Blaine had been the cause of the tension between him and his dad all last week, Burt had been on and on at him about his grades and his future.
And then on Saturday after a long week, Puck got himself arrested for trying to break into an ATM, the idiot, and now it was Monday. Quinn was back hiding under the bleachers with the rest of her skanks, and Santana had been called in for an emergency cheerios practice by Sue. Kurt was alone, and he hated being alone.
Because of his badass reputation, and cold exterior, he had a lot of enemies at school. Puck, Quinn and Santana had been like a barrier of defense against them, and now that his wall was taken away, he was a target.
The jocks never found him that intimidating on his own, and somehow the word had spread about Puck, and by lunch time he found the jocks all eyeing him with sneers and glares from across the cafeteria.
He knew it spelled trouble.
He decided after lunch that he might go and join Quinn and the Skanks under the bleachers until the end of school, so that maybe by some stroke of luck he would avoid being accosted by the brutes of McKinley.
But luck was not on his side today.
"Hey Hummel, where's your guard dog?" Came a voice from behind him as he neared the fence that backed onto the football field.
'Shit.' He thought as he spun around to face 5 football jocks, all twice his size and at least an inch taller, sneering at him.
The leader, Karofsky, glared at him as they surrounded him.
"I cannot deal with your shit today, you fucking Neanderthal thug." Kurt bit out, trying to keep the cold intimidating voice that he used when he was with Puck, but the jock just laughed at him.
"You think you're so badass Hummel," Karofsky said with a dangerous looking smirk on his face as he stepped closer, forcing Kurt to step back against the fence, "but you're nothing without your muscle."
Kurt glared around at the jocks as they surrounded him, crowding him in against the fence and he grit his teeth.
"You and your friends lay a hand on me, Karofsky, and I'll make sure you pay!" He bit out, failing to intimidate Karofsky and his thug friends as they all just laughed and stepped even closer to him.
"We'll see who pays." Karofsky said menacingly as he threw the first punch.
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Blaine was late for his boxing lesson, Sam couldn't go with him today, he was supposed to look after his little siblings after school until his mom got back from work.
After gym class, Blaine hurried to shower and dress in his sweats, before running out the back entrance and across the football field, tripping over his own feet in his hurry.
As he neared the fence to the car park in the front of the school he heard yells and thuds and angry growls. He walked around the corner of the building to see the jocks beating up someone on the ground.
Blaine squinted his eyes to see a bit more clearly against the bright sun out today, and then he saw the leather jacket and the black skinny jeans with a chain in one pocket and he knew it was Kurt.
He gasped as he rounded the fence as fast as he could before running in their direction, even though he would probably not be thanked for saving Hummel's ass, he couldn't stand to see anyone get beat unfairly like 5 to 1.
"Hey!" Blaine yelled as he sprinted over to the huddle, dropping his gym bag and school bag on the ground, "Hey! What the fuck do you think you're doing?!"
He managed to push through most of them, and stood over Kurt protectively while shoving Karofsky back a few steps.
The jocks all looked around at each other laughing and joking around, sneering at Blaine as Karofsky laughed out loud.
"Oh hey look another fairy worker protecting the queen!" He said as he gestured towards where Kurt was getting up from the ground.
Blaine glared and his muscles tensed in preparation, as Kurt stood up beside him, with a split lip and a bloody nose, an equal glare present on his face.
"Karofsky, I'm warning you...walk away now." Blaine said in a last attempt at diffusing the jocks, his voice calm, collected and low.
The jocks all laughed out loud at that, and some put up their hands in mock fright at his words, making 'oooh' noises as Karofsky continued to sneer at them both.
"No fucking way Blanderson," Karofsky said in a mocking voice, "now there's two of you that we need to beat on."
"Dave...I really wouldn't-" Blaine started to say, but Karofsky's face dropped and he swung his fist at Blaine's face.
Blaine dropped into his defensive stance and brought both fists up and in close to his face, only just dodging the blow aimed at his jaw, and throwing a fist out and landing one himself.
Karofsky spun on his way to the ground, and bit out a yelp in surprise as he landed with a thud on his side...then everything turned to hell.
"Beat their faggot asses!" Karofsky yelled out to his teammates as he tried to get up quickly.
Blaine and Kurt were quicker this time, Blaine struck out with a left hook as Kurt landed a solid kick to one guys chest, they looked at each other with surprise for a second, before Kurt received another blow to his stomach that had him double over with a grunt.
