A/N: Thanks, y'all, for hanging in while I finished this. I realized while writing this epilogue that I could have written a whole fic just for these post-college years with Kurt and Rachel and their friends in NY, but I really do need to put this fic to bed. I hope you all enjoy.

February, 2018

Kurt waved the bartender over and signalled for another drink, and struggled to hear Rachel through the phone over the din of the bar. "It's okay, baby," he told her. "Like I don't knowwhat it's like to get a show up. I just missed you tonight, is all."

"I promise, I'll come this weekend. I promise." He could hear yelling in the background.

Kurt nodded in thanks when his gin and tonic appeared, and he made a note to tip the bartender especially well. "You better go, before I get you in trouble."

"Oh, it's just the choreographer. He's a bear," she laughed. "But I think he likes me because I keep up pretty well."

"You do better than keep up and we both know it. Just- let me know when you're coming, and I'll leave a ticket at Will-Call. Unless you have a plus-one I don't know about?"

"Still a single girl in the big city. You know you'll be my first call when I finally do meet Mr. Right. We should have coffee, though, before the weekend. It's been weeks." Music started up on Rachel's end, and Kurt nodded even though she couldn't see him.

"Text me the time and place. You need to go before Mr. Bear has one of our heads. Love you, Rach."

"Love you too, Kurt."

He ended the call and let his phone dangle between his fingers. It had been such an intense couple of weeks, in the rush to get his play workshopped, and he'd been working almost around the clock making final edits to the script. He thought that what his cast had finally brought to life onstage that night had been pretty close to as perfect as he was going to get things, really, and the handful of investors he'd been able to schmooze afterwards had all been positive. He felt good, excited for the future of what he hoped was going to be his first show to make it outof workshop.

"Long day?" A voice drifted from beside him, and he turned to stare at an impossibly young-looking man with dark curls, freckles, and sea-green eyes.

"Long week," Kurt sighed, letting his phone drop to the bar. "Long year, really."

"Pity," the man said. "It's only February."

"Yeah, well. With any luck, things will get better from here."

"Actor or dancer?" The man let his eyes roam over Kurt's body, and he was glad that he'd changed out of his suit and into more casual clothes before coming out.

"Neither." For a long time, admitting that he wasn'ta performer had hurt. But he had settled into a comfortable space, now, with his writing and what it meant to him, and the sting wasn't nearly as strong as it had once been. "I'm a playwright."

"Mm. Anything I would have seen?"

"Highly doubtful. I'm not famous or anything." He wasn't even close, even though his first workshop had generated some minor buzz. But he'd still been in school then, and he hadn't pursued the avenues that would have moved the show off-Broadway.

"You will be," the man said with a nod and a tip of his nearly empty glass of something dark.

"Can I get you another?" Kurt tilted his head to the man's glass, and at the answering smile he beckoned to the bartender. "Club soda with lime for me, and whatever he's having."

"Coke," the man said with a shrug. "I don't drink," he said to Kurt when the bartender moved away again.

"You're 21, right?" Because Kurt might be a lot of things, but 6 years in the city meant he wasn't naiive, and he knew when he was being cruised for a pick-up.

"In November. Forgive me, but you look too young to be a not-famous playwright."

Kurt rolled his eyes, which he knewmade him look twelve. "I'm 24. Not ancient, but old enough."

"What's your show about?"

"Are you an actor?" Kurt was maybe a little short and sharp with the man, but he was also used to being hit up for parts or advice, when people found out he was in the industry.

"No," the boy shook his head. "English major, at Marymount."

"Oh, really? My best friend went there. We came out here together, for college. She was in their theater program."

"She's your girl on the phone?"

Kurt sighed. "You heard that, huh? You'd think, after all this time here, I'd have learned that nothing is private. Oh, well. You can take the boy out of Ohio, but you can't take the Ohio out of the boy."

The man blinked, swallowed from the bubbling glass of soda the bartender had dropped off moments before. "Ohio. Where?"

"Lima. West of Columbus, north of Dayton. Middle of nowhere, really. Why?"

"I grew up in Columbus." He held out his hand. "I'm Aaron."

"Kurt." Aaron's hand was cool from his drink, and Kurt thought that he felt Aaron hesitate in his shaking.

"You- where did you go to high school?"

"McKinley High, in Lima, but I spent half my Junior year at Dalton Academy, in Westerville."

"No shit." Aaron bit at his lip, and he looked both too impossibly young andtoo impossibly aware, and Kurt felt his breath catch as Aaron kept talking.

"I graduated from there. You can't- you're not- um."

"What?" This boy - man- had Kurt absolutely captivated.

"You're not Kurt Hummel, are you?"

Kurt blinked at him. Held his breath for a second. Kicked his brain in gear. "How do you- why would you-"

"I spent three years at Dalton listening to the other guys in Warblers talk about you, like you were this rare bird or magical creature. A part of Dalton, and outside of it at the same time. And I thought . . ." Aaron's voice trailed off, and Kurt couldn't help it, he had to touch him, so he rested his fingers gently on the back of Aaron's hand.

"You thought what?"

"I thought that if we'd known each other then, maybe I wouldn't have felt so alone at Dalton."

Kurt nodded. "Yeah. I hear that."

