A/N: I haven't uploaded anything in ages so I'm going to be posting a lot over the next week or so to get everything I've written posted. Some of the things I'll be uploading will be months old (i.e. I wrote this particular fic three months ago), but hey ho.

Rating: PG-13
Warning: Violence
Word Count: 1500+
Characters: Blaine Anderson, ft. Jeff Sterling and the Warblers.

Summary: Each blow to Jeff's body is one more bully on the ground, one more night when Blaine's father won't shove religion at him, one step closer to peace. And then Blaine breaks one of his very own rules, a rule that's been in place since day one of the Dalton Fight Club.

Blaine always looks forward to Fight Club. He looks forward to just letting all his frustration out on someone else at the end of another stressful week. It surprises him daily how everyone at Dalton seems to respect him mindlessly, even after pummeling the shit out of them every Friday, but he's not complaining. No one ever questions how wild he gets, no one ever approaches him about it, and he's thankful that they're sticking to the rules because he really doesn't want to explain himself.

This week has been particularly tough on Blaine, in fact it's been hell, and his fists have been itching for a fight. As he enters the classroom they use as a meeting ground, the desks and chairs have already been pushed aside and there are half a dozen boys already sitting around the room, talking, laughing. The calm before the storm. They're all familiar faces and they greet Blaine with courteous nods of their heads as he walks past.

He drops his bag to the ground and shucks his blazer off his shoulders, before pulling the tie from around his neck and kicking his shoes off. Just as Blaine starts to roll his sleeves up to his elbows, the door opens and there's a round of cheers. Turning, he sees Nick — a regular sparring partner of Blaine's — guiding a new member into the room. He's the same height as Nick, with a head of platinum blond hair and a killer smile. He knows this boy, he's one of the Warblers. Jeff, Blaine thinks idly.

"You interested in joining?" he asks gruffly as he slides a pair of protective gloves over his hands. He flexes his fingers by his sides and Jeff nods.

"Yeah, yeah — Nick wants me to, he thinks I'll enjoy it."

The boys all look at Nick with narrowed eyes, and Jeff realises that he's said the wrong thing. Blaine raises an accusatory finger at Nick.

"You're fighting today," he says, like it's some kind of punishment. Then he turns to Jeff. "You — blazer, shoes and tie off. Empty your pockets. Then we'll go over the rules."

Jeff does as he's told, Nick follows suit, and Blaine checks his phone while he waits. Three missed calls and a text from his dad. Fuck you, he thinks angrily, tossing the phone down on top of his blazer. Jeff is still tugging on the laces of his shoes so Blaine approaches the blackboard and scrawls Fight Club in a large font.

When he turns around again, the boys are ready, and all of the previously missing members have arrived. In his head, he does a quick register check. Everyone's here.

"Rule one of fight club," Blaine begins loudly, his voice immediately silencing his classmates. "You don't talk about fight club. What happens in this room stays in this room and you don't discuss it with anyone; not your club mates, not other students, not your friend on the other side of the world. No one."

Jeff looks over at Nick as realisation sinks in. He mouths 'Sorry' to Nick, who dismisses it with a wave of his hand. Blaine flexes his fingers in and out of fists again. He really just wants to get on with the fighting, but he's not letting a newbie come in without knowing how things work.

"Two, respect the safe word. Your partner says the safe word, you back off."

"What's the safe word?"

"Dalton," a few of the boys say simultaneously. Jeff nods, and Blaine can practically hear his thoughts. Easy enough to remember. That's what everyone thinks. That's why it's their safe word.

"Rule three, anything goes as long as it's hand-to-hand combat under the neck. Rule four is simple enough," Blaine continues, and his knuckles crack as he uncurls his fists again. "Only two guys to a fight, only one fight at a time. Stops things from getting messy. Five, you can only interfere if someone breaks a rule. Otherwise, you sit on the sidelines and you watch."

Jeff nods thoughtfully and Blaine takes a moment to take in his physique. He doesn't look particularly strong or muscular, but Blaine knows from experience that looks mean nothing. People always underestimate his strength because he's shorter than most people, but he could take down anyone in this room if he sets his mind to it. Maybe Jeff will surprise him, but he seems too happy and carefree to be packing a killer punch in him. Fighting is all about anger.

