The roar of the crowd was intense.

Blaine was used to watching football games at home. His dad's friends would go over and they'd watch the game together on the big screen, occasionally snacking and occasionally raising their voices. This? This was pandemonium. While Kurt's cheering remained reigned in, he was half certain Carole would end up rupturing something from the pitch of her voice... Most likely his eardrums.

Laughing, he covered his ears with his palms, watching out of the barest slits of his eyes from the width of his smile as the football team celebrated in the middle of the field. Everyone - including himself - was jumping up and down, shouting at the top of their lungs. He could've sworn he felt a few tears flung at him from the people on the bleacher above his, too. No way was it raining.

He couldn't stop himself from grinning. After spending most of the first half texting back and forth with Dave, phone angled slightly away from his friend, he watched him put on his jersey and run out into the field to perform with the Glee club. And while he'd done some rather amazing things in his life, he'd never felt so proud.

During downtime, Kurt questioned him, asking him why he was so busy texting. "You're the football fan, Blaine, and I'm paying more attention to the game than you are."

He shrugged off the question with a smile and a little laugh; now Kurt didn't care enough to bother inquiring farther. As everyone began filing down onto the football field to congratulate the team, Blaine caught sight of Dave just as he felt a little tug on his sleeve from Kurt, who was leaving with his step-mother to go down to congratulate Finn.

"You know," Blaine said, cheeks flushed from the chill in the air, "I think I'm gonna hang back. Tell Finn great game, though!"

When Carole and Kurt disappeared into the rest of the crowd, he tugged his jacket tighter around himself and hurried down the stairs, twisting his shoulders to slide between the people standing between him and Dave. He'd tried to school his expression into something less... rabidly happy, but ultimately failed, a cheeky grin spreading over his lips as he moved over to him, hands dug into his pockets.
He was practically surrounded by people clapping him on the back or shaking his hand, congratulating him on a job well done and telling him that they hadn't expected to see him out in the field for the performance. The latter somehow made Blaine smile even wider.

"Well, hey there, MVP," he laughed, stepping up to Dave's side, voice raised high enough for him to hear him over everyone else.

With the adrenaline coursing through his veins, nevermind the intense happiness, David just ended up immediately wrapping his arms around his friend's shoulders, crushing him to his pads with a laugh. For the first time in his life, he couldn't have cared less about what people might've thought about him hugging another dude like that. Everyone was too happy, too busy hugging each other to care.

"Hey!" Letting out a bout of boisterous laughter, Dave gripped onto Blaine's biceps as he pulled away from the hug. "You need to get your eyes checked, Anderson, but it's good to see you." Somehow, he managed to grin even more, cheeks still flushed from exertion and excitement. "Surprised you didn't get mowed down; not surprised you're tougher than you look."

Blaine couldn't help but snort back a laugh at his comment. "Yeah, five feet, nine inches of steel," he said, flexing his excuse for muscle beneath his many layers. "I feel bad for that guy I elbowed on accident going down the stairs. That had to hurt."

Rolling up onto the balls of his feet, he glanced around, looking for any familiar faces. He'd seen Rachel and Mercedes out in their football uniforms and then in costume, but other than that, he only other familiar face was Dave's. Not that he minded at all. "So!" Turning back towards him with the same smile. "I haven't seen a game like that since... uh, well, ever, to be honest." His grin turned into something smaller as he nudged him in the stomach with a gentle prod of his elbow. "Did you get my text I sent you after halftime?"

His smile died down a little, brow furrowing. "Crap; I didn't get a chance to look at my phone," Dave admitted, looking genuinely sad. "I had, like, five minutes to get my gear on. It's gonna take a fucking crowbar to get me out of this I was in such a rush."

"It'll be the first thing I look at when I get back to the locker room." A small, affectionate smile quirked the corner of his mouth.

"Hey, no big deal. Just a little something I had to say," Blaine replied with a definite air of mystery, unable to keep from grinning just after the words left him. He looked in the direction of the rest of the football team. They were slowly starting to make their way back to the locker room to get changed, no doubt to head off to some party or another. "Looks like they're all heading in that direction right now."

