Blaine wasn't quite able to perform a successful single jump by the end of the weekend, but he was well on his way. He finished his final run-through of the short routine Isabelle had taught him and even Kurt had to admit that it was a miraculous performance given that he'd only been skating for less than 48 hours.

Kurt had just watched from the bleachers for most of the day, since Isabelle wanted to concentrate on evaluating Blaine's skating potential and ability to memorize choreography. Blaine had learned the routine quickly and performed it over-and-over without a grumble or complaint. His work-ethic should have impressed Kurt, but instead it just pissed him off.

He'd laughed out loud the first few times Blaine had tried lifting one leg high off the ground behind him as he glided across the ice, thinking he looked about as steady as a newborn fawn. He started to reign in his reactions after a few sharp looks from Isabelle, but had still snickered to himself when he couldn't stop picturing Blaine as Bambi splayed out on his stomach.

As Blaine bent over to take off his skates at the end of practice, Isabelle turned to Kurt with a pointed look and he knew without a doubt that she was fully convinced that Blaine was the right fit for the job. Kurt wanted to argue; he wanted to stomp his foot and throw a tantrum over the unfairness of having to start over with a partner who was the skating equivalent to a preschooler, but he bit his tongue and nodded slightly instead.

There would have to be discussions to finalize all the details, but the skating team of Hummel and Anderson was now officially a go. And if Blaine even tried to suggest that they be known as Anderson and Hummel, Kurt would run him over with the Zamboni.

=^..^=

The next few weeks were a blur for Blaine. He found an apartment not too far from the rink and Cooper helped him move his things in the next Saturday. Blaine had actually expected Cooper to give him a harder time about his decision to take up figure skate, but in a rare moment of brotherly support, Cooper had just clapped him on the shoulder hard enough to rock him back on his heels and told him he looked forward to seeing Blaine out competing on the ice again, no matter what the sport.

Isabelle took Blaine shopping in Columbus for his own pair of skates and some practice clothes, and though Kurt came with them, he wasn't much help at all, choosing to just stand back and make disparaging remarks about Blaine's fashion sense. In retaliation, Blaine had purchased the brightest, most obnoxious pieces he could find and vowed to wear them in combinations that would hopefully sear Kurt's retinas.

He also hired himself a private coach, recommended to him by Isabelle, who he would work with three days a week on basic skating skills. He would then practice with Kurt three additional days each week. He was mildly shocked at how expensive the equipment and coaching was. He'd known figure skating wasn't a cheap sport, but they hadn't even gotten to the major expenses like competition costumes, custom music, and travel. The money was no problem for him, since he had the buy-out money from his hockey contract, but he wondered how the Hummels had been able to afford the expense for so many years.

The first day of practice arrived and Blaine couldn't sleep. He tossed and turned for several minutes before giving up and dragging himself out of bed. Kurt had texted him that practice would begin at eight o'clock, but it wouldn't hurt to get to the rink early. In fact, he was looking forward to the expression on Kurt's face when he walked in and found Blaine already skating. He got dressed in a pair of obnoxiously bright yellow skating pants and a red and blue striped long-sleeved t-shirt. He glanced in the mirror, pleased with the result. He looked like some kind of mutant bumble bee. Kurt would loath it.

Blaine used his shiny new key to unlock the front door of the rink and stepped inside, grinning as he imagined how Kurt would react when he finally showed up. Would he grind his teeth and pretend to smile a greeting or would he glare and stomp off to the locker room? Blaine opened the second door to the ice and…Kurt skated by, his arms stretched out elegantly and his head turned pointedly in the other direction.

Blaine sighed with disappointment that his plan had been foiled and trudged off to the locker room, waving at Isabelle as he went. He returned minutes later and began his own warm-up. As he passed Kurt on the ice, he heard an exaggerated intake of breath.

"Why Blaine, you're here!" Kurt turned around to skate backwards so that he was looking at Blaine. "You were so late I thought that maybe you'd forgotten that training started today. No worries, I'm sure we can work around your schedule if you can't make it in by six o'clock. We can't all be morning people, after all."

Blaine was the one to grit his teeth and fake a smile. "No, that won't be necessary. Early morning works for me. I must have just spaced on the timing. It won't happen again."

Kurt just smiled sweetly and skated on.

Blaine watched him go with narrowed eyes. If Kurt wanted a war, he had it.

=^..^=

It was the end of their fourth week of training and Blaine was tired. Bone deep, fall-asleep-in-your-clothes-and-sleep-for-a-month kind of tired, but he refused to be the one who gave in first. He glanced over at Kurt, who had a similarly stubborn look in his eye, and then suggested to Isabelle that they try their simple routine again, for about the hundredth time that day.

