The coming Friday marks the start of the football season, and Blaine, Nick and Jeff decide to, as Seniors, go along to help spread a little Dalton pride at the opening game against St Mark's High.

"Lily's coming tonight," says Nick excitedly as they make their way towards the bleachers.

 "Of course she is," says Jeff.

The boys are dressed in their school slacks and tie, blazers left behind in Jeff's following an afternoon stop for ice cream. Blaine had been quick to tell them that it wasn't nearly as good as the place Kurt had taken him Monday afternoon, promising to take Nick and Jeff there one day before they graduated.

Jeff's eyes rake through the filling crowd. He lets out a low whistle.

"Big crowd," he remarks. "I'd love to see half these numbers at a soccer game."

"Or an interschool debate," adds Nick.

"Or a choir recital," adds Blaine.

Blaine, Jeff and Nick exchange looks of understanding. It isn't like they're unpopular, far from it. But the three of them just find it irksome, sometimes, to do something so well and not be appreciated for it simply because it isn't something that everyone else loves.

"We should have just become football jocks," says Jeff, somewhat bitterly. "We could have had all the girls, too."

"Speak for yourselves," says Nick proudly, spotting Lily in the crowd and giving her a wave.

Blaine and Jeff exchange glances before rolling their eyes. They're happy for Nick, of course they are- he is their best friend, after all. They just don't see how him having one girlfriend in his 18 years of life makes him the huge stud he seems to think he is.

"Hey, check it out," says Nick, hitting Blaine in the chest and effectively winning his attention.

Blaine looks in the direction towards which Nick is nudging his head. Standing next to Lily is a tall, blonde-haired girl - Lily's best friend Jenna. When her gaze meets Blaine's, she gives a wide smile, gesturing to the empty seat beside her.

"She's liked you forever, man," says Jeff. His eyes are glued to Jenna, giving her a once over before finally looking at Blaine. "Why don't you ask her out already?"

"Yeah," agrees Nick "I mean, she's hot. Nothing compared to Lil or anything, but still, good enough for you."

"Thanks for that," says Blaine flatly.

"You know what I mean," says Nick, before urging him with a gently nudge. "C'mon, ask her out! Give me one good reason why you shouldn't?"

Let's see, Blaine thinks to himself, She's a girl, she probably only likes me because of my dad, she's a homophobic bigot who got grossed out that one time that we saw two girls kiss at the mall, and she's a girl.

"She's just, not my type," Blaine says with a shrug.

"Oh really?" asks Nick with a smirk. "Who is your type then? Kurt?"

Nick starts making kissing noises, puckering his lips uncomfortably close to Blaine's face. Blaine swats him away, rolling his eyes.

"Screw you guys."

"Nah, I see why you wouldn't want to date her though," says Jeff, looking at Jenna appraisingly. "I mean, she'd make you look like even more of a hobbit than you usually do."

"Thanks," says Blaine.

"C'mon," says Nick, smiling up at Lily again. "Let's go join them before all the seats fill up."

But they never make it to the bleachers. Because, seconds later, someone's tapping on Blaine's shoulder. Blaine turns around until he's faced with a boy about his age, dressed in the St Mark's football uniform, and glowering down at Blaine with a look so murderous the Dalton boy may as well have killed the other boy's mother.

 "Hey," says Blaine, attempting to be friendly as he takes in just how big the St Mark's boy is. Because he is big. A good head taller than Blaine which, admittedly, isn't that tall, but the width of his shoulders must be double that of Blaine's at the very least.

"You're the Anderson boy, aren't you?" asks the St Mark's boy with narrowed eyes.

"That's right," says Blaine warily, eyeing the boy's hands where his fingers are curling around his knuckles.

"So apparently your family's the reason that my dads can't get married."

Blaine's mouth falls open. This he hadn't been expecting. Especially not at a football game. What can he even say to that? I'm sorry my father has some pretty prehistoric values but please don't take it out on me because I actually agree with you? Yeah, like that's going to go down well.

But apparently silence isn't quite the way to go either.

 "What the fuck,-" demands the boy, his voice growing louder as he takes slow steps towards Blaine, "makes you think you can just go around saying who can and can't get married, huh?"

