Mean

Taking a step back, Blaine exhaled heavily, stars now exploding in his eyes. His mouth still twisted into a snarl, the ferocity of his rapidly pounding heart echoed in his ears, the blood still surging through the veins which stood out from his neck. Only when the punch-bag before him came to a standstill did he relax his fierce stance, and allow his clenched fists to fall to his sides.
His stocky shoulders dropping, the boy tipped his head back to gaze up at the ceiling of the gym, smiling faintly to himself. Already, the repose he felt after such an intense training session was beginning to wash over him, as the energy he had felt winding up inside him was now expelled from his muscles. Sighing, Blaine closed his eyes and simply stood there, swaying slightly on the spot as the material wrapped around his hands began to unravel, coiling to a pile on the floor.
When he had started his boxing training back at Dalton, it had been at a time when Blaine had promised never again to be victimized by those who despised him, and never again to be too weak to fight back. In honesty, he had started training for himself. But now, Blaine had a much greater incentive to keep himself strong. It was no longer just to keep himself safe, but to protect the boy he loved, if there ever came a time when cruel words and taunts turned to something more serious.
Wiping the back of his hand over his brow to catch the droplets of sweat that lingered there, Blaine let his thoughts wander to Kurt, and his smile stretched a little wider. While he spent his time in the gym, his boyfriend took extra lessons in French, and after they were both finished, they would meet and go for coffee at the Lima Bean. It was a ritual that they had become quite used to over the course of the year, and one they both looked forward to.
Eager to be done so that he could go and meet with Kurt, Blaine leant down to pick up his wrist wraps, before heading to the locker rooms. His muscles throbbed deeply, but he was quite used to the pain; he welcomed it. It was a reminder that he was strong - strong enough for both himself and Kurt - and it made him feel powerful, unstoppable. A fighter. But Blaine knew, once he was lying beside that beautiful boy, just inhaling his scent and stroking his soft hair, the fighter in him would go to sleep, and he would be left a lover. And what a reward it was, after so much sweat and tears.
When he entered the locker rooms, he found them to be quite deserted, with only a few voices to be heard from around the corner. Humming absentmindedly to himself, Blaine pulled off his vest shirt, slinging it down to the bench behind him as he yanked open the metal door of his locker, and reached in for a towel. Wiping the sweat from his torso, Blaine gazed into his locker, and he had to admire how well-kept it was. Most of the boys, being footballers, cared little about keeping their possessions tidy – as long as they had their kit, and a rag of material to wipe away the sweat (and quite often, blood) they were satisfied. But Blaine's…his wrist wraps were always returned to their place beside his boxing gloves, and his towel was thread through a slot in the side so it could dry. A collection of deodorant cans lined one wall, along with some body-spray, and a tub of his favourite hair-gel. The shot glass that Puck had given him was set to one side, and it always made him smile to think of the friends he had amongst the boys in Glee club. And at the back of his locker, behind an old letterman jacket that Finn had given him, was a photo of Kurt. A reminder of why he was working himself so very hard.  
Slinging the towel around his neck, Blaine was about to reach into his locker for his hair gel, when something caused him to stop in his tracks. The voices, which had been barely audible when he had first entered the locker rooms, had now increased in volume, growing more furious with every word. His eyebrows narrowing with puzzlement, Blaine stepped away from his locker, and crept as soundlessly as he could until he was closer to the arguing people.
"That's my decision, Turner, and my decision is final!"
His heart hammering a little harder in his chest, Blaine recognized the voice of the football coach, Shannon Beiste. She was a formidable woman when crossed, but luckily, having nothing to do with the football team, Blaine had managed to avoid her temper during his time at McKinley. He had met her a few times when she had come to see the Glee club perform, and there, he had seen that she was not as fierce as she seemed. But at this moment, with her voice almost at a shriek, she was nothing less than terrifying.
"Do you hear me? You're off the team! Now go!"
Shrinking back a little at the harshness of her voice, Blaine decided against peeking around the lockers to see what was going on. He did not want to get caught, not whilst Beiste was so angry. And besides, he could guess at what was happening; Turner, one of the footballers, was getting kicked off the team, and from the sounds of it, he was not taking it well.
