Kurt is still getting used to waking up, walking to his closet, and seeing the same outfit. He feels a bit like a cartoon character whose outfit never changes and debates every morning what to wear but the audience knows it’s going to be the same blue blazer with red piping as it always is. He is still getting used to the Warblers who prefer Top 40 to Broadway. He is also getting used to Pavarotti chirping him awake but that’s a much easier pill to swallow.

One thing that seems familiar from the Time Before Dalton was studying. He’d always go over to Mercedes’ house under the guise of cracking books but really they’d crack jokes. Only Mercedes has been replaced by Blaine and her house by his dorm room.

Today they sit in Blaine’s dorm, history books spread out along the bed. Kurt props his legs up on the bed and turns another page, not really seeing what was in front of him. He thumbs the pages rhythmically, drawing Blaine’s attention.

“What’s up?” he asks, rolling on the bed in an effort to get closer to Kurt’s feet, rumpling papers under him in the process.

“I want to do something.”

“We’re studying.” Blaine’s smile was teasing and Kurt’s breath stuck in his throat. “Isn’t that doing something?”

“No, no. I mean, like, something about me.”

Blaine sits up straight with a concerned look. “Come sit with me,” he says, clearing the space around him. Kurt folds his legs underneath him, primly sitting next to Blaine. He keeps his hands on his knees, maintaining distance. “What do you mean?”

Kurt focuses on a paper under his knee, the date obscured and pushed into the bedding. “Last night, I had another nightmare.” Blaine closes a hand on top of Kurt’s, looking sympathetic but Kurt feels the warmth of his palm down to his toes. “And I kept thinking, what if I had done something? What if I’d fought back, you know?”

“I know.”

“You do?”

Blaine rolls onto his knees, facing Kurt. “After I got out of the hospital, Cooper was pretty angry. He wasn’t – before – he wasn’t around too much, he’s so much older. But after the dance, Cooper wanted me to be able to defend myself, because he was on the other side of the country.”

Kurt nods, urging Blaine to continue. He rises on his knees, closer to Blaine. The grip on Kurt’s hand tightens.

“I learned how to box, Kurt.”

Kurt’s brow furrows. “So like, what? You’re Mohammed Ali?”

Blaine laughs, releasing Kurt’s hand in favour of playfully shoving him. Kurt is suddenly cold. “I’m not that good. I just, you know, can defend myself... If the situation arises.”

Kurt kicks his legs out from underneath himself, laying on the bed beside Blaine, processing. “I’ve never seen you box.”

“I try not to actively pick fights.” No, Kurt thinks, he wouldn’t.  For now, it’s just for insurance. And fitness.”

Kurt turns his head to see Blaine lying down as well, face turned to the ceiling, hands loosely curled in fists but passively resting by his sides. He tries to imagine Blaine boxing. Does Blaine wear gloves? Does he own his own pair? Maybe he just wraps his hands with tape, Kurt’s seen that. Maybe he’d wear a pair of sweatpants and a sweatshirt. Would that be too constricting? Maybe Blaine doesn’t wear a shirt at all.

Kurt quickly stops the thought, reddening slightly. “Do you practice often?” he asks instead.

“A few times a week,” Blaine replies easily, shrugging slightly. “I may have started a club when I came here.”

“Really?” Kurt raises himself on to his elbows. “How come I’ve never seen you or heard of this?”

Blaine grins. “First rule of fight club, Kurt,” he says, tapping his nose.

Kurt lowers himself again, interlocking his fingers over his stomach. They rest in companionable silence, studying forgotten. Blaine starts to hum the latest Warbler number and Kurt taps his fingers to the beat. He sneaks a glance at Blaine’s hands. Blaine’s fingers are stockier that his, a bit wider, but still somehow elegant. The first two knuckles on the back of his hand are calloused like they’ve been scabbed over a few times. Blaine’s nails are clean and neatly trimmed, and don’t reach past the edge of his fingertips. He wonders what it’s like to hold Blaine’s hand. He wonders what those callouses would feel like under his thumbs as it stroked back and forth. Would they clasp hands or interlock fingers? How would their fingers fit together? Perfectly, probably.

