So, after Kurt joined the boys in their attempt to go all Braveheart on Vocal Adrenaline, I couldn't get the thought of Kurt actually going all Braveheart on someone out of my head. And instead of just writing some boring scenes about Kurt punching guys in the face (like that could ever actually be boring), I figured I would write a "Five and One" fic, because those are rapidly becoming my favorite kind of fic to write. This is a "Five and Two" fic instead I suppose.

The first memory Kurt has of someone punching him is from Kindergarten. They were playing basketball in gym, and while Kurt didn't really like sports, basketball was the one sport that didn't make him want to throw up on his shoes most of the time, and all the other boys were doing it anyway, so he supposed he could sink down to their level just this once.

It happened suddenly, almost too suddenly for Kurt to really comprehend. One second, he's celebrating a basket with his team, and the next he's bent double, wheezing to get his breath as David steps away from him, fists balled up.

"Watch yourself, runt," he growls, and shoves Kurt hard, "You almost ran into me. Do it again, and there's more where that came from."

Kurt doesn't know what he did wrong, but all the other boys are backing off towards the other end of the court, none of them looking to interfere, and all Kurt can do is cross his arms over his stomach to protect it from further blows and attempt to look defiant. David, almost twice Kurt's size, glares for a few seconds longer before stalking off to join the other boys, all of whom refuse to meet Kurt's eyes.

Kurt excuses himself from the game, one of the subs eagerly taking his place, and tells the gym teacher, a nice lady with a nose that's too small for her face and what could only be described as what Kurt's dad calls a Jew-fro, that he has to go to the bathroom. When he escapes to the hallway though, he heads in the opposite direction, seeking refuge in the coatroom of their classroom. He's still small enough that with some wiggling, he can fit into the tiny space between the heater and the wall.

The wall feels solid and cool against his arm, and it calms him down a little as he curls over his stomach, blinking furiously to hold back tears. It doesn't really hurt that much anymore, but he's still so surprised by the punch that he doesn't know what to do but sit here in the silence and think that Dave Karofsky is a big meany head.

When he gets home that afternoon, he takes out his frustrations on his bedroom wall, furiously kicking it until his dad comes pounding down the stairs, looking worried, then curious as he watches Kurt land kick after powerful kick against the wall.

"Hey, hey, buddy, what's wrong?" he says, grabbing his son gently by the shoulders to turn him away from the wall to look at him. He's so tiny, he thinks as he tries to get Kurt to meet his eyes. His son mumbles something, and Burt goes down on his knees to hear him better.

"I hate Dave," Kurt says, and Burt feels an instant flare of anger at this boy who has made his son feel like this, but there's nothing he can do but hug Kurt and try to think of a way to keep him from kicking a hole in the wall, because, wow, the kid could swing that leg.

"Why don't you come outside, buddy?" he says, and Kurt raises an inquisitive eyebrow at him, a habit he must have picked up from his mom. "I don't think your mom will be very happy if you break the house, will she?" he said, and Kurt gives a small, sad smile before he starts toward the stairs with his dad's arm still around his shoulders.

They spend the next few hours out in the back yard, Burt teaching Kurt how to properly step up to the football, and then watching in amazement as he sent kick after kick over the hedge, using the beat of the songs on the radio to properly set his feet in rhythm. Lucy comes home about an hour into the time, and she joins them in the back, laughing at Kurt's puzzled enjoyment and Burt's pride.

Kurt doesn't remember the punch until he goes to bed that night, and that night he dreams of violence and anger. As the years pass, he begins to think of himself as a prophet.

The first time that Kurt really gets beat up is in April of third grade. A bunch of the boys catch him on the playground after school, and Kurt only fights back through the first few punches before he curls in on himself and lets the hits and kicks land.

Even when they're done, Kurt lays on the ground, breathing hard in an attempt to regain his breath and keep from crying. As they walk away, he can hear Karofsky, as he insists on being called now, laughing and high-fiving Noah as the small group heads back towards the front of the school.

"Nice one, Puck," he said, and Kurt thinks that this new name for Noah is almost as stupid as his haircut and he hates it. What kind of third-grader has a Mohawk?

The group has barely made it around the corner of the school when Kurt sees Quinn coming towards him, and he hates this even more. Because he knows what's coming. His best friend has been getting distant lately, as she heads toward popular and Kurt heads toward punching bag, but he was hoping maybe he'd at least make it through the school year before he had this conversation.

"Hey, Kurt. Umm, I sorta need to talk to you about something," she said, and Kurt can barely meet her eyes as she tells him that she really does like him, but she likes Noah and Finn and Santana too, and they don't like Kurt that much, so she thinks that maybe they shouldn't be friends anymore. It'd just be easier for both of them.

