order to avoid such a shitty fiasco, Italian, we shall eat, whenever that day comes."

"Italian, again?" Blaine questioned, his eyebrows rising.

"Yes, I'll order you as much fettuccine as you want."

"Now, that's what I wanted to hear," Blaine whispered, cupping Kurt's cheek and pulling him in for another, deep kiss, their tongues battling one another. They were lucky the Navigator's windows were tinted.

They separated for air after a few minutes. "Oh, god, not in the car, Blaine," Kurt gasped, his face turning red. Blaine leaned back in his seat smugly.

"To home we go?"

"That sounds like a brilliant idea."

The End

Final Author's Note:

I love you all. If only I could give you all Internet hugs and klisses and everything under the sun. I would, if I could (breaks out into song). "I'm Not Gonna Teach Him How To Dance With You" has been completed. My first completed multi-chaptered fanfic. Man. This is surreal.

AGH AND IT ENDED WITH FLUFF. SHAMELESS FLUFF. AND THIS IS THE SHORTEST CHAPTER AT SIX PAGES. MY HEART. SOMEONE TAKE MY HEART AND THROW IT INTO A WELL AND LET IT DIE. I AM FOREVER ALONE. Ahem. Anyway…

Please check out my newest story, "Witness Protection Problem"! It needs some ~love~. I hope you guys will like it! Don't let the M-rating deter you. ANYWAY, IT HAS BADBOY!BLAINE, SO I'M EXCITED TO COMPLETE IT. I THINK I'M JUST STALLING BECAUSE I DON'T WANT TO FINISH THE LAST AUTHOR'S NOTE OF THIS STORY—

"JUST LIKE MANY RELATIONSHIPS, I THINK I'M JUST GOING TO…RUN AWAY."

Love,
Sam

P.S. I'm thinking of making a compilation of one-shots…like, prequel-shots to this story. Like, snapshots of Dani and Blaine's childhood (especially moments Danielle mentioned to Duke in chapters eight and 11), meeting Duke for the first time, UCLA, angsty!Blaine and angsty!Kurt separation moments, and stuff leading up to this story. What do y'all think? 'Cause I have a crazy headcanon for this and everything. PLUS, THE FINN VS. ANTHONY SPATULA BATTLE WILL BE IN IT. YAY. I kind of don't want to leave my Dance 'Verse yet. Welp.

(Oh, and I hate Ryan Murphy because Blaine is not a fucking junior, damn it...AT LEAST NOT TO ME and 99.9999% of the fandom.)