His fingers twitched in his pockets. He wanted to give Dave another hug. After spending the first half of the game trying to psyche him up to get him to persuade the guys to give the performance a chance, he'd expected to not get anywhere with him. He still didn't believe that it was by his encouragement alone that Dave got out there, but he had something to do with it. He knew that much. "I'll wait around right here," he smiled, tilting his head in the direction of the locker room, "Be careful with the crowbar."

"No." Dave's eyes nearly doubled in size. "Uh. I mean... I'd rather... wait, you know. They're all gonna get drunk and..." He rubbed the back of his neck with his free hand, grimacing a little. "Annnnd I really like getting drunk off my ass, but, uh." He chuckled, shrugging a little. Truth was, he wanted to spend time with Blaine. The football team had a lot more practices than usual due to the championship game; they hadn't really had the chance to meet up in the past couple weeks.

"I dunno," he murmured, a bit bashful in his mannerisms before finally locking eyes with him. "I just really don't wanna deal with the Cheerios being drunk and us having won the game. Santana was lookin' at me like that, and, well, I'd really rather not go through that." A bit of nervous laughter bubbled up from his throat. "Again."

Blaine made a face, as if to say, 'Ah, I gotcha.' "You can hardly blame her. Even if Finn is the quarterback, girls tend to go for the strongest in the pack," he said, eyebrows arching high on his forehead despite his tone remaining casual, as if he talked about this sort of thing every day. "And you look like you hit like a damn truck. I was cringing in the stands."

Glancing over his shoulder and away from the crowd, his eyes zoned in on the chain link fence that was clearly meant to be a barricade between everyone and the underside of the bleachers. It was quieter, and it'd give them a little time to actually talk before he had to head home.

"It's loud over here," Blaine told him as he turned back around, a little smile on his lips, hoping he'd catch the hint.

There was a little voice in Dave's head (the one that used to be really loud and obnoxious) telling him he should have been embarrassed how he nearly tripped over himself to follow Blaine, a light pink tinging his pink that had nothing to do with the game ending not ten minutes ago or even bashfulness.

Strongest in the pack, huh? While it was almost unbearably macho part of him that raised a brow to the term, it was the other part of him that twisted his insides, and the fluttery feeling only intensified when they got to the bleachers. Alone.

David cleared his throat, letting out a shaky breath, attempting to play off the sudden wave of nerves. "I was going for 'hitting like a train,' he murmured when they got away from the noise of the crowd. "Guess I still have some work to do." He managed a quirk of a smile, dropping his helmet to the ground and leaning his back against one of the metal beams that held up the bleachers, arms crossed over his stomach.

"'Hitting like a train' does sound better," Blaine said, hopping up onto the cement block that held the metal beam in place. It boosted him up to David's height, which earned the right guard a cheeky grin. "And more accurate, actually, but I've never been hit by a train."

He held onto the beam as he put one foot in front of the other, moving around the cement square until he was standing on the opposite side of Dave, "Never been hit by a truck, either, actually."

Stepping down, he walked around in front of him only to hop up where he'd started. He got like this whenever he was nervous. He either walked around or ran. At home, he'd be on the treadmill. Or, if it was still light out, on the street. But now, with Dave there to talk to, he had no other choice but to take it slow, even if he did just look like he had a bad case of ADD.

Dave watched him with no small amount of amusement. He didn't really notice the wide grin on his face as he watched his friend weave around the through the beams. Tilting his head to the side, he crossed an ankle over the other, chuckling to himself.

"I could always tackle you," he replied. "But I just started really liking you." There was a long, awkward pause. Dave looked at Blaine, Blaine stopped mid-step and looked at Dave. "Ah... I just..." Fuck. Come on, Karofsky. You just danced like a Goddamn lunatic in front of half the student body; you can play this off. "I mean, it would suck if you got hurt."

God, I can't take you anywhere.