All Kurt can do is nod mutely, and then Quinn's gone without even helping him up, running to catch up with No-, Puck and the others. Kurt misses her already, but he'll be damned if she ever knows that.

He lays there for a while, the late spring heat rebounding off the pavement and into his body. He lets the anger and sadness run off of him until all he can feel is loneliness, making his skin feel cold. The pavement is scorching against his cheek. It feels like he lies there for hours, but it can't be much longer than fifteen minutes.

At dinner that night, Kurt doesn't tell his dad about the fight (fight seems like the wrong word, but calling it an attack makes him feel weak), even when he asks about the scrape on his cheek or the hole in his jeans. That night, he tells the story to his mom in a whisper so quiet he wonders if she can hear him from heaven. Kurt can't figure out if he wants her to or not.

It's the third game after Kurt joins the football team that he gets tackled for the first time. It's his third field goal of the game, a 27-yarder that he chips in with ease. But several seconds after he's kicked, something collides brutally with him, and he realizes it's a member of the other team as they both crash into the ground, hard.

The hulking opponent uses Kurt's shoulders to push himself up, and he can smell the guy's foul breath as he speaks, "Try that dancing shit one more time, and you'll see what happens," he manages to say and land one good punch just underneath Kurt's shoulder pads before someone pulls him off of Kurt violently. Kurt rolls over and curls into himself, never imagining that his body could hurt this much.

"Kurt? Kurt, man, you got to get up," he hears Mike say before him and Finn pull Kurt off of the ground. Kurt looks up to see Puck and Matt shoving the Neanderthal who'd tackled him as the ref tried to break them up. He looked around for the flash of yellow he knew should be on the field, and there it was, feet from where he stood.

Kurt's breathing hard, because he's hurt and terrified and confused, and then Finn and Mike are helping him off the field and Coach Tanaka makes him sit on the bench and looks at him with actual concern. When the offense stalls again, Coach attempts to send someone else out to kick, but Kurt defiantly puts his helmet on and heads out to his spot.

His eyes find the eyes of the opponent who smashed through the line, and as Kurt cues the music, he can see the other player grin. But Kurt just tries to remember the way his dad taught him in the backyard, just three simple steps to the beat of the song, and the kick is on it's way, and the Neanderthal doesn't get close to Kurt as Matt throws a block that Kurt is pretty sure is highly illegal.

But Matt just turns and winks and Finn nods in a manly way, and Kurt feels a little bit better because not only are they winning 12-7 now, but the Neanderthal's teammates are still trying to scrape him off the turf. When he gets to the bench though, he can barely sit up straight and he's glad that he doesn't have to kick any more field goals.

After the game, none of the guys give Kurt any crap, because you don't give crap to the guy who wins you football games (plus Matt punches Nooks, who tries to make a crack about Kurt when he has trouble pulling his shirt over the new bruises on his torso).

That night, he doesn't tell his dad about the bruises lining his sides, even though his dad rants for the entire ride home about talentless morons who have no respect for the rules or the way the game is meant to be played. Kurt doesn't think he's ever loved him so much.

He tosses and turns all night trying to find a way to be comfortable, but he can't fall asleep until around three, when the door of the basement opens to reveal his dad, holding an ice pack and wearing a worried expression. When he sees the bruises, he just shakes his head and retrieves a towel from Kurt's bathroom.

Wrapping it around his son's middle, he pulls Kurt to his chest and holds him there as he moves the ice pack all along his sides, telling him stories about his own football injuries back in the day. He must do this all night, because when Kurt wakes up late Saturday morning, he's still snuggled up against his dad's chest, the ice pack sitting melted and forgotten in his hand.

Kurt goes back to sleep, thinking of all the excellently foul names his father called the Neanderthal.

The first time Kurt gets beat up since he started hanging out with Matt and Mike is after school on a Monday in early December after the first big snow of the winter. He'd seen several of the hockey players pelting a geeky freshman with snowballs and he'd made one of his own to nail a couple of the jocks in the back of the head with.

Kurt thinks of himself as a protector. He might not be able to fight off their tormentors, but if he's getting hit, then someone else isn't. So he accepts his role and his lumps with as much dignity as he can muster.

And lumps does he receive when the hockey players turn their attention toward him. When they're finished, they walk off laughing, and Kurt is glad that they're at the back of the building, so that he doesn't have to get up right away, he can just lie there in his pain for a minute or two.