"What are you going to do without a kicker? No one in this school can kick as well as me, and you know that! No one!"
"Hey!" Beiste yelled, and there was a scuffling of footsteps, "You stay right where you are."
"Gerrof me!"
"I'll leave you alone when you stop being an insolent little boy!"
The footsteps of the football coach drew closer as she led the now grumbling boy to the bench and sat him down. Deciding to continue getting changed before he was caught eavesdropping, Blaine slinked back towards his locker, and hid himself behind the metal door. Beiste's voice, now much quieter, could still be heard, but Blaine chose not to listen to her.  
That was until a loud crash broke the quiet; the sound of a laundry trolley being tossed aside.
"Hey!" Beiste screamed, rising to her full height as the boy she was scolding turned on her, his fists raised before his face, poised.
"You never appreciate what I do for this team!" Turner yelled, "You never understand how much we do to try and please you, you ungrateful cow!"
Blaine snapped. Infuriated by the disrespect being shown towards a teacher, he slammed the door of his locker closed and sprinted across the room, throwing himself between Beiste and the boy. He was almost half the size of the football player, but Blaine did not care – he had fought bigger. Putting up his fists, he jutted out his chin threateningly, and took a step towards his opponent.
"What did you say?" Blaine snarled, watching as Turner's expression turned from anger to shock, and then to one of amusement.
"What are you going to do, little man?"
"Nothing, if you choose to back off now. But if you dare say a word more to Coach Beiste, my fist might just find your jaw."
Blaine almost couldn't believe the words were coming from between his own lips. This was not like him… he was never one to threaten people, or use his strength to hurt someone. But he guessed this was the exact reason he was training – to protect others.
"Anderson..?" Beiste's voice was faint, almost in awe at Blaine's sudden display of ferocity.
"Stand down, mate; this hasn't got anything to do with you." Turner spat at the smaller boy, looking over Blaine's shoulder towards his football coach.
"Just back off her, okay?" Blaine spoke through gritted teeth, slamming his hands into the taller boy's shoulders to knock him back a few paces.
"Oi," Turner returned, shoving Blaine back equally as hard, "you better watch it, or I'm gonna hurt you."
"D'you think?"
"Don't push me… Anderson, was it? Why d'you stand up for her anyway? 'You fancy her?" Turner smirked, dropping his fists a little as he looked across at Beiste with scorn. Blaine clenched his jaw. So, this was going to be a bare-knuckle fight? So be it.
"I stand up for her," Blaine growled, throwing a punch at Turner's ugly grin, "because she doesn't deserve to be treated in that way by scum like you."
Blaine's fist smashed into Turner's face, causing the taller boy to stumble backwards a few paces, his face scrunched up in pain. His training coming into use, Blaine brought his fist back into its defensive position before his face, crouching low in preparation for Turner's return attack.
But this was no boxing match. There were no rules, no limits to what damage could be done to one another. This was a proper fight, and Turner was going to play rough. Growling, the football player launched himself at Blaine, using his brute strength to pin the smaller boy against the lockers.
"I told you not to push me, Anderson. A little nobody like you cannot tell me what to do – I'm the kicker of this football team, and I:-"
"Were." Beiste cut across him, putting a hand to Turner's chest and prising him off Blaine, "You were the kicker. Now back the hell off this student, and get the hell out of my locker room. Go!"
Smirking, Turner cast Blaine one last glare, before turning and marching from the room. When his footsteps had faded once more to silence, Beiste took her eyes from the door through which the boy had disappeared, and slumped down to the bench with a sigh.
Stepping away from the lockers into which his torso had been smashed, Blaine winced slightly as he already felt the bruises beginning to form on his shoulder blades. Blaine had never been in a fight where there were no rules against foul play, and where his opponent was not a friend or a classmate. That had been his first experience of what would happen if he ever had to tackle Kurt's bullies, and strangely, it felt good.
Blaine was about to head back to his locker to clean himself up when he heard a quiet sob from behind him. Spinning around, his eyes fell upon the hunched over figure of Coach Beiste, and he couldn't quite believe what he saw. She was crying. This woman – so strong and tough – had broken down to tears before his very eyes.
"Hey Coach, are you alright?" he asked quietly, crouching on the floor to look up at her face.