"Dude, relax," says Nick, stepping forward to place a hand on the St Mark's boy's chest. But the boy hits it away with his forearm . Nick's eyes widen, as he cautiously takes a step back.

Out of the corner of his eye, Blaine can see a crowd of curious students gathering around them.

"Look, I don't mean any trouble," says Blaine calmly, raising both hands in a gesture of surrender.

"Yeah, it's not Blaine's fault that your dads are fags!"

Blaine snaps around at the words. With widened eyes, he spots Jenna a few metres behind him, arms crossed across her chest and glaring at the St Mark's boy as if he were scum.

 "Jenna, don't," growls Blaine. He's not sure if it's the fact that she's making things worse, or the fact that she just shouted the word that mere days ago had been graffitied across Kurt's face, but something inside Blaine snaps and he's no longer willing to even try and hide his feelings for her.

"Oh no, you don't!" shouts the St Mark's boy angrily, and Blaine spins around to face him, only to find that he's even closer than before "You don't get to play the hero here. I know who you are. I know your family."

"You don't know the first thing about me," says Blaine angrily, his words slow but firm as he holds his ground.

"I know enough," seethes the boy.

Their bodies are so close they may as well be touching. Blaine takes a few deep breaths to calm himself down before he does something he'll regret

"Look, I'm not going to do this here," he says, stepping back.

Blaine turns around and makes to leave, Nick and Jeff scrambling to fall into step beside him.

"Don't you fucking walk away from me!"

Blaine turns around to face the boy once more, to tell him one last time that this is the end of the discussion. He never gets the words out, though, as a fist crashes into his face. Instantly he's on the ground, a heavy body pressing him down into the grass.

At first, his senses are heightened. He feels the pain of every blow, hears the screams that carry through the air, feels the shifting of the body above him as there are tugs and angry commands to ‘get the fuck off'.

But gradually, it all fades away.

 Somewhere along the line, Blaine blacks out completely.

When Blaine comes to, at first all he sees is white. There's a moment where he thinks that maybe this is it. Perhaps the St Mark's boy had killed him, actually killed him. That is, until he hears his mother gasp in relief.

"Oh, Blaine!"

Blaine blinks a few times, until he can see more than just colours. He's in a hospital, tucked under white sheets. The first person that comes into view is his mother, standing at his bedside, a tissue clasped between her fingers as she looks down at him with tear-streaked eyes. Relief floods her face. Next to her, Senator Anderson's face shows far less emotion, but even he can't hide a certain degree of relief.

"What happened?" asks Blaine, scrambling to sit up. As he puts pressure on his elbow, he winces at the sharp pain that it causes.

"You'll be okay, son," says Senator Anderson. "You black out pretty easily, apparently. You've just bruised in a lot of places. But you're fine."

"Fine?" gasps Mrs Anderson, looking up at her husband. She's a small woman, just a little over five feet, but the Anderson men know well and truly that when she gets fired up about something, she's no pushover. "He was beaten up at a football game by some quarterback. I don't think that qualifies as ‘fine'."

"And we will press charges accordingly," says Senator Anderson calmingly. "When the media get hold of this there'll be an outrage. It'll show the liberals that they can't just go around doing what they want, that's for sure."

"John!" exclaims Mrs Anderson, shocked. "Have a little bit of concern for your son before you go and start your scheming."

"Cecilia, honey, I told you I'm already looking at pressing charges," says Senator Anderson with a tired sigh. Except Blaine can tell he's not really tired. It's simply the sigh that he gives when he doesn't want to discuss a topic further.

"Maybe we should pull you out of school," gushes Mrs Anderson worriedly, turning back to Blaine.

"Mum!" wails Blaine. Usually he'd try a bit harder not to sound like such a demanding youngest child but this, he feels, is worth the argument.

"Honey, if these kids are going to attack you for your father's job, maybe it isn't safe for you to be at school anymore," says Mrs Anderson.

Or maybe it's Dad's job that's the problem.

"That's insane, mum," argues Blaine. "What, are you just going to hide me away for the whole campaign? If dad's brought this on our family then we're just going to have to face the consequences."

"Hey now, it's not my fault these people don't know how to solve their problems with words and not fists," says Senator Anderson defensively.

"It's still technically your fault that they're angry in the first place," reasons Blaine. "And maybe that's because words aren't working for them anymore."