“Will you teach me?”

Blaine starts, twitching on the bed. “What, teach you to box?”

“Yeah.”

“Really?” Blaine is surprised and Kurt asks him why. “It’s just, you’re such a pacifist. And it doesn’t seem like you to want to fight back with your fists and not your mouth.”

Kurt grimaces, remember the red of his jacket, the lockers the benches.

“Sorry, I meant your words.” Blaine says, reaching out to pass a hand over Kurt’s arm. Kurt shivers, and Blaine wraps his fingers around Kurt’s wrist. “Are you cold? Maybe we should cut this study session short.”

Kurt nods, untangling himself. “But will you teach me?”

Blaine is silent. “If that’s what you really want.”

“I do.”

“Okay.”

“Okay.”

Kurt picks up his blazer from where he had draped it across Blaine’s desk chair. He collects his books and turns, hand over the doorknob. 

“Wait,” Blaine says and Kurt pauses. “Where are you going?”

“To my dorm?”

Blaine smiles widely, and Kurt thinks he must know how nice he looks when he smiles. “You don’t have to leave just because we’re not studying anymore.”

Kurt stops, considering. “I think maybe I will. I should get some rest if I want to be able to pay attention to your lessons tomorrow, right?”

Blaine’s smile falls a little, the crinkle around his eyes disappearing but it was no less warm. “Sure.”

Blaine meets Kurt at the Dalton gym. He had cancelled club today and refused any offers to help him teach Kurt. Today wasn’t about teaching him how to fight. It was about teaching his self-defense. He’d never want to give Kurt the tools to actively hurt someone – not that he thinks Kurt would go picking fights. He just wants Kurt to protect himself. 

He slams the locker door shut, and jumps, hearing a surprised squeak from behind him. He turns, hands up and Kurt’s there, lips pressed together and hands at his heart. 

“Sorry,” the both say, and then grin.

“I didn’t mean to startle you,” Blaine says.

“Me either.”

Blaine casts what he hopes is a cursory glance over Kurt and not a leer, telling himself that he is just making sure that what he’s wearing is exercise appropriate. 

“Are you wearing an armband?”

Kurt looks affronted. “Yes.”

Blaine puts his hands up, “Okay, okay. Let’s get to work.”

Blaine leads Kurt out of the locker room, towards the punching bag and the mats. Kurt looks a little alarmed. Before he can think of anything better, Blaine reaches a hand out on to Kurt’s arm above the band. His finger curl, but Blaine notices that they almost do not reach each other on the other side of Kurt’s bicep. Both of them stiffen, and Blaine releases the arm, blushing. “You okay?” he asks, running a hand over his hair.

“Yeah.” Kurt peers at him closely. “Are you?” 

“Yeah, of course? Why wouldn’t I be? Just ready to box!” He lets out a little whoop, and Kurt, bless his heart, smiles weakly. Blaine feels like an idiot. “Ready?”

“Yeah. What first?”

Blaine picks up a training pad and holds it to his chest. It covers from his neck to his knees. Blaine threads his arms through the loops at the back, holding them firmly towards him. “Hit me,” Blaine commands, facing him with his legs bent and spread.

Kurt takes a step back. “What?”

“Hit me.”

Kurt raises his fists. “Are you sure?”

“No, wait!”

Blaine drops the pad. “You can’t hit me like that, Kurt.” He reaches towards Kurt, who approaches with his stance intact. Blaine wrapped his hands around Kurt’s, laughing a bit. “You can’t hit anyone like that.”

Blaine stretched Kurt’s fingers in his own, running his tips over their length. “You have strong hands. That’s.... That’s good.”

“Yeah?” Kurt’s voice was breathy and high. “Why?”

“Strength of the hands is the strength of the hit.” Kurt’s hand shakes in his own. “Are you cold? You’re always shivering.”

“No, no, I’m good, fine.”

“Okay, well, first you fold these fingers in.” Blaine curls his fingers over Kurt’s first four and presses them to his thumbs. “You touch your thumb to your third knuckles, leaving these two,” he brushes his thumb over the other boy’s first two knuckles, “to hit with.”

Kurt nods quickly. 