He had only been working with Kurt three days of each week, but each training session had been a monumental struggle between his unstoppable force and Kurt's immovable object. It had all started on the first day, when Isabelle had asked them to do some dance hold skating, meaning that they would be facing each other. As they'd gotten into position, Kurt had grimaced and asked Blaine to make sure to brush his teeth next time. Blaine, who was already minty fresh, thank you very much, had smiled and promised he would do so.

The following day, he'd dutifully brushed his teeth then ate a breakfast burrito with extra onions that he had purchased on his way home the night before. When he'd gathered Kurt into his arms for their skate he had blinked his eyes innocently and exhaled long and hard. Kurt's eyes had nearly crossed from the smell of his breath. For their third practice that week, Blaine had eaten some cold pasta that he'd covered with nearly half-a-head of roasted garlic.

Kurt had met him at the edge of the ice at the beginning of their next training session with a little cup filled with mouth wash and wouldn't skate with him until he had used it.

That had set the tone for the whole month. Kurt complained that Blaine's hands were too sweaty and that he couldn't get a good enough grip, so that night Blaine sewed pieces of Velcro to two pairs of gloves and the next day gave Kurt a pair, saying that this way he might be able to get a good grip. Kurt protested when Blaine hummed on the ice, saying that the sound was throwing off his rhythm, so Blaine showed up with a kazoo after lunch. Kurt grumbled that Blaine wasn't shaving often enough and that his stubble was irritating Kurt's skin when they did a dance move that caused their cheeks to touch. Blaine came to the ice the next day wearing a full beard and mustache that he had driven all the way to Cooper's school to pick up.

Blaine studied when he wasn't on the ice or thinking up new ways to torment Kurt. He read books on figure skating and quizzed himself until he knew all the terms backwards and forwards. He watched videos of National, World, and Olympic competitions and made notes about moves, music, and costumes he found interesting. And he watched videos of Kurt skating. He had been competing for 12 years, so there were enough to keep Blaine busy for the next year at least.

"I don't think we need to go through the routine again," Isabelle sighed tiredly, bringing Blaine back to the present. "You guys did great and you've earned your day off tomorrow."

Kurt flung the towel he was holding down and shook his head. "No, we need to keep going. Blaine still doesn't have the timing down and his extension isn't right on the Arabesque. God, this is taking forever. I'm going to forget how to do everything while we wait for Blaine to learn how to skate in a straight line."

"If you wanted a more experienced partner you should have worked on being better known for your skating rather than your attitude. And maybe I'd get my extension right if you didn't always insist on dressing up like New York Fashion Week's idea of workout wear." Blaine said gesturing to Kurt's fashionably disheveled practice clothes, which consisted of tight black leggings with a light green stripe that spiraled up one leg, a coordinating tight green leotard, a black wrap-around shrug type sweater, and a blue and green scarf. "I'm always afraid I'm going to catch my blade in one of your many, many layers. Can't you just dress like a normal person for once? There's no one here to impress."

Kurt stilled, his whole body stiffing until his spine could have been used as a ruler. Then, without a word, he skated off the ice and disappeared into the locker room.

Blaine watched him go in confusion. Why had that gotten to Kurt when everything else he'd said and done all month had garnered little reaction? He turned to Isabelle in frustration. "Why is he like that? Why does he have to make everything so hard?"

Isabelle patted his shoulder. "I always picture Kurt as a porcupine. He has lots of barbs to convince you he's scary and doesn't want you around, but the more time you spend with him, the more you see he's actually a big softie on the inside. Eventually he'll let his guard down around you. We'll get there, I promise."

=^..^=

Kurt slid his key into the lock and pulled the door open, slipping into the building for the practice that would mark the end his and Blaine's second month together. They'd been trading back-and-forth on who arrived at the rink first in the morning, yet another facet of the never ending competition they were having with each other. Today, it was Blaine who was the victor and Kurt hid behind a support post to watch as he glided over the ice, unaware that anyone was watching.

Though he and Blaine had been skating together for two months now, he couldn't really say that he knew him any better than he had on that first day. After the first week, Blaine had stopped flirting with him and while he was mostly relieved, there was a small part of him that missed the attention. They didn't have much time for personal talk during training and so far neither of them had made any effort to spend time together off the ice. Kurt knew he had probably ruined any possibility of a friendship between them with his behavior the past few months, but he couldn't help himself. It was like he and Blaine were two combustible liquids in a chemistry lab. Mix them together and stand back and watch the fireworks.

Blaine didn't seem to have a problem getting along with anyone else. Kurt knew that he and Isabelle had gone out for drinks after practice several times (Kurt always turned down Isabelle's invitations to join them) and he seemed to have made friends with the Zamboni driver and a few others at the rink. Kurt, on the other hand, never seemed to mesh well with people. A childhood spent practicing or at competitions hadn't exactly made him Mr. Popularity. Because of his skating, and later his obvious homosexuality, people in his small, conservative hometown hadn't known how to act around him. They hadn't liked him, so he had learned not to like them in return.

