The stench of sweat, alcohol, and blood lingers everywhere in the huge underground area, the loud sounds of cheering almost drowning out the spokesperson. Two muscular men, wearing only boxing gloves and loose, easy-to-move-in pants, were breathless yet full of energy as they attempted to strike the other man down.
"And there goes Evans once again with his infamous uppercut then roundhouse kick!" The announcer yelled in the microphone over the screams of the crowd.
Sam smirks, bringing one of his fists to guard his face and his other fist a little lower - parallel to his neck. He narrows his eyes at his enemy, Schuester (Schue for short), and watches as the other man lunges for his right.
Sam shoots up his right hand to block, but then Schue swiftly changes direction at the last moment to grab Sam's left wrist.
"Son of a-" the blonde grunts, his eyes closing for a millisecond. He cries out in pain as he hears a crack from his left hand.
He stumbles back, clutching his arm close to his chest. He's ready to give up when he remembers why he's even in there in the first place.
With a newfound motivation, he straightens his standing position. The throbbing pain of his left hand possibly being broken numbs from his sheer determination and adrenaline.
"I'm going to bash your head in, you hear me?" Sam seeths, glaring at the referee that asks him if he can still fight. "Of course I can fucking fight! I'm standing ready, aren't I?"
The referee looks conflicted, but from one sharp look given by Sam, he backs off, allowing the blonde to finish his match.
Schue sets his jaw as he lunges again, surprised to see Sam still standing and seemingly unaffected by such a harmful attack. Sam sidesteps easily, rolling his eyes at how sloppy Schue's attacks were becoming.
The curly haired opponent trips comically over Sam's foot before falling splat on his face onto the concrete.
A gasp runs through the crowd as they witness blood oozing from Schue's nose. The two emergency doctors grab him and haul him up, while Sam stretches his arms up victoriously. The referee pats his back, declaring Sam Evans the winner.
The surprised silence soon evaporates into shrieks of pure delight. Sam ignores the pain from his left hand and walks back to his personal room, slinging a towel around his neck to clean off his sweat.
Still pulsing with adrenaline from the match, he jumps into the shower for a few minutes, replaying the previous events.
How could he be so stupid to not react in time to the punch? Schue totally played dirty, but in The Killing Machine tournament, there were no rules. Hell, Sam could've gotten away with killing Schue if he really wanted, but the blonde had some sort of morals. Besides, the faster he wins his matches, the faster he could get the hell out of there.
The door burst open, and a familiar voice called his name out. "Sam!" The blonde turned off the shower when he heard his best friend. "Oh, you're taking a shower. I'll wait for you-"
"No, it's good. I just needed to wipe the sweat and dirt off. I'll take a better shower at home because this one sucks," Sam replied, as he took a long towel and wrapped it lowly around his waist.
Blaine, raised his triangular eyebrows when he saw that the blonde wasn't wearing a shirt, so he turned around. "Jeez, you could've warned me. I feel like just being in a room with you when you're shirtless is equivalent to cheating on Sebastian."
"Don't worry, Blaine," Sam laughs, "I'm not interested in guys anyway."
"I don't understand how you're not. I mean, us guys are hot," Blaine flaunted, spinning around to wink flirtatiously.
"Now that my friend, is borderline cheating," Sam snickers, successfully drying himself and throwing on a button down shirt with jeans. He runs his right hand through his wet hair, spiking it up faintly, and he turns to his gel-haired friend. "How do I look?"
Blaine pats the blonde's shoulders. "Camera ready. C'mon, it's time to face the crowd and bask in your victory."
Sam sighs, blinking a few times before stepping out of his personalized room, Blaine just a few steps behind him.
"Evans! Evans! Evans!" The crowd chants as the blonde waves. This may be an illegal underground place, but it's rather famous, and several knew Sam Evans to be a local celebrity. Not only is he an incredible boxer, but he's extremely attractive and has a body to die for. Not to mention his charming and surprisingly sweet personality.
"Hey, Sam?" Blaine addresses him.
"Yeah?" Sam replies, but he isn't able to turn to Blaine because he has to keep his eye on the crowd.
"How's your hand? I mean, from the audience, it looked pretty bad. Couldn't it be broken?" The shorter boy wonders out loud.
"I've had a broken bone before, and this feels a bit different. It hurts like a fucking bitch, but I have to smile for the crowd. I guess the energy from the match is still in me, so I can't really feel it," Sam answers, glancing at his friend for a moment.
"Maybe you should have it checked out," Blaine suggests. "We wouldn't want it affecting your next game."