"Nothing I can't handle, Anderson. Don't you worry." she whispered back, sniffing.
Placing his hand on her knee reassuringly, Blaine waited patiently until she had composed herself once more, before asking further.
"It's what he said, wasn't it? It wasn't very nice."
"I get it all the time," Beiste shrugged, wiping her hands under her eyes to catch the last few tears.
"But it doesn't hurt any less, does it?"  
Taken aback, the woman held her breath for a moment, looking down into Blaine's eyes curiously. The boy nodded, understanding how confused she must be; he was just a student she barely knew, and here he was, standing up for her and trying to comfort her. Smiling, he decided to introduce himself, and help her see how he understood the pain she felt.
"My name's Blaine Anderson, and I'm the boyfriend of Kurt Hummel."
Beiste's eyes flashed with realization, and Blaine almost feared that she would send him away, as she had done with Turner. But, no. Instead, Beiste nodded slowly to herself, looking across at Blaine with a softened expression.
"I guess you know all about getting called names then, huh?"
"Talk about it," Blaine smiled kindly, "it's a cruel world, isn't it? But its okay – we just need to learn to ignore it and not let it get us down."
Sighing, the football coach averted her eyes down to the floor, shame crossing her face as she spoke her thoughts.
"It's just so hard, sometimes. Especially when it's a student calling you names." she huffed, casting a glare towards the door through which Turner had left.
"Hey, forget about him. He'll give you no more trouble."
"I'll be alright. 'Cause there's students like you, isn't there? The kind ones."
Smiling, Blaine stood up, leaning back against the lockers without another word. Glad to have been of some help, it filled him with happiness to see the teacher smile again, even if it did mean that he would be late to his date with his boyfriend. Kurt would understand, surely.
Her eyes now clear of tears, Beiste took a deep breath, standing up to put her hand on Blaine's shoulder with a laugh.
"Well, there's a vacancy on the football team, if you'd like to sign up? You look like you'd make a good kicker."
Smiling, Blaine shook his head. Since transferring to McKinley, he had been pressured by many of the Glee boys into joining the football team, but each time he had refused. He loved college football, but he would much rather be a spectator than actually out on the field. His friends had joked about it being 'too straight' for him, but Kurt only had to remind them of his time being the kicker to silence them.
"No thanks, Coach. I'm more of a performer, I think."
"Ah, that's right; I've seen you in Glee Club. You're very good, and your boyfriend, too. So what brings you to the gym then?" she asked, taking in Blaine's bare chest, and sweated-dampened curls.
"I was part of a boxing club back at Dalton Academy, and so I keep it up here. Comes in handy, sometimes," he laughed, referring back to the fight he had very narrowly avoided with Turner.
"I bet! Well, you're very good at it, from what I saw - very good form. Are you sure you don't want to take it up as an actual sport?"
"I don't think so – it's more of a safety measure, in case the teasing thrown at Kurt and I becomes something more than just name-calling."
Nodding her head solemnly, Beiste allowed her hand to fall from Blaine's shoulder, and she took a step back to give him space. Moving back towards his locker, Blaine pulled open the door, and picked up his clothes which had been piled up at the back.
"Thanks for standing up for me, Blaine," Beiste whispered, and Blaine looked up with surprise as her use of his first name, "it means a lot. And if you'd like to try out for the football team, well, that'd mean a lot too."
"I'll think about it." Blaine promised, grinning as his eyes fell on the letterman jacket in his locker. It was one which Finn had grown out of, and he had given it to Blaine to help him feel more included – 'one of the boys' – but Blaine had never worn it. It didn't feel right, since he was not on the football team, and he hadn't even been a McKinley Titan for long. But hey, it might be cool to give it a shot, mightn't it?
Realizing the time, Blaine cursed under his breath, and quickly began to change into his shirt and bowtie, and his trousers with suspenders. He hadn't even noticed that Coach Beiste had left the locker room. He was already late for his date, and Kurt would be mad if he broke their ritual coffee trip. Combing the gel through his hair to give it his usual style, Blaine looked to the back of his locker, to where the photo of his boyfriend smiled out at him. Smiling back, the boy closed the metal door, and hurried from the locker rooms to where he knew Kurt would be waiting for him.