"You wouldn't hurt me," Blaine said with a little smile before ducking his head, hopping down from the cement block and moving over to the one Dave was leaning against. He liked to think that that was the truth. After spending so much time talking or visiting each other during the Christmas break, he actually believed that he wouldn't. There'd been a time when he wasn't so sure about that, even recently, but he'd gotten over that.

Stepping up beside Dave, he leaned against the beam, crossing his arms over his chest just as he was. "Though I can't say being tackled by you is in the forefront of 'things I want to happen.' It's somewhere near the back." Just as the words left his lips, he arched a brow at himself, staring straight ahead and giving a quiet, almost disbelieving laugh.

David just blinked at him, color draining from his face, then slowly filling his cheeks back up again. "Oh," he murmured dumbly, chewing on his bottom lip. When did he get so close? And when'd it get so hot? He was pretty sure it was a toasty twenty degrees or so; so why did it feel like he had hot coals where his ears should be?

His gaze dropped from Blaine's eyes to his mouth, his tongue darting out to wet his own lips before he realized what he was doing. Clearing his throat, he attempted to chuckle, but it sounded more like a giggle. "I – uh. Yeah. That's... uh..." His head just bobbed awkwardly. He had absolutely no idea what to say, or how to not be a complete idiot.

Swallowing thickly, he looked at Blaine through his eyelashes, rubbing the back of his neck. "It's true. I-I mean, uh, what you said. About not hurting you – I wouldn't."

"Hey," Blaine murmured, his own eyes straying overlong on Dave's lips - through no fault of his own, as he'd just licked them. (Where else was he supposed to look?) "I know. That's why I said it." Smiling mostly to himself, he leaned his head against the beam, reaching out to nudge his forearm with the backs of his fingers.

Giving a little cough into his fist, he tugged at his jacket and fidgeted with his scarf, unable to keep from grinning to himself. He couldn't believe this was happening.

It didn't take a lot to get his stomach filled with butterflies, really. He wasn't the most fickle teenager on the face of the Earth, but he really was won over easily. In fact, he was won over so easily that he surprised himself in not realizing that little hopeful feeling that rose in his chest when Dave looked at him for any longer than a passing glance until now. After months of texting and visits, learning so much about him, and finding out that there wasn't anything evil or cruel about him. He'd just been scared.

"So... have any plans? I assume you're not going out with the guys, since you're standing out here with me," he said with a little lopsided smile.

"Yeah, no," he replied with a little grin, taking a few steps over, past Blaine, only to turn around, a hand grasping on one of the lower beams. He hadn't actually meant to get closer to him (well, maybe that was a lie) but he ended up doing so, able to look right into his eyes thanks to him climbing around on the bleachers.

He wasn't really a fan of biology, but Dave was pretty sure his heart didn't belong in his throat.

Passing his tongue over his bottom lip, he sucked on it for a long moment, wheels in his head turning. He didn't have any plans. He was just going to crash for the night, and crash hard, but maybe...

"You – uh -" he stammered, flushing almost as red as his uniform. David laughed quietly, tilting his chin down, but still keeping his eyes on Blaine's face. "I mean... it's... really dark. And I heard it might snow tonight. You- you could... uh, crash at my place. We could... watch a movie or somethin'." Sucking on his teeth, he rubbed his sweaty palm over his uniform trousers. "Hell, just sleeping with you sounds more fun than that stupid party."

When his words registered, his eyes bulged nearly out their sockets. "That... sounded a lot less perverted in my head."

Eyes widening a little, Blaine cleared his throat, flushing all the way up to his ears. "It's okay. I know you didn't mean it like that." He looked up at him, brow quirked despite his sudden urge to furrow down into his scarf and never leave. Ever.

"I'd like that, though," he continued, stopping just after to amend his statement, "Crashing at your place, I mean. I'm not really a big fan of driving in the dark, much less in potential snow. So... thanks for the offer."

