Blaine had only been at Dalton a few weeks the first time it happened. It was an accident, really, one boy wanted Blaine to teach him how to fight, another found out, word spread quickly and before anyone really knew what was happening there were 12 guys gathered, after hours, in the school gym. Blaine looked around, sizing up each of the others, and realizing just how he was going to teach all of them to box.
"Welcome, boys, to the first meeting of the Dalton Academy Fight Club."
There was a shiver of nervous energy that ran through the group and Blaine smirked, liking the idea more and more by the moment.
"First, the rules. Rule one, no one talks about the fight club. Dalton has a zero tolerance policy and we'd all be expelled. This doesn't leave the room. Rule two, try to avoid the face. We can't be walking the halls of Dalton Academy with black eyes and busted lips; there would be too many questions, not to mention the fact that it would severely damage our pristine appearance. Those of us in the Warblers cannot afford to look anything less than perfect during competition season."
The gathered students nodded and voiced their agreement; hanging on to Blaine's every word. Blaine smirked, liking the feeling of control, the power of being a willing participant in a fight for once, the knowledge that he could take any of these guys, let out his hurt and his pain and his anger and just go wild.
"Nick, since you're the one who wanted the lessons, you first." Nick's eyes widened slightly, as if the realization of what he'd gotten himself in to was finally hitting him. He swallowed hard, nodded sharply, and stepped forward. He and Blaine stood, facing each other, in their gym clothes, the words "PROPERTY OF DALTON ACADEMY" stamped across their chests and down one side of their shorts.
And just like that, they were fighting. Blaine landed the first punch, square in Nick's gut, knocking the wind out of him, but Nick wasn't stopped for long. After the initial shock he lunged at Blaine and it was on.
The others hooted and hollered, cheering on Blaine or Nick or both or neither. Blaine and Nick were tangled to the point where it was hard to tell who was really winning this fight, which fist belonged to which boy, where one dull grey uniform t-shirt ended and the other began. Blaine, for his part, let it all out. Fighting a punching bag was one thing, but fighting another person was a completely different experience. He'd been in fights before but this was different. Well, no, he'd had the shit beaten out of him before, but this time he was holding his own. As each blow landed he felt the fear, the anger, the torment of the past few months seeping out, dissipating into nothingness. He imagined each of the boys who used to beat him up, saw their faces where Nick's should be, heard their taunts.
20 minutes later, both boys beaten, bloodied, and bruised but not all together damaged, the fight was called. They had, miraculously, managed to deliver minimal damage to the other's face and they stood, panting, completely worn out, wiping the sweat from their brows. Blaine nodded to Nick, Nick nodded back, and they shook.
"All right, boys, who's next?"