He was uncomfortable making small talk, so he retreated behind cutting remarks and sarcasm in order to have something to say. He had only gotten worse when he'd partnered up with Santana Lopez, who could flay the skin off of the devil himself with her tongue. He felt like he had studied under the master and come away with a PhD in angry bitch talk.

Of course, Blaine was giving back as good as he got. It was a dynamic Kurt hadn't even realized that he'd missed when Chandler was his partner. Chandler had never given him crap in return. He had just stared like a whipped puppy and apologized for whatever had set Kurt off. There was something satisfying in knowing that a snippy comment made about Blaine's hair could send them into a five minute argument about personal style. It was like a pressure valve was being turned and he could feel the tension flowing out of him.

He watched as Blaine did a double jump followed in combination by a single jump and had to hold himself back from clapping. Blaine's background in dance was helping out enormously with his skating and he seemed to have a natural affinity for jumping. Despite himself, Kurt was impressed. He still resented the fact that he had to babysit a newbie and winced when he thought about the crap he was going to get on the circuit once the other skaters found out, but he did admit that Blaine had come further, faster than he had ever thought possible.

Blaine skated by and lifted one leg out behind him in a perfect Arabesque, the shape of his well-muscled butt cheeks clearly visible beneath his hot pink, patterned leggings. Seriously, where did he find all those hideous clothes?

Luckily, there was a birthday party scheduled on the ice starting at noon, so he and Blaine would be working in the gym in the afternoon doing some strength and flexibility training, and Blaine would have to change out of his skating clothes. Kurt didn't think he had it in him at the moment to look at those pants for very long.

After their morning skating practice and a working lunch with Isabelle spent discussing the training plan for the next month, they retired to the weight room that was set up in the back of the building. The first time they had worked out there, he had nearly swooned when Blaine had taken off his shirt, leaving him clad in just a thin, white undershirt. His small frame was deceptive and Kurt had finally seen the muscles that had been hinted at when Blaine had lifted him up on the first day. His arms and shoulders were nicely developed. Not in a you've-got-to-be-on-steroids-how-do-you-even-find-shirts-that-fit-your-arms sort of way, but just enough so that Kurt was able to imagine them doing some lifts and throw jumps that had not been possible for him to do with Chandler.

After an hour of lifting weights they moved onto separate workouts. Blaine went off to the corner to hit the punching bag, while Kurt practiced some ballet moves in front of the mirror, only letting his eyes stray to the other side of the room once or twice. Okay ten times at the maximum.

Next they came together again to do some Pilates. While Blaine had the strength needed for skating, he was not yet there when it came to the flexibility required for the spins. Kurt looked away as Isabelle helped Blaine sink deeper into a stretch, getting ever closer to being able to do the splits. He would not stare at Blaine's ass. He would not stare at Blaine's ass.

He was staring at Blaine's ass.

He couldn't help it. It was right there in front of him and all hard and shelf-y. If Blaine didn't want him staring at it he should move to the back of the room where Kurt couldn't see. It was all Blaine's fault really. He was probably doing it on purpose.

Suddenly, Kurt was feeling restless and itchy and knew he had to get up and leave the room or he'd try to alleviate the tension by saying something even more biting than he normally did. He excused himself and headed into the locker room, where he dashed some cold water on his face and stared into the mirror, angry with himself over his strange fascination with the curve of Blaine's rear end. His eyes slid away from his reflection for a second and he caught sight of a locker covered in stickers of the Vancouver Canucks logo, crossed hockey sticks, and a big silver cup that Kurt could only assume had something to do with hockey. He narrowed his eyes at the locker and smiled.

He slipped back into the weight room a few minutes later and re-joined the Pilates workout. An hour later they had finished their cool down exercises and Blaine was running off to the locker room, saying he had plans for the evening. Kurt watched him go, thinking unkindly that Blaine probably had a date, but didn't want to give them details because he couldn't remember the guy's name.

Isabelle was showing him a new idea for a lift when the door slammed open and Blaine stalked in, his left hand full of hot pink material. He stood silently in the door, looking accusingly at Kurt as he stretched out the fabric to show that they were his skating pants, now soaking wet, rumpled, and cut up in a few places.

"Kurt, do you have anything to say about this?" he asked, his usually triangular shaped eyebrows flattened out into a ridge over his eyes.

"Oh no!" Kurt cried dramatically as he ran a finger over one of the slash marks. "I guess they must have fallen out of your locker and the kids from the party accidently walked all over them with their skates. Darn. You should be more careful next time. Kids can be so inconsiderate."

Blaine bared his teeth in a semblance of a smile and threw what remained of the garment into the garbage before spinning on his heel and walking out.

Kurt allowed himself to feel just a smidgen of triumph and felt an electric charge run down his spine as he thought about what Blaine might do to pay him back.