A/N: Sorry it's been so long! It took ages to get my writing muse back. This is the last chapter, and I hope you like it. Let me know what you think! I do not own the rights to Glee or to Edward Sharpe and the Magnetic Zeros' song, of course. I can't believe it's been a year exactly since the finale aired, and it took me so long to finish this, which I started back then...

It had been the memory of how Tina had felt in his arms again that had spurred Artie into laying out the food that he had fretted over in the kitchen all morning on an improvised table in the choir room. He had scrutinised the picnic with critical eyes, wanting the vibe to be just right. He had even made some calls to ensure that no one would be using the choir room at that time.

But of course, Tina had waltzed in with that delighted smile, and she had looked so gorgeous with her hair curled just so, plastic champagne glass dangling elegantly between her fingers, that he had wimped out and gone all Monica and Chandler on her. It could've gone worse – at least she had actually seemed to like the idea! – but it hadn't quite captured the whole immediate "would you go out with me again?" element that he'd been envisioning. Even if he'd managed to throw in the "that's how you miss out on finding the perfect guy for you" line.

(Still, she had called it romantic.)

(Hold up, had she actually agreed to marry him?)

They were out at a small jazz club in Cleveland, where Mercedes had decided to surprise one of her fans for her birthday at her birthday party, since she was in Lima for the wedding. Artie had, of course, tried to argue his way out of it.

"You've got to come with us, it'll be fun. I'll just sing a song or two and then we'll be out of there," Mercedes cajoled with a frown, her arms crossed.

"Her friend only invited you on Twitter, she didn't invite all your friends," Artie shot back, fidgeting. A night in a cramped, sweaty bar with little room to move around didn't sound that pleasant.

"I'm sure she'll let us all in, they're hired the place for the night. And I am her favourite singer ever apparently," Mercedes preened slightly at this, "and besides, it's good publicity. My manager says I need to get with the times, everyone else is doing it. Didn't you see how popular that Maroon 5 video was when they gatecrashed all those weddings? It's not like they complained that it wasn't just Adam Levine!"

"That was because James Valentine and the others are, believe it or not, actually part of the band, Mercedes," Artie said drily. She rolled her eyes.

"That's not the point. Anyway, it's the last night that the rest of us are going to be here together, now that the newlyweds are on their honeymoon. It's kind of nice to prolong the feeling of being in high school together again, you know? Who knows when the next time will be?"

She had a point there.

"Plus, I'm reliably informed that there's an open bar," Mercedes added, and he sighed, knowing he was fighting a losing battle. He'd forgotten how exhausting it was to argue with Mercedes—for every argument he produced, she was bound to have twenty.

"Fine, fine, I'll go." He half-laughed at her triumphant expression.

So that was how Artie found himself huddled on a chair at the bar, his wheelchair tucked around the corner. After all Mercedes' reassurances, he had been right and he had immediately assessed that there wasn't enough space for him to manoeuvre around. At least the bar stools have backs on them and rings around the bottom so I don't slip off, he thought with a touch of bitterness as he played with his bottle of beer absentmindedly.

He surveyed the happy crowd, mostly girls, who were dancing to Mercedes' upbeat single. The birthday girl had flipped out as expected, and welcomed them all to her celebrations with over enthusiastic hugs and shrieks. Puck was dancing off to the side with Rachel, who had promised to be on her best behaviour and not steal the microphone, and he could see Sugar buying an intimidated-looking guy a drink at the far end of the bar. Kitty had disappeared to a house party after a few songs, dragging Jane and Rodrick with her. Sam was dancing near the stage, stealing glances at Mercedes whenever he thought she wasn't looking.

He took a swig of his beer, trying not to look too obviously for the pair he was most curious about.

Mike and Tina had been dancing together ever since Mercedes had sauntered on stage, blithely dismissing the disgruntled DJ.

"When I was with Mike I was the happiest I've ever been."

Even after his dismissal of her proposal—the retelling of which he had coaxed out of her with wine and ice cream—she was still on good terms with him, without throwing any diva fits.

"I just feel so guilty and embarrassed that I put him on the spot like that," Tina said sheepishly, staring down at the rapidly melting tub of mint chocolate chip in her hand. "He's a good guy, Artie."

He couldn't help but think that Mike's glances at Tina were a touch too adoring for someone who had shot her down a few days ago.

(Not that he was complaining. He'd take mixed signals over their engagement any day.)

Since when had "I'll just sing a song or two and we can get out of there" turned into a whole set? He supposed he should've known better, knowing Mercedes' penchant for being appreciated. She normally hid it better than Rachel, but they were both kindred spirits in some ways.