"Rule six," Blaine starts again, not letting himself pause for a noticeable length of time. "No shoes, no blazers, no ties, and empty pockets are mandatory at each meeting, whether you end up fighting or not. You can wear protective gloves if you want." Blaine turns his palms upwards to show the fingerless gloves on his hands. "It's advised that you don't wear your uniform shirt in case things get bloody, but that's up to you."

Jeff's eyebrows raise slightly in surprise at the mention of the word bloody and Blaine can't fight back a smirk. This guy will be out of the club within a fortnight.

"The seventh and final rule: all new members have to fight." Blaine's knuckles crack again. "And today, Jeff, you're going to be fighting me."

Jeff doesn't look too bothered by this, underestimating him just like everyone else. It only sparks more rage inside of Blaine and he's discarding his school shirt within a matter of seconds. The dark blue vest does nothing to fight off the chill in the room, but his heart is already pounding and he knows he won't feel the cold for long.

Jeff has taken his shirt off too, leaving his chest bare, and Blaine's relieved to see that Jeff definitely lacks in the muscle department. Blaine's not exactly the most muscular person either, but Jeff is downright scrawny.

One of the guys counts them in and they start off slow, just a punch here or there as they try to calculate each other's tactics, but Blaine wants to fight goddamn it so he lunges himself at Jeff with his fist raised. Jeff strikes him in the gut before Blaine can attack him, and he's definitely not as strong as a lot of the guys Blaine has fought but it's enough to knock the air out of him.

He recovers quickly and throws a punch at Jeff's shoulder, making him stumble back slightly at the force. From there on, it's a blur of fists and shoves. Jeff's a better competitor than Blaine thought he'd be but he has a lot of training to do if he ever wants to beat anyone in this room.

Blaine usually goes easy on the newbies, letting them think they're beating Blaine for a few minutes before knocking their confidence down and showing them just how much control he has on the outcome of a match. He wins more often than not, but the guys still leave with a sense of pride. Today, though, there's too much tension and frustration in Blaine's system and he's done with playing nice. He fights Jeff with as much strength as he can muster, letting out angry grunts every time his fist makes contact with Jeff's body.

Each swing at Jeff is a swing at the bullies, at his father, at everyone who had ever wronged him. Each blow to Jeff's body is one more bully on the ground, one more night when Blaine's father won't shove religion at him, one step closer to peace. He's bombarded with memories that only spur him on further. The night of the Sadie Hawkins dance, his father's pathetic bible bashing, the bully that took all of Blaine's dignity without a single regret.

Jeff loses his balance and falls backwards, and Blaine's on top of him in an instant, sitting on his stomach as he hurls punches to his chest. Jeff tries to fight back, tries to get Blaine off of him, but the position makes it difficult to do much more than block Blaine's advances. Blaine's so fucking angry and caught up in his thoughts that he's barely even paying attention to what he's doing.

And then Blaine breaks one of his very own rules, a rule that's been in place since day one of the Dalton Fight Club. He raises his fist and slams it straight into Jeff's face. Jeff cries out in pain as his head makes contact with the floor and blood begins to gush from his nose, and Blaine's raising his fist to strike again when the guys quickly move in on him.

They grab him by the arms, by the waist, maybe four or five of them working together. Blaine's too worked up to count. They pull him off of Jeff, tug him away, and Blaine fights against the restraints but there's too many of them. It reminds him of the bullies that would pin him down against the school fence, and another surge of anger courses through him. Others go to Jeff's side, offering tissues and sharing worried glances as they ease him into a sitting position.

"Blaine, what is wrong with you today?" Trent demands from behind him, the fear evident in his voice.

"Forget it," Blaine snaps.

He shakes their hands off of him and snatches his stuff from the floor. Just as he grabs his phone, it vibrates with another incoming call from his father. Without a second thought, he throws it at the wall and storms out as it shatters into pieces.

FIN.
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