“Eventually, you’ll have to build callouses. Your skin will crack and bleed at first, but the longer you keep at it, the more resistance you will build.”

He picks up the pad again. “Now hit me.”

Kurt’s face turns resolute as he bends his legs and widens his stance. He snaps out a hand and hits the pad. Blaine barely sways back. Kurt drops his hand, obviously disappointed and Blaine fights back a giggle. 

“It didn’t work.”

“No,” Blaine says, dropping the pad. “Not quite.”

He reaches out for Kurt again, who willing comes closer. “When you punch, you have to turn your wrist, so that when you punch, your knuckles are on top, okay?”

Kurt nods, wrist turning properly as he throws a weak punch. 

“Good! That’s great, Kurt! But you need more power. The turn and follow through needs to be strong for you to actually make a dent, so to speak.”

“Can you show me?” Kurt asks, holding his fists close to his face.

Blaine grins, shaking out his shoulders. “Sure thing, Kurt,” he says, throwing him a wink. He momentarily wonders if other boys winked at their best friends. He throws a quick combination, simple enough, and turns back to Kurt who is staring at his arms. “Pretty cool, huh?”

“Uh, yeah, cool. Can you do it again?”

Blaine shrugs. “Sure.” He turns laterally, and repeats the combination. Some of the curls are escaping his gel and he pushes them back. “Shall we try the bag?” Blaine asks, grabbing the tape.

“If you think so.” Kurt obediently holds out his hands.

“Always tape your hands or wear gloves when you practice, okay?” He grabs Kurt’s hands between his own. “You don’t want these beautiful hands to get ruined, do you?”

Kurt shakes his head vigorously, blushing down to his neck. Blaine thinks it’s adorable. He begins to wrap the boxing around Kurt’s knuckles. They are quiet, breathing shallowly. He finishes the left and then the right hand before patting Kurt’s hands. “Ready.”

Kurt turns toward the bag. He raises his fists. 

“Wait!” 

Kurt stops and half-turns to Blaine. “What, now?”

“You have to sit a bit.”

Kurt just looks at Blaine. “Sorry, I guess that didn’t really make any sense.” Blaine comes closer to Kurt, hands out. “May I?”

“Uh, sure?”

Blaine drops his hand on Kurt’s hips.  “Blaine!”

He quickly removes his hands. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry! I’m just trying to help.”

Kurt shook his head. “You just startled me. It’s okay. Go ahead.”

Blaine steps closer, pressing his chest to Kurt’s back. “Okay?”

“Okay.”

Blaine’s hands float back to Kurt’s hips. “Okay, just bend your knees slightly.” They both dropped lower. “Great. Now on your toes.” He chuckles softly as Kurt raises himself on pointe. “No, not so high.” He pulls Kurt’s hips down to lower his toes, pressing his thighs against the back of Kurt’s. “Okay, use your hips to find your center of gravity. I’m going to let you go now, okay?”

Kurt’s hands grab onto Blaine’s wrists. “No! Wait! I... I need more balance.”

Blaine stills, squeezing Kurt’s hips in his hands. “Whatever you need.” Do best friends do this? They stay like that for a moment, breathing deeply. “Good?”

“Yes.”

Blaine drops to his flat feet, but keeps his hands on Kurt’s hips. “Punch it.”

Kurt does, remembering to turn his wrist. It’s strong for sure, but Kurt knows he can do better.  He throws two more punches and then growls in frustration. “It’s not working!”

“Hey, hey, hey!” Blaine wraps his arms around Kurt’s waist. “It takes practice. Let me try and help you. Punch again.”

Kurt does, and this time Blaine twists his hips under him. The punch lands square on the bag, making it swing back and forth in front of them. 

“I did it!” Kurt exclaimed, turning in Blaine’s arms.

“You did!” Blaine throws his arms around Kurt, and they swayed together, tightly wound. 

“I like this. We should do this all the time.”

Blaine pulls back, smiling up at Kurt, tilting his head. “What, hug?”

Kurt laughs and whoa. His lips are really close to Blaine’s. “No, box,” Kurt replies, squeezing tighter. “But hugging’s nice too.”