And really, since when did Mike get a third chance, when he hadn't even merited a second?

(Not that he was bitter.)

(Hell, he was totally bitter.)

"I let Mike get away and it was the biggest mistake of my life."

He scowled.

And here he was, drinking alone. He knew he had-hell, they all had-changed after high school, but sometimes he still felt exactly the same Artie he had been, especially when he was surrounded by the Glee club. It was as if everyone slipped back into their old selves here. The Rachel, Sam, Santana, Kurt, and Blaine that gathered for Monday dinners in the loft seemed so distant, almost a caricature of adulthood. Or were they a caricature of youth here, stuck in the past?

"You look too serious for a party."

Tina's voice startled him out of his philosophical musings. He twisted to look at her, slipping lithely onto the stool next to him. He drank in how everything about her was elegant, from the way her long hair fell in gentle waves around her face to the way her black glittery top and jeans clung to her curves, her feet arched in sinfully tall stilettos. He wondered if they hurt. She had certainly complained about wearing heels before. Perhaps this was part of her adulthood, a mark of Rhode Island changing her.

There was an awkward beat when he realised she was waiting for an answer and he hesitated a second too long, as she turned to the barman who had suddenly appeared to ask for a rum and Coke. Artie bristled slightly at the way the barman leered at her as he fixed her drink and set it down in front of her. Did his fingers just linger too long so they could brush hers? He sent the barman a warning look for good measure. He wasn't Mike. He could glare without repercussions.

"Mercedes sure seems to be having fun," Tina said, propping her elbow on the counter and leaning her chin on her hand. Her pose gave him a clear view down her top and Artie looked quickly away, blushing.

"I knew she couldn't resist the lure of an open microphone and stage," he agreed, trying to focus on the conversation at hand.

Her gaze turned wistful. "Did I ever tell you I was called back for an audition that day that Rachel had her diva fit just before opening night of Funny Girl and stopped leaving her bedroom?"

His head jerked at her soft question. She hadn't.

"The casting director was saying something about how they wanted to be diverse and represent 'the population of New York'" – she drew quotation marks around the words, pulling a face – "and then he asked me if I could do accents. And I knew what he was really asking, so I just hung up on him."

Artie gaped at her.

"I couldn't. I just couldn't. And then I went back to Rachel's bedroom, where she just had her perfect role handed to her and she was refusing to perform it, where she was refusing her talent. And I didn't tell anyone." She stared down into her glass.

"But the worst thing was that I kept thinking about how I knew my CV wasn't very strong, and how maybe, I shouldn't have hung up on him. Maybe I should've just taken it, if only to have something to bulk it out with. Who cares if it's just a dumb Asian role, huh? I mean, it's not there are that many mainstream Asian actresses out there with roles that don't play on jokes on their accents, or their ethnicity. They're always defined by their looks, and they never get to play just the pretty girl."

She briskly tucked a stray lock of her hair behind her ear and took a long sip.

Artie reached out to cover her chilled fingers. "You're better than that, Tee," he said seriously, willing her to look at him, "and you should always practice asking for what you want out of your life. And I know you, you don't want it. Your gut instinct was that you didn't want it, and you should listen to it."

Her fingers twitched under his.

"Besides, I'd cast you as the pretty girl any day."

Her eyes shot up to meet his, taking in his blush. He hadn't thought he would have the guts to say it, but apparently his treacherous mouth was racing ahead of his mind tonight.

"Speaking as an objective director and not a friend?" she challenged archly, and he mentally winced at the word 'friend'.

"Speaking as a totally objective director," Artie agreed, draining his glass to disguise his disappointment.

Tina was silent for a moment.

"And are you?" she asked after a beat. He cocked his head quizzically at her, so she elaborated.

"Are you practicing asking for what you want out of your life?"

He shifted in his seat to steal a look sideways at her. There was something hopeful in her obsidian eyes that he thought he recognised from a long time ago, when she was still in the habit of looking at him fondly like she thought he could do impossible things. Like she thought he was capable of anything.

His heart lurched.

Was this the moment?

"Look at Kurt and Blaine and how spontaneous they were, and how everything just worked out. I wish just for once that could be me."

"I thought I was, but it turns out that asking your ex-girlfriend if she would ever consider taking you back is harder than you thought. Especially when she keeps going after your mutual friends and asking for your opinion," he blurted out in one breath.

It took more nerve than facing his brief solos at all their Glee competitions combined to not look away from Tina.