He felt movement behind him and startled lightly at the press of lips against the back of his neck.

"Hey, baby." Tyler's voice was low in his ear, and Kurt tipped his head back to smile up at him. "Did you completely floor them?"

"I think so," Kurt said. "I hope so, in any case."

Tyler dropped his dance bag to the floor and kicked it under Kurt's stool. "I'm sorry I missed it."

Kurt shrugged. "It's okay. Rachel missed it too." He turned to Aaron, who was watching everything with thinly veiled interest. "Aaron, this is Tyler. Tyler, Aaron."

Tyler reached around to shake Aaron's hand. "Boyfriend?" Aaron asked.

Kurt waited for Tyler to laugh before he joined in. "A long time ago," Kurt said.

"Not thatlong ago," Tyler ribbed.

Kurt fiddled with the napkin under his glass. "Turns out that ditching a brief turn at heterosexuality for a long-term thing with my best gay friend wasn't the the best thing for either of us. But," he said, leaning into Tyler's arm across his shoulder, "we're still gay best friends, so." He eyeballed Aaron, feeling ballsy and blatant and so tiredof playing games. "He gets right of refusal on any cute boys who try to pick me up in bars."

"I wasn't-" Aaron stammered, then blushed. "Okay," he sighed heavily. "Yes. I was trying to pick you up."

''You're adorable," Tyler said, nudging Kurt and settled half onto his bar stool with him.

"Thank you, I think." Aaron said, flashing Tyler a shy smile, and Kurt felt his stomach flip-flop.

What the hell am I even thinking? He didn't think he'd said the words out loud, but he must have, because Tyler leaned in and whispered in his ear.

"You haven't been with anyone in almost a year. Just take him home already."

It wasn't the taking him home part of the equation that was giving him pause. It was the unexpected Ohio connection, and the odd way that Aaron was affecting Kurt. It was the thrill of his night going well, and the slight buzz from his drinks. And Aaron's eyes.

Shit. Here goes nothing.

"Would you like to get dessert?" Kurt smiled at Aaron.

"That's not taking him home," Tyler hissed, but Kurt just waved him off.

"I'll call you tomorrow. If you think you'll make the show this weekend, let me know and I'll leave you a ticket," he said, slipping off his stool and holding his hand out to Aaron. "Shall we?"

Aaron shrugged into his coat and nodded. "I thought you'd never ask."

June 2020

"Babe? Hey? You almost ready? The car is here." Aaron's voice drifted from the front door to where Kurt was standing in front of the bedroom mirror with two ties in his hand.

"I can't decide," he replied, taking both of them with him to the kitchen. "Which one?"

Aaron ran his eyes up and down the length of Kurt's body, nodding at his slim-cut black suit and crisp silver shirt. Then he flicked his gaze back and forth from the solid purple tie to the black with tiny silver checks. "Black," he said, holding the door open. "You can put it on in the car."

"You're sure I won't look like I'm going to a funeral?" Kurt followed Aaron down the narrow stairs to the entryway and out into the brightness of the early evening.

"No. You'll look like a handsome playwright at his off-Broadway debut," he said, holding the door to the car and letting Kurt slide inside first.

"I feel like pinching myself," he said, knotting his tie with practiced efficiency as the car pulled into traffic.

"Would it make you more nervous or less if I told you that my AP students are coming tonight?"

Kurt rested his head against the smooth leather of the seat back. "Will you still give them good grades if they don't like it?"

Aaron stared at him. "No, I'll fail them," he deadpanned before knocking Kurt with his shoulder. "Of course I'll still give them good grades. But they're going to love it because you're amazing."

"I'm really nervous."

"I know you are, baby. But you've been doing this long enough. You know it wouldn't have gotten out of workshop if it wasn't good. It's going to be great. Just breathe, okay?" Aaron ran his thumb over the back of Kurt's hand, and Kurt shivered a little.

"Be careful what you start. We only have five more blocks." Kurt smiled, and let his mind wander to later, when his family was back at their hotel and their friends were all gone home, and he could have Aaron all to himself.

"Hey, I could get you off in five blocks."

"You are talented, yes. But I honestly don't think that would help my nerves any." Kurt gripped Aaron's hand hard, and tried to focus his breathing so he didn't hyperventilate. Because passing out at your own premiere would be reallyembarrassing.

"I love you," Aaron said as the car pulled up in front of the theater. "I love you and I'm proud of you."

"Thank you, baby," Kurt whispered, but Aaron was already gone, moving out of the car and into the small crowd in front of the theater.

It was largely friends and family, and a clump of people with notebooks and tiny recorders. Kurt hadn't expected any kind of showing, really, because it was justoff-Broadway. But he followed Aaron through the crowd, stopping to hug his dad and Carole, and wave to Rachel, who was talking to Finn. He thought he saw Tyler lingering on the edge of things with the chorus boy he'd been dating since before Christmas. And then someone was in his way, slightly pushy and offering a hand for shaking.

"Mr. Hummel, I'm Frank Jessop from the Times. A few questions?"

Kurt took a breath, turned on his smile, and pointedly ignored the butterflies in his stomach. "Mr. Jessop. Of course. What can I tell you about my little play?"