nosquisumus.

“Sparring then?” he asked with a crooked grin on his face. He gently cleaned the wound, humming lightly as he did so. When Jasons hand finally lifted the blood was mostly cleaned from the wound. His fingers traced the others knuckles lightly for a moment before he looked up at him. Blaine. “Does that hurt? I need to know if we’re in for a trip to the hospital tonight.” Jason, for all his flirtatious personality quirks, really was nervous for Blaine’s hand. He could see the callouses on his fingers. He worked with his hands often and an injury could be bad for him.

“Sort of.  Got asked for a couple rounds.  Turns out?  He was one of the types who don’t like losing to a gay guy.  So they resort to a cheap shot or two under the guise of a mistake.”  The gym, thankfully, wasn’t full of them which is what drew him here.  Even though it was a train ride away from the one closest?  It was worth the trip to avoid the meatheads.  One or two still occasionally managed to slip by.  Today, it was his luck that he didn’t sense it before agreeing to spar with one.  The guy wouldn’t shut up about how they should go try their luck on some ‘hot piece of ass’ working out in cardio with her friend.  

Round Three landed him a sock to the diaphragm hard enough to knock his wind out while simultaneously pushing his wrong timing and now I’ve got a point to prove button.  The rest, they say, is history.  Though his knuckles didn’t get in the shape they were in on their own.  Who came out worse for wear?  Well.  Depends on how you look at it.  His brows shoved together at the soft touch running across his knuckles.  It hurt but not a hospital worthy hurt.  Probably.  “Yeah but..  I think it’ll be okay.  Just needs some ice.  At least I hope so,” he quipped at the end before sighing in frustration at the situation.  His fingers twitched against Jason’s palm when the other’s finger grazed over his pinky knuckle.  “I can always see how they look tomorrow..  Thank you.  For everything.”