Sam opens his mouth to reply, but he's interrupted from a pat on his shoulder. "Samuel frickin' Evans, you are a champ! You remind me of me before I broke my leg." The compliment came from a tall, lanky man in his mid-thirties, sporting a lopsided grin and messy dark brown hair.
"Thanks, Mr. Hudson," the younger man looks down at his shoes, smiling brightly because he impressed his mentor. "I-I'm gonna do better next time, though. I could've seen the fake punch coming, and maybe then my hand wouldn't be-"
"Don't sweat it too much. You defeated Schue, so you don't have to worry about him playing dirty. I'll train you a bit more, but it's nothing you should worry about. Hell, I didn't even see his feint attack either. But," Finn ruffles Sam's hair as they step out of the stadium, "you should get your hand checked out."
"That's exactly what I was saying!" Blaine piped, attempting to catch up to the two taller men. "Can you guys slow down? I have short legs."
"I know a doctor that could fix your hand at a limited price," Finn tells him, leading them to his car.
"Oh, is it Mercedes?" Blaine jumps excitedly. "She's one of the coolest chicks ever."
"Who's Mercedes?" Sam furrows his brows, sitting back in his seat and relaxing into the cushion behind him.
"Your mentor's brother's girlfriend's best friend," Blaine rubs his neck.
"Uh, Finn's my mentor. Puck's his brother. Quinn is Puck's girlfriend. So Quinn's best friend?" Sam questions, to which his doe-eyed friend nods to. "Why couldn't you just say that?"
"That defeats the whole purpose. You know in those movies where they're all like, 'I know a guy, who knows a guy, who knows a guy' and so on?" Blaine asks.
"Uh, I'm not sure, but I'll pretend I understand," Sam purses his lips, his brows furrowed.
"Don't worry, dude," Finn assures from the driver's seat. "I got it."
"Thanks, Finny," Blaine beams.
"It's Mr. Hudson to you," Finn points a finger, not even bothering to glance back at him.
Sam stifles a chuckle as Blaine mock salutes. "Scout's honor!"
"Were you even a boy scout?" Sam turns from the seat beside Finn's so he can look at Blaine directly.
"No, but I've slept with one. His name was Kurt, and he's the best sex I've ever had. If I ever find Kurt again, I'm ditching Sebastian for him. Seb's just there to... uh, fill my sexual needs," Blaine tells his best friend.
"Dude, that's what masturbation is for," Sam rolls his eyes. "As much as I hate Sebastian because he's an ass, so you really think using him for sex is a good idea?"
"Yeah. He uses me for it, too," Blaine shrugs. "Sebastian is definitely not the one, but he's here and a sex god."
"You believe in a one true love?" Sam turns back in his seat so Blaine won't see that he's blushing faintly. "Do... do you think I'll find a soulmate?"
"Uh, hell yeah, Sammy!" Blaine scoffs. "Why are you even asking? You're, like, the sweetest guy ever. If I didn't see you as a brother, I'd totally try to jump your bones. You just need to find a girl that's worth your time, money, and energy."
"I think true love is a thing, too," Finn adds in. "In fact, I'm planning on proposing to Rachel next week."
"What?!" Blaine shrieks, and Sam covers his ears before they bleed. "When were you planning on telling us?! You have to make an adorably romantic proposal, a-and everything needs to be perfect! She's your one, your soulmate, y-your-"
"Bro, calm down and breathe," Finn chuckles. "I was trying to keep it low-key, and I trust you two won't say anything. Wouldn't want to ruin the surprise."
Blaine nods several times, and Sam was sure his friend would crack his neck from how fast his head was moving. "Of course, the surprise is the best part. Oh gosh, we have to help you plan it! Please!" He begs.
"Hell no. It's our own personal moment, and I'm not gonna let you get in the middle of it. That's final," Finn scolds.
Blaine huffs and pouts like a child, crossing his arms and slumping in his seat. Despite his disappointment, he doesn't push the conversation any longer, knowing that Sam's mentor meant business.
"Your hand seriously doesn't hurt?" Finn checks up on Sam once more.
"Seriously," the boxer replies. "I feel like if it gets too messed with then it'll get worse. I'll take you up on the doctor offer later. Let's just celebrate first. What'd you say her name is?"
"Mercedes. Mercedes Jones."
A/N
And that's chapter one! To you Klaine shippers, don't worry about Sebastian, Kurt will swoop in soon enough. To you Quick and Finchel shippers, I hope you appreciated those tiny mentions. And I know what you're thinking. "All these other couples, and there's not even any Mercedes yet?" Fear not, Samcedes fluff will soon be arriving. And of course, mentions of my OTP, Brittana :))))
Anywayyyyy, if you enjoyed, please vote and comment! Happy reading!