Title: Baby Penguin