the dalton fight club

I can totally see it.

The Warblers. All shirtless and shoeless, raging against each other in some storage room or something under Dalton, all sweaty and wild and undapper. And than, all of a sudden, Blaine whips out his pocket watch out of his sweatpants, nonchalantly wipes off the blood from his lip, blazers up within half a second - completely ignoring all the sweat as he does so - turns around, puts on a charming, puppy grin and snaps his fingers. “Okay, boys, that’s enough for tonight. Get your blazers. We’ve got that Gene and Judy medley to perform at the seniors center in half an hour.”

And than they all just smile and nod and leave as if they spent the last hour taking care of newborn kittens.