Blaine went into his fighting offensive mode after that. Solid punches landed on squared jaws, black eyes and bloody noses dished out 4 ways, he dodged blow after blow aimed at him, and managed to knock at least 3 different guys on their asses.
Kurt wasn't faring as well, the beating from before Blaine arrived pained him and he found himself again being kicked around the floor like a fucking football.
Seeing an opportunity when Karofsky's attention was on Blaine, after a particularly loud crack and a yell of pain was heard from one of the jocks, Kurt grabbed his ankle and pulled it out from underneath the big jock.
Karofsky rolled to the floor and Kurt jumped on him, fists flying at the jock's face as he straddled his hips, growling in pain and anger.
It was only Blaine grabbing him around the waist and hauling him up and off of Karofsky that put a stop to Kurt pummeling the big prick.
"Come on, Kurt, let's get out of here." Blaine said as he half carried half dragged Kurt through the parking lot, picking up both of his bags on the way and pushing Kurt into his car.
Karofsky was just getting up as Blaine's car peeled out of the parking lot and dashed onto the road.
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Kurt stared out of the window, one arm wrapped around his sore chest as he panted, the anger slowly melting away as he sat in the seat.
"Where the hell did you learn to fight like that?" Kurt's sudden question made Blaine jump, the quiet inside the car amplifying his voice, and Blaine looked over to him quickly before looking back at the road, but Kurt wasn't even looking at him.
"4 years of Boxing lessons and self-defense classes." Blaine replied with a shrug, and he saw Kurt turn to look at him from the corner of his eye, before Kurt hissed and squirmed a little in the seat.
"Fuck...Karofsky really did a number on my ribs...shit." Kurt exclaimed quietly as he tried to move into a position that didn't hurt him to breathe in, but failing that he just groaned out in pain.
"Do you need me to drive you to the hospital?" Blaine asked and Kurt turned an icy stare on him.
"No...I do not need my father knowing about this, just take me home."
"But...your ribs-"
"Will be fine." Kurt interrupted and Blaine sighed.
"At least let me wrap them for you, I have bandages at home." Blaine told him and Kurt hissed again as he shifted in his seat.
"No." He said in a flat tone and Blaine shook his head in exasperation.
"Your dad will notice you're in a lot of pain if you don't wrap them...trust me, it relieves pressure."
It was quiet for a few seconds after that and Blaine chanced a look at Kurt, who was looking back out of the window, his back tense, obviously in pain, arms wrapped protectively around himself.
"...ok." Came a quiet reply, and Blaine smiled slightly in triumph.
"Ok."
When Blaine pulled up to his house, he got out of the car and quickly ran around to the passenger door to try and help Kurt out, but Kurt stuck an arm out and pushed Blaine back away from him, and hissed and grunted as he pulled himself from the car. Blaine watching him with an aggravated look, but Kurt glared back at him as he followed him inside.
Kurt probably didn't want to stick around Blaine's house for long, so Blaine led the way up to his room, which had it's own adjoining bathroom, and he made Kurt sit on the toilet seat while he got out the bandages and tape and pins. Kurt sat watching him with a bored look, until he tried to sigh and his breath caught and he groaned in pain.
"Here," Blaine said as he tossed a box of pills, and then placed a tube of something next to it on the floor by Kurt's feet, before t=he turned to cut the bandage into long strips with the scissors, "Topricin and Vicodin, something I swear by when I get injured in the ring sometimes."
Kurt was silent, and raised an eyebrow as Blaine worked. After the long bandage strips were ready, Blaine asked Kurt to take off his jacket and shirt, which Kurt found difficult, and it took a lot of glares and offers of help before Kurt would let Blaine take over to take it off.
Blaine reached for the Topricin first, as Kurt put his arms slowly back down by his sides, wincing a little. Blaine smoothed some of the cream between his palms, before glancing up and catching Kurt's eye, silently asking permission, receiving a small nod in return and then placing both of his hands against Kurt's sore side.
"Ouch!" Kurt said as Blaine carefully ran his palms over the affected area, the skin underneath was already hot and turning a nice dark shade of blue and purple, but he tried to be as gentle as possible.
"Sorry." He said once he was down and got up to get Kurt a glass of water, before thrusting some Vicodin pills into one hand and Kurt downed them.
Next up, Blaine started to wrap the bandages first around the bottom of his chest, just above his abdomen, and Kurt jolted a little when Blaine hands brushed past his stomach, and Blaine coughed and threw him an apologetic smile.