He thanks whatever fashion god led him to wear a t-shirt today, so he can easily pull it up and lie in the snow, letting the cold help keep the swelling and bruises minor. The intense cold chases some of the pain away, and Kurt is finally able to muster a full breath. It's instantly stolen again when he hears her voice.

"Kurt?" Mercedes asked, and Kurt sighed as he rolled over to face his best friend.

"Hey, 'Cedes," he said trying to force a smile, but Mercedes isn't buying it.

"Names. Now, Hummel," she continued as he shook his head.

"Don't worry about it, 'Cedes. It's not a big deal," he said, sitting up with a handful of hard packed snow to hold against his ribs.

"Not a big deal! Kurt, boy, you're laying in the snow, covered in bruises the size of Puck's ego! In what psychotic alternate universe are you living in that this isn't a big damn deal?"

Kurt sighed, pushing himself out of the snow and pulling his shirt back down around his midriff, "Listen, Mercedes. I love you, and I love how concerned you are, but this isn't a big deal. It happens sometimes. These hockey guys were picking on a freshman, and I stepped in. It's not fun, but it's what I do. It's my way of protecting people.

I can't physically protect them, but if the jocks are focused on me, then they leave the others alone. If I'm getting hit, that means other people aren't," he said, and realized just how cold he was an instant before Mercedes pulled him into a tight embrace, almost instantly warming him up. Ignoring his aching stomach and chest, he hugged her back as she spoke.

"Kurt Hummel, that is easily one of the most messed up, sweetest things I've ever heard. I don't think I've ever been prouder to be your best friend," she moved him out to arm's length to look him in the eyes, "But if you do not give me names this instant, I will go all angry black girl on your skinny ass."

Kurt didn't know whether to sigh or laugh, so he did a little of both as he told her the four names. She whipped out her phone instantly, but refused to tell him what she was doing no matter how much he begged. Mercedes promised him he'd find out tomorrow at school.

And he did. All four hockey players were looking significantly worse for the wear the next day, walking with a limp or trying to see through a swelled up, puffy eye. He didn't know quite what the deal was until he's walking down the hallway with Mercedes and he sees one of the jocks cringe as he walks past Mike and Matt. They're both glaring at the jock.

"What did you do?" Kurt asked Mercedes as they approached the other two.

"I didn't do anything except inform Matt and Mike of the situation. And perhaps suggest that they kick some ass."

"I told you it wasn't a big deal. What if they get in trouble?" Kurt said, but Mike cut him off.

"Listen, man, people know that you don't mess with our friends. You lay a finger on them, we lay fists on you. That's how this thing works. We're like bodyguards, man. We kick ass," he said, and Matt nodded. Kurt turned to Mercedes.

"And you know that nobody touches my boy and gets away with it," she said, and Kurt really, really wants to hug all three of them, but he doesn't think that Mike and Matt would appreciate that, even if they are friends, so he contents himself with swinging an arm over Mercedes's shoulders.

Getting beat up sucks, but his friends don't.

The first time that Kurt gets beat up after joining the Cheerios is on the one day in four months where he doesn't have Glee or Cheerios practice after school. There's some kind of meeting that all the teachers are required to attend, and for once, Coach Sylvester isn't an exception.

Three jocks catch him outside the locker room after his last period gym class, and when they've finished, Kurt's left on the linoleum floor, trying to stem the blood flowing from his nose and split lip. His nose isn't broken, which is fortunate, because he can already tell that his lip will be swelled up for a couple days.

When he hears footsteps coming down the hallway towards him. Kurt rests his forehead against the cold linoleum, praying to anyone that's listening that it's not Mercedes. He's not sure he could handle it at that moment.

"Kurt?" said the owner of the footsteps, and he has to hold back a groan. Of all the people to find him lying on the floor, bleeding heavily, it had to be her.

"Shit, you're bleeding!" Quinn said in alarm as she stooped down to his level, one hand setting on top of her stomach as the other reaches out for his shoulder.

"Nice observation," he said, trying with all his might to keep the sadness out of his voice.

"Here, let me help you," she said, and she pulls on his shoulders until he sits up and leans against the wall. She slides down next to him, eyes fixed on the small pool of his blood left on the floor, "Does this happen often?"

"Getting beat up or the blood? The getting beat up happens a couple times a month, unless I do something to rile them up. The bleeding hasn't happened in a while. They caught me by surprise, or I would have been able to block the first blow to my face."

Quinn looks just a little bit sick, but Kurt convinces himself it's just something to do with the baby. They sit in silence for a few seconds, Kurt still trying to stop the bleeding and Quinn resting her hands protectively over her stomach.