A smile was making its way back onto his face when he heard a sharp, "Hey!" from behind Dave. Leaning to the side to make sure the face matched the voice, he could feel his heart fall. Right past his ribcage, his stomach, all the way to his feet. Kurt's features were skewed slightly in a mixture of concern and bravado as he hurried over, having recognized the number on Dave's jersey. "What are you doing?"

Oh, God, what's going to happen? There's no way he's got this right. There's no way he could know.

This was a conclusion he'd never in a thousand years jump to, that was for sure.

Blaine opened his mouth to respond only to be interrupted by his stepping up right behind Dave, hands on his hips. "What? You didn't get your fill of chest pounding during the game?"

David immediately felt his back stiffen, eyes going wide and watery, pleading Blaine for help before twisting around to face Kurt, backing away, with his hands held up in what he hoped was a placating gesture.

"I...I wasn't-" Even if his throat hadn't tightened up on him, he wouldn't have had the chance to finish his sentence anyway.

Kurt wasted no time stepping between Blaine and David, tilting his chin up and taking a protective stance – or at least as protective as someone of his stature could manage versus a man who was easily half a foot taller and weighed 75% more on top of that. "You weren't what, Karofsky?" Kurt pressed, eyes narrowing. "You weren't... planning to wrap his neck around the beam? Weren't going to kiss rape him?" He huffed, lip curling in a little sneer. "Pick up your knuckles and never come near him again."

"Kurt -"

Kurt's hand lifted in a dismissive gesture. "Yes, I know. You can handle yourself." He looked at him over his shoulder, brows cinching upwards in an empathetic expression. If Blaine didn't know better, he'd believe that face. He'd never seen such a genuine worried look on anyone before in his entire life. "But you really don't know what you're dealing with here."

"Who," Blaine protested, stepping down from the beam. He looked to Dave, and his face creased a little when he saw how overwhelmed he looked. "Who I'm dealing with. And, yes, I can handle myself."

"Oh, haha, no. Definitely what."

He could almost feel the acidic look Kurt rolled in Dave's direction a moment later. How had he gone from that scared little boy to someone who was so in control of himself that he could do this in mere months? Had he really inspired this much confidence in him? It was astounding. And it hurt. "Look, Karofsky, I'm going to put it into little words for you to understand," he went on, taking a step back, closer to Blaine, "You go back to your little football friends, smack them on the ass and tell them a good job and pretend it's not because you actually want to cop a feel. Leave Blaine alone."

There was an anger that he hadn't felt since he'd started noticing his urges. Dave's entire body was shaking. He had tried so hard to be a better person. It wasn't like he hadn't thought about apologizing to Kurt – he wanted to, so badly – but he just wasn't ready. And now he didn't have a choice. He was backed into a corner.

The muscles of his jaw flexed as he ground his teeth, brow wrinkling deeply just about his nose. "I was just- just talking to him, Hummel," he near-growled. He could feel that defensive part of him flaring up. "Quit putting your nose where it doesn't belong; I didn't do shit to him, and I wasn't gonna."

"Oh, please," Kurt scoffed, looking thoroughly disgusted. "Is that what you tell yourself at night? How many other boys have you not done shit to, hmm?" Rolling his eyes, he tilted his chin up, that air of confidence that was so unique to him just rolling off him in waves, reminding David of everything he couldn't be. "You're going to leave. Now. You aren't going to do to him what you did to me."

David grit his teeth, eyes clenching shut as he fought back the boiling rage in his chest, fists clenching so tight he could feel blood. He opened his eyes, looking past Kurt to lock eyes with Blaine. "I- What I did-" He cut himself off, and shook his head. "Fine. Whatever," he murmured, shoulders slumping in defeat, picking up his helmet and walking off without a second glance or either man. There was just no way to find the words.

They both watched as Dave turned around and left. Kurt stood in proud silence, while Blaine was nothing less than flabbergasted. He couldn't believe what had just happened right in front of his eyes.

For months now, he'd kept his friendship with Dave a secret, but he'd also kept Kurt company on a daily basis. They'd grown close, and Blaine already considered him one of his best friends. Anyone who knew Kurt knew that he was - at times - difficult to get along with. But Blaine looked past all of that for the sake of being friendly and keeping ties that meant a lot to him tight.