He started wrapping the bandages around a little tighter, pulling against the end to pinch them together around Kurt's chest.
"Aah!" Kurt yelled as he tugged on the bandage over the sore part of his side, and Blaine winced a little.
"Sorry."
"Fuck...are you sure you've done this before?" Kurt asked in irritation, the Vicodin and ointment not working to take away the pain yet, and Blaine glared as he carried on with bandaging Kurt up.
"I did my own all the time back at my old school." He told Kurt and felt the body underneath his hands tense a little.
"...oh...," Kurt said, and as Blaine pulled the very end of the bandage a little he jumped again, "ouch, fuck!"
"Sorry," Blaine said as he taped up and pinned the end so that it wouldn't come undone, "I'm all done."
"Fucking finally," Kurt said as he gasped a little under the pressure of the bandage around his chest, "Please don't say you want to be a nurse when you leave high school, your treatment of patients is atrocious."
That hit a little too close to home for Blaine and he glared as he packed the first aid things away in his cupboard, and slamming the doors shut before turning to help Kurt pull his t-shirt over his head.
"You aren't a patient and not everything is pain free, ok," He said with a low, offended tone, and huffed as he crossed his arms over his chest as Kurt stood, "If you want to act like a dick, even after I saved your ass-"
"Just because you may have helped me, doesn't make us friends, Anderson." Kurt said interrupting Blaine again, and pushed past him, making his way out of the bathroom, down the hallway, down the stairs, and out of the front door.
Blaine let out another breath once he heard the front door shut and he shook his head as he glared at the floor.
"What a dick."
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Kurt sighed as he leaned against his front door. He hurt all over, but his chest was the worst. It felt like his lungs were caving in with every breath. His father was due home from work any minute, so Kurt had to hurry to wash off the blood from his face and then apply a tiny bit of concealer over his eyes and across his nose and then he focused on what he was going to do about his split lip.
Maybe he could cover it with lipstick and his dad wouldn't notice, but his father always seemed to notice things out of place with his face.
His dad didn't know that Kurt stocked up on make-up every time he went to the mall with Quinn and Santana, just for this particular reason, if it were to happen, and today it did.
He found clear cold sore patches in the bathroom cabinet, and he had an idea.
He quickly put a patch over his cut, wincing at the sting of the medication on it as it bled inside his lip, and quickly put a little concealer over the top, then applying his own lip colour in a tint on top, drying it off slightly and then admiring his work in the mirror.
It would have to do, he would just tell his dad that the lump on his lip is from an oncoming cold sore.
He wandered into the kitchen to get dinner started, before eyeing his t-shirt, all bloodied from where his nose exploded earlier, and he rolled his eyes and sighed, trudging his way back up to his room, and struggling to pull it off.
As he buttoned up a shirt, figuring that it would be easier than pulling something over his head, he thought back to Blaine. Yes, he had helped him, and as usual Kurt had been a dick to him.
Blaine seemed a little butt-hurt when he left, but Kurt couldn't help but keep his attitude up, it helped his own mind and body a lot, covering up the emotional side was for the best. Once he was away from Ohio, then he would let himself be, relax and drop his guards, maybe.
But right now, Kurt needed to be the asshole, always. It worked for him, protected him, kept his head above water around school, made sure that some people kept their distance...he knew it hurt people and scared people, especially his father, when his attitude sometimes got the best of him, but he really had no choice.
Blaine was brave...Kurt wanted to be too, but he felt like he couldn't be, not here, not right now. There was a certain path you followed to avoid certain bad things in life, and to avoid bad things, sometimes you had to become a bad thing.
His mother would have been disappointed in him for not standing up and shouting to the world about who he really is...or was, but she wasn't here anymore.
His father walked through the door at 4:30pm on the dot, and Kurt had dinner already served up and waiting, his father patting him on the back as he walked past him to sit at the table.
He kept an eye on his own movements and facial expressions while they were sitting and talking, he didn't need his father to know anything about school, apart from what Kurt had deemed safe territory to tell him, like his grades.
But he never gave his father his real grades, he was getting A's, and a few A pluses, but his father thought he was coasting by with barely C's, and that was how Kurt would keep it until summer came.
He would tell his father about his hopes and dreams when he was due to leave high school forever, then and only then would his father look at him with pride in his eyes instead of constant disappointment.