"Mercedes and I are friends now," she said, and for a moment, she feels like a 1st grader again, that statement sounding so simple and childish in this circumstance. Kurt just nods before she continues, "And I've been thinking a lot lately, about us. You and I. Because we're probably going to be seeing a lot more of each other now, you being her best friend and all." Kurt just nodded again, and he looks so small and sad and broken, hunched up against the wall with his own blood pooling in his palm that he reminds her of that sad little boy she left lonely on the playground all those years ago. She pulls a Kleenex out of her purse and hands it to him.

"I was a dumb bitch in 3rd grade," she said, and he looked at her in surprise, "I was. If I had any sense at all, I would have told Puck and Santana to go screw themselves, and I never would have abandoned you. You were my best friend, and it shouldn't have mattered to me what they thought of you. Or me, for that matter. But it did. You had been so sad lately, what with your mom and all, and they had been so mean to you, and told me to stop hanging out with you if I wanted to be their friend, and all I wanted was for as many people to like me as I could manage, and I threw away the best friend I'd ever had just because I wanted to be popular. Being popular sucks." Kurt's still looking at her strange, but she just fights back tears and continues.

"I'm so sorry, Kurt. And I know that you can't forgive me now, or anytime soon for that matter, and that we'll never be friends again, but I just wanted you to know that I've never been more sorry about anything in my entire life. Anything," she emphasized when Kurt's eyes stray to her stomach.

"I forgive you," he said, voice shaking slightly, and it's her turn to look surprised, "What good does it do to stay mad at you? I forgave you that first day, Quinnie," he said, her pet name still feeling natural on his tongue despite the fact that he hadn't used it in seven years, "We were growing up, and I knew it was coming, because you were cool and I was weird, and it did hurt when you did it, but I could never stay mad at you. Don't you ever think that we couldn't be friends again. Sure, I've been angry and sad and confused about it for a long time, but friends forgive each other, even if it takes a while for them to do it."

Quinn is actually crying now, and she wraps her arms around his torso and buries her face in his shoulder. And as his free arm wraps protectively around her, his large hand spanning over her back and rubbing slightly, she realizes just how much she'd missed his hugs. Kurt Hummel gives the best hugs of anyone on the entire planet.

As Quinn cries into his shoulder, Kurt is reminded so strongly of the girl with the green eyes and blond pigtails that he'd been friends with back in grade school that he has to hold back his own tears. He remembers all the times Mr. Schue had paired them up for choreography in Glee, as though he knew that these two were separated by a seven year gulf and he was personally trying to bridge that gap for them. He remembers the tears in her eyes during "Keep Holding On". He had never in his life wanted to hold her and tell her everything would be all right more then in that moment.

He's startled out of his thoughts by her voice, "When I found out that I was pregnant, you were the first person I thought to tell. Not Finn, not Puck, not my parents. You. Is that crazy? We hadn't talked in almost seven years when I found out. But I didn't want to tell anybody else. You were the only one I felt safe telling."

"That's not crazy at all. When I first heard about it, I almost called you that night, to see if you wanted to talk. I knew that Finn probably wasn't the best at the whole listening thing, and I knew you couldn't tell your parents. What are former best friends that you haven't talked to in seven years for?"

Quinn laughed and hugged him tighter, and Kurt rested his head against hers, trying hard to not get blood on her hair. This felt right, this being here with her, holding her as she smiled. This was how things were supposed to be.

The first time Kurt punched somebody, it was in defense of Rachel Berry. They still hadn't been able to exact any kind of revenge on Vocal Adrenaline for their egg throwing, and it was starting to make New Directions antsy. Kurt was waiting in line at Subway when the guy behind him in line spoke up, and he looked over his shoulder to recognize one of the guys from VA. What the hell was he doing in Lima?

"You go to McKinley High, right? You're in the Glee Club," he said, and laughed as Kurt just glared at him, "Man, we got you guys so good. And then we beat you! Turns out you guys aren't as good at psyching people out as you thought. Or singing. Though it's really no wonder you guys lost, with that overdramatic, talentless hack Berry up there, wailing away. God, do you even know how easy it was for Jesse to manipulate her? She must be-," but Kurt never found out what the dark-haired boy thought Rachel must be, because at that moment, clenching his hands tightly wasn't enough, and at the same time he spun around to face the other boy, he cocked his fist and punched the Vocal Adrenaline son of a bitch in the face- hard. The kid dropped like a rock, hand flying up to try and stem the flow of blood already coming out of his nose.

"Listen to me, you asshole. Rachel Berry is many things, but she is neither talentless nor a hack. And yes, sometimes she is a solo-stealing, attention-whoring, occasionally bitchy diva, but when she's not being those things, she is almost kind of my friend, and she is always my teammate! And people don't mess with my teammates.