"Artie," she said softly, and a shiver went down his back at her reverential tone. He had always thought his name had sounded best in her melodic voice. "I didn't know you still felt that way. It's been years, Artie."

"Yeah well, I meant it when I said I would never have broken up with you," Artie muttered, feeling like he was going to be sick. He caught the bartender's eye and tapped his empty bottle. They sat in silence as the bartender popped open another beer and slid it towards him.

He took a fortifying sip as his mind raced, weighing the pros and cons of letting it slide and blaming the alcohol for nostalgia. Would he regret not saying anything? He pictured going back to New York and the waiting he would inevitably do before getting the chance to talk to her again without their friends around, and for what? For a chance just like this one? He'd watched so many films, read so many scripts, and scoffed at the obvious turning points, but he suddenly had a newfound sympathy for the oblivious characters. It was much harder to identify it when you were potentially faced with one, he decided.

He thought back to his past self in the choir room, blithely telling Tina to grab the moment and run with it. Well, he'd already gone and made a fool of himself.

He ran with it.

"I think about you, us, a lot. We were kids back then, and I was the idiot who didn't text you that summer, even if I was the idiot who was head over heels for you and didn't know how to deal with it. I like to think I've gotten better at that, though clearly I still somehow lose my head around you and end up making inappropriate comments but I…"

Artie trailed off shakily when Tina laid her hand on his tense arm, clutching his new beer like a lifeline.

"Ever since our picnic lunch, I've been thinking about what you said," she said quietly, and he thought there was a hint of nerves underlying her words, "and the thought crossed my mind that maybe I've been going after men I knew who would be safe. Because I didn't have a shot with Blaine, and Mike," she paused, a faraway look in her eyes, "there wasn't a chance he could hurt me because I didn't let him close enough to. Even when we were dating, we never argued much because there wasn't anything to argue about. I never raised an argument after the first one we had about his mom because I realised I was the only one in it. He never really pushed me to argue back."

She smiled wryly at him, and his heart started double-timing at the warmth in her smile.

"But you…you'd never let me do that. You give as good as you get. I still remember when you tore me a new one in the hallway when we were arguing about valedictorian."

He half-grimaced, half-smiled at the memory. "In my defence, I didn't say a word about the alien invading your body theory for the better part of a whole year," he argued feebly.

"See? You're still arguing," she pointed out smugly, and he deflated. "Anyway, that just proves my point. You let me work things out, but you let me know when things get out of hand. You make me see outside the box, even when I don't want to." She leaned forward slightly in her chair. "You're as stubborn as I am, and I know I need that. And I know we've gotten better at apologising and talking through it when we're both being too stubborn."

It was beginning to sound like – "Hold up. Are you saying yes?!"

She giggled at his disbelieving tone.

"Yes," she said simply, and he stared at her for a beat in wonder before what she was saying resonated in his brain.

"You could've just led with that instead of giving me a heart attack! You realise you were just preaching to the choir, right, about how compatible we are?" Artie joked, feeling the jittery aftershock from actually asking her out again still bubbling under his skin.

Tina shoved him in response, still grinning.

"Just saying," he shrugged, nudging her shoulder with his playfully.

"This is a shout-out to all my best friends and new friends in the room – sing along if you know the words!" Mercedes' magnified voice blared out from the speakers nearby, and Artie grinned as the familiar track started playing.

"Alabama, Arkansas, I do love my Ma and Pa

Not the way that I do love you

Well, holy moly me oh my

You're the apple of my eye

Girl I've never loved one like you"

Tina shifted her chair so that she could lean back against him to look at the stage, and Artie wrapped one arm around her shoulder, bracing himself against the counter with the other. She sighed happily and shuffled closer to him.

"Man oh man you're my best friend

I scream it to the nothingness

There ain't nothing that I need"

"Remember the Homecoming bonfire?" she murmured against him, and he sang the next verse, their verse, quietly, feeling content as the song swelled.

She twisted to look at him, and he couldn't help but wonder at the turn of events tonight, ending up with Tina in his arms again. It had taken them years to get to this point, but maybe that had been why. Maybe they had needed all those years to mature before trying again. Maybe this time, they wouldn't be so quick to give up.

Her eyes were full of a similar promise when she leaned in, her long hair coming untucked from behind her ear, and he was suddenly reminded of a sunny afternoon in Ohio.

Their lips brushed once, twice, and he smiled into the kiss as he had that day in the cold shadow of the school bus.

"Home is wherever I'm with you."