"Oh honey, don't defend them," says Mrs Anderson pityingly.

Senator Anderson, meanwhile, doesn't share her sympathies.

"What are you trying to say?" he asks, eyebrows narrowing dangerously.

Blaine remembers himself then. God, what is he even doing? He has always felt his father was wrong, always thought that marriage equality seemed like a basic right - even before he had realised he was gay. But he never argues like this. No, he keeps it inside. For the sake of the family. For the sake of the party.

Which is why he lets his argument die. He tells himself to calm down and drop it before they really start arguing about it.

"Nothing," says Blaine quietly.

The awkwardness that descends upon them is quickly interrupted by a knock at the door.

"Excuse me?"

The Andersons all turn to look towards the doorway. There, Kurt stands with a bouquet of red and yellow roses, dressed in a waist coast and suit pants, a sympathetic expression on his face.

"I hope you don't mind," he says, addressing Mr and Mrs Anderson directly. "I heard the news. I came to see if Blaine's okay."

"Ah, so it's out already," says Senator Anderson, clasping his hands together. "Right. Well, Cecilia, I think we should leave these two boys to talk."

Mrs Anderson rolls her eyes, before bending down to give Blaine a kiss on the cheek.

"Are you going to be okay, honey?" she asks.

"I'll be fine, Mum," Blaine reassures her with a smile.

She looks at him, gaze flickering between both his eyes, before giving a nod and following her husband out. Kurt steps aside to let them past, before shutting the door behind them.

"I see you aren't dressed down today," observes Blaine, as Kurt sets the flowers on the bedside table.

"I figured that there'd be way too much press around this for it to even be worth trying to hide," says Kurt, turning to face Blaine. "And, you know ‘I have a reputation to live up to whether I like it or not'."

Blaine smiles as his own words are mockingly echoed back to him.

"That's okay, isn't it?" asks Kurt, suddenly worried. "I mean, I know the last time we talked we said our parents were okay with people finding out, but I never really asked you if you mind or not."

"No, that's fine," Blaine reassures him. "I don't care who knows. But honestly, I'm a little surprised your dad let you come."

"Ah, he may have ulterior motives behind that," admits Kurt sheepishly. "Not only does everyone already know you've been beaten up, they already know why. And Dad's always been heavy on emphasising nonviolence. Sorry, I know that probably makes you feel used, but I thought I'd come out and tell you straight up. And if it helps, he still is actually concerned about you; it's just that, y'know, he's got damage control to do as well."

 "That's fine," shrugs Blaine, and somehow he didn't doubt that Senator Hummel actually cared about him - unlike his own father with Kurt a little less than a week ago. "It's politics, I get it. Just as long as you came just for me."

"Whatever helps you take the pain away," Kurt shoots back, swinging his arms forward until his palms are leaning on the railings of the bed. "How much does it hurt?"

Kurt looks down at Blaine with so much concern that Blaine is actually momentarily overwhelmed. Having your mother look at you like that is one thing, but having someone you'd just met mere weeks ago look at you like that is something different altogether.

"It hurts a little," admits Blaine. "It's just a bit of bruising, though."

"It looks a lot worse than just a bit of bruising," says Kurt sympathetically. "I'm so glad you're okay. God, politics is just so messy sometimes."

"It's nothing really," says Blaine, just as he shifts in his bed to discover, by the pain the movement causes, that his torso is apparently bruised. He fights the urge to cringe. "And I'm sure you have better things to do than to hang around feeling sorry for me on your Friday night."

"Don't be silly," says Kurt.

But as if it's trying to prove him wrong, Kurt's phone beeps at that very moment. Shooting Blaine an apologetic look, Kurt retrieves it from his pocket.

"Text from someone special?" teases Blaine, as Kurt's lips momentarily twitch into a blink-and-you'll-miss-it smile.

"No, no one," says Kurt, but Blaine can't help but notice how flustered Kurt seems as he pockets his phone.

"So your phone just texts itself then?" asks Blaine with a smirk.

Kurt bites his lip, as if on the verge of confessing something, when-

"Hey Blaine! Your dad said you were awake and - oh!"