That girl is going places, while you, you arrogant, self-centered bastard, are probably going to end up asking people if they'd like to Supersize that! So next time you even think of talking about anyone in New Directions, you should first consider if you like the current arrangement of your face. Because I knocked you on your ass, and there are guys in New Directions with a lot more experience then me and biceps bigger then my head," Kurt finished, before storming out of the Subway, feeling the stares of everyone as he left.

Kurt didn't feel hungry anymore. But damn if he didn't feel proud. Just wait until he told his dad and the Glee Club about this.

The second time he punched someone, it was in defense of Mercedes and Quinn. Because nobody, not even hulking, hockey player jackass Dave Karofsky, who'd been the first ever person to punch Kurt, got away with talking about his girls like that.

"Hey, Hummel!" he heard Karofsky shout from somewhere down the hall, "Off to do more fairy dances with your loser friends? Or maybe to snuggle up with the retard stepbrother of yours?" He just kept walking, Quinn and Mercedes tensing next to him. Ignore him, he's a moron, ignore him, he's a knuckle-dragging moron whose apparently opposed to dental hygiene, he repeated this mantra in his head over and over.

"Hey, Hummel!" he heard Karofsky say from right behind him, "You go fishing this weekend? Cause you seem to have caught yourself a couple of whales," he said, and Kurt doesn't even have time to see red before he reacts.

Karofsky will seriously regret ever opening his fat mouth about Quinn and 'Cedes. He spins, and his fist connects with Karofsky's face, dead center. The punch doesn't floor him like it did the VA kid, but then again, Karofsky's a hockey player and is not listed on any Glee Club roster in America.

But his nose is bleeding slightly and Kurt's smiling as he makes his next move. While most of the school would be surprised if you told them Kurt Hummel could throw a half decent punch, but no one would bat an eyelash if you said he could kick like a mule. They had seen him in action.

And Kurt knows what he's good at, so he takes his three steps up and drives his right foot powerfully into Karofsky's groin, imagining himself kicking a fifty-yard field goal. The larger boy drops to the ground with a sound that could only be described as a combination of a scream and a squeak. It's certainly not manly.

Karofsky looks as if he can't decide if he wants to cry or puke, and Kurt places a foot on his chest, leaning down directly over his face, "If you ever utter so much as another single syllable about my girls, or my family, or my friends, or anyone I happen to be able to tolerate at that moment, I will personally make sure that an itty bitty bloody nose and a purple nutsack are the least of your problems," he said, using his foot to emphasis the important words, "Understand, you idiotic, self-centered, knuckle-dragging, foul-smelling, dog-ugly, repulsive, arrogant son of a bitch?" Karofsky nodded slightly.

"Good. Enjoy infertility," he said, before he walked away, head held high as Mercedes and Quinn followed him, silent in their disbelief. They were a little ways up the hall when they heard Karofsky vomit before breaking down into pain filled sobs. The crowd surrounding him looked as though they weren't sure whether to be scared of Kurt or laugh at Karofsky.

Kurt turned away from Karofsky when he heard Quinn mutter "Thanks," from next to him, and turned, smiling, to look at the two girls.

"Nobody talks about my girls," he said, linking arms with both of them, "That was a pretty good kick."

This makes Quinn and Mercedes laugh. "Pretty good? Boy, I'm pretty sure I heard something crack in there. Forget having kids, Karofsky'll be lucky if he can walk," said Mercedes.

"I think you might have gotten bone," added Quinn, giggling, "But you know Figgins is probably going to want to see you in his office before the end of the day."

Kurt shrugged, "It was worth it. Nobody talks about my girls."

Kurt has always thought of himself as a protector. If he was getting made fun of, if he was getting hit, that meant that someone else wasn't. It was his role. He couldn't physically defend them, but he could help.

But then again, he thought, as Karofsky vomited again, maybe he didn't always have to be the protector. Maybe sometimes he got to be the protectee. And maybe sometimes, he did get to protect them with his fists rather then theirs.

So, Kurt Hummel is pretty much officially my favorite character to write ever. I tried to have some angst in this story, but it ended up kind of happy. Ooops. There is some angst, which was fun to write though, and Kurt/Quinn/Mercedes friendship is always fun to write. Plus Matt/Mike/Mercedes/Kurt friendship. Also fun. Don't forget to review to tell me what you thought, and to be on the lookout for my other Glee fics. Cause seriously, like 27 plot bunnies in my head right now.

Also, I know Finn said that they only won one football game, but Kurt Hummel is just too awesome to lose football games. Plus, it fit better for the story.