As expertly knotted together as they were through music and the bond of their shared orientation and similar history, he didn't much care for Kurt taking a pair of figurative scissors to his relationship with Dave. Or trying to, at least.

"... what was that?" he found himself asking, striding forward and turning on his heel so he was looking right at him. "I was talking to him. That's it."

Kurt sniffed. "I'm sure you remember what happened the last time I talked to him alone."

"Yelled," Blaine corrected, his hands finding his pockets again, shoulders caving slightly. "You told me you yelled at him. Probably something like what happened just now." When Kurt's expression turned towards the confused as opposed to the self-righteous, he continued. "I was okay. Nothing was going to happen."

His friend narrowed his eyes at him in almost amused disbelief. "Blaine. You can't be that naive."

"What are you talking about?"

"You really are too nice sometimes," Kurt said with a laugh, curling an arm casually around his shoulder and guiding him in the direction of the gate. "You should get that looked at. Normal human beings usually have flaws, like a short attention span or being inherently bitchy." Smiling to himself, he waved at someone Blaine didn't know before turning his attention right back to him. "My dad's taking us all for frozen yoghurt. It's pretty late, so I insisted he let me offer you the couch."

Blaine rolled his shoulders when they reached the gate, shrugging off his arm with an apologetic smile. "I really should be going home." When Kurt looked at him curiously, he chuckled. "Homework."

Sighing heavily, his friend nodded. "Very well. Be careful. I'll see you on Monday?"

"See you on Monday," Blaine replied with a pathetic little half-wave before hurrying off in the direction of his car.


David was quiet as he walked to the locker room. Everyone was gone now. There was all sorts of silly string and confetti on the floor – apparently they had prepared to win – and given what had just happened, he was suddenly regretting staying with Blaine. That bothered him more than anything. A few biting words from Kurt were enough to destroy what happiness and confidence he had found through joining the halftime show, winning the game, and actually flirting with Blaine. Harmlessly, and rom com levels of painful ineptitude, but flirting nonetheless. Maybe.

Sighing, he worked his jersey off, stuffing it in his locker, working his pads off next and setting them on the floor before attending to the rest of his clothing, changing back into his jeans, t-shirt and letterman's jacket. He put the pads with the rest of the equipment, then went back to his gym bag, patting the pockets until he found his phone.

His intentions were to tell Blaine to go stay at Kurt's – after all, he didn't want him driving in the potential snow if it could be avoided. Dave didn't want to cause any rifts between them; Blaine rarely brought him up, but he could tell that they were close friends, and Blaine... he was good for people, no matter who they were. Kurt was plenty confident before he started terrorizing him, but the kid had jumped to all new levels from what he saw, and he knew that was because Blaine was helping him come into his own.

Whatever intentions he had, though, were shot to hell when he saw he had a message. From Blaine. He had forgotten that he said he had texted him after the halftime show. He knew he should have just deleted it. Whatever it was, was going to be utterly Blaine. It'd be inspiring and make him feel warm and fuzzy and appreciated in that way only he seemed to be able to and then he'd be doomed. Again. He should have just cut ties. Let Kurt have Blaine – he deserved that friendship, or whatever, a lot more than he did, especially after all the bullying he had to put up with.

Somehow, while he was trying to convince himself not to open the text, he ended up doing just that.

You were amazing out there, Dave.

He read over the message... God, he lost count of how many times. He just stood there in the locker room, with a stupid, affectionate grin on his face, eyes nearly glittering. He didn't know how, but the text seemed to drip with sincerity. He could hear him saying it, see the pride in his eyes, and the little quirk of his mouth.

Nodding to himself, he slipped his phone into his back pocket and hefted his bag over his shoulder. He was still hurting, still feeling like he deserved every word that came out of Kurt's mouth, but Blaine always knew just want to say to get that to go away, at least for a little while.

Jogging out toward the parking lot, the little smile on his face refused to recede.

He had a sleepover to attend.