Jeff and Nick stop short, their widened eyes fixed on Kurt. Kurt gives them a slightly awkward smile, lips curling inwards as if he's uncertain of the new boys' reactions. Luckily for him, Nick's never one to forget his manners, stepping forward and extending an arm. Blaine knows it's silly, but he waits with bated breath. Because this is the moment that his two best friends meet someone who he hopes will become a very important friend to him.

"Nick Duval," says Nick.

"Kurt Hummel," says Kurt, taking Nick's hand in his without missing a beat. Blaine lets himself breathe again as Jeff, too, introduces himself

"So are you two friends of Blaine's or?" asks Kurt, leaning an arm back on the railing of Blaine's bed.

"Yep," says Nick confidently. "We're the ones who'll be making use of the huge flatscreen in the White House come next year."

Kurt laughs. His phone beeps again, and he checks it reflexively, the contents of the text eliciting an immediate smile.

"You know, not all of us have to spend our Friday nights in hospital," says Blaine.

"Yeah, we can take over babysitting Blainers if you want," says Nick cheerily.

Kurt twists his lips in contemplation. Blaine can tell that as much as Kurt feels that he should stay, he really wants to be somewhere else.

"I'm fine," says Blaine in response to Kurt's unasked question. "Besides, I heard they're getting me ready to be discharged anyway."

The lie comes out easily enough. Blaine's more than used to lying to make everyone else's lives easier. And besides, it's not like I'm dying or anything, thinks Blaine, remembering how his dad had brushed off his injuries so casually.

 Kurt bites his lip.

"Are you sure it doesn't hurt too much?" he asks, the concern returning to his eyes.

"Yes," says Blaine, "and even if it did, it's not like you could kiss it better or anything. Just go."

Kurt gives Blaine a small, almost pitying, smile.

 "Thanks, Blaine," says Kurt sincerely. "I'm so sorry again for what happened."

"Hey, it wasn't you," says Blaine firmly.

Kurt nods.

"I hope you feel better soon," he says. "Bye Nick, Jeff."

Nick and Jeff wave Kurt goodbye, before Nick rounds on Blaine

"What was he so excited about?" he demands.

"Who knows?" shrugs Blaine, but he can't help feel a growing sense of jealousy.

"It seemed to me like he had a date," offers Jeff, adding to Blaine's own suspicions.

"Maybe," says Blaine. But now that Kurt's out of the room, Blaine can look at Nick and Jeff properly, and he notices  a large, purple bruise  on Jeff's forearm, exposed only because his sleeves have been rolled up to the elbows. "Jeff!"

 "What?" asks Jeff, jumping slightly in surprise.

"Your arm," gasps Blaine. His eyes flicker over Nick too, and he finds a dark bruise on Nick's knuckles. "And Nick, you too? What happened?"

"What, you think we were just gonna let him beat the crap out of you?" asks Jeff. "No way, man."

"Shouldn't you guys get checked out or something?" asks Blaine in concern.

"Eh, they gave us a once over," says Nick offhandedly. "But check this out!"

Nick turns around so Blaine can see the back of his shirt. The entire back is covered in stains from grass and mud, something that could only have come from a hustle on the ground.

"Nick," says Blaine sympathetically.

"Don't look at me like that; Lil kind of loves it," says Nick proudly. "And the coaches came over to break up the fight before we could get too hurt. But you fully blacked out. I've never seen your dad so worried."

"Wait, was he really that worried?" asks Blaine. He had seen his dad relieved just before, sure, but he'd never been given any sign of just how worried he had been.

"Of course he was," says Jeff. "You were out cold for ages, man. They have you on concussion watch overnight."

Overnight. Oh, there's no way that Kurt isn't finding out about that.

"But you guys are okay?" asks Blaine, not allowing himself to think about that.

"Blaine, relax," says Jeff. "We wouldn't even be at the hospital if they didn't drag us along with you."

 "I can't believe you guys did that for me though," says Blaine, his voice filled with admiration. "I- I can depend on you two for anything, can't I?"

"Of course," says Nick, leaning forward with his forearms on the hospital bed railings. "I didn't even tell Lil that about you knowing Kurt, and you know how hard that must have been, right?"

"I do," says Blaine, for once empathetic about Nick's love for his girlfriend.

And in that moment, even though they're all battered and bruised, Blaine is more grateful for Nick and Jeff than he's ever been in all their years of friendship.