The months he'd spent working as a stripper in Kentucky had honed the previously nonexistent, suspicious part of Sam's nature. After a month, he could always tell which soccer mom was going to try to grab his ass and who was going to proposition him. He could even spot the occasional creeper who would hang out in the parking lot, waiting for the dancers to leave at the end of the night.

Sam didn't really like parking lots anymore. They made him nervous. He'd been lucky, that some of the other guys had told horror stories.

So, when Blaine hadn't entered the restaurant nearly five minutes after he had texted to say he'd just parked his car, Sam was worried. Sure, they weren't near a strip club in a seedy part of town, the restaurant was in Grove Hill, the nice town next to Lima, but he felt the need to go look for his boyfriend.

Normally they would have arrived together, Sam was driving back from visiting his family, so they were meeting up before heading back to Blaine's.

When he reached the parking lot, Sam heard sounds of a scuffle, heard young voices arguing and broke into a run. Rounding a van, he saw two large boys holding Blaine by the arms, another moving in to punch him in the stomach. Clearly, Blaine objected to this, as he lashed out, kicking his attacker hard and knocking him back. Unfortunately, another boy stepped in and landed a punch.

"Hey!" Sam shouted, rushing forward and grabbing the bastard that had hit Blaine by the back of the shirt and heaving him away. "What the fuck do you think you're doing?"

"Sam, watch him," Blaine warned, seeing the boy he kicked lumbering to his feet behind Sam.

Now that wasn't four on one, the two holding Blaine released him, circling around their buddies. Sam stepped quickly to Blaine side, keeping a wary eye on his attackers. "You okay?"

"Aw, worried about your little boyfriend?" One of the jocks taunted, cracking his knuckles and looking like he was ready to throw down.

Sam glared at him. "Yes! Your buddy just punched him in the stomach."

"Can't take a…."

"Wait, hold up." The guy Blaine had kicked, clearly the leader of these morons, was holding up a finger. "You…two are…together?"

What the actual fuck? "Yes," Blaine said, talking slowly like he thought these guys were a new and really dumb brand of stupid. "I kind of assumed that was the reason you decided to jump me."

"No!" The jock actually sounded offended and his lackies just looked confused. "You're jacket. McKinley football. We hate you guys…but this isn't a hate crime."

Blinking, Sam looked at Blaine, who was wearing Sam's letterman jacket. "You left it in my car," Blaine said with a small shrug. "I got cold."

"It looks good on you," Sam replied softly, before turning to glare at the guys from Grove Hill. "So you just randomly decided to try to beat the crap out of someone from McKinley?"

"Well, yeah, but…oh, fuck it." Taking a cue from their leader, the four boys took off.

"Huh," Blaine murmured, pressing a hand to his stomach. "You know, I think that's the first time being gay has prevented someone from trying to beat me up."

"You still took a hit," Sam said, moving in close and wrapping his arms around him. "You really okay?"

"Yeah, he hit like a five-year-old girl," Blaine replied that Sam could feel him smile against his shoulder. "It'll bruise, but nothing to worry about. Thanks for coming to find me."

"I always will," Sam murmured, dropping a kiss into his boyfriend's hair, ignoring the chemical raspberry taste of the gel.

"Let's go grab some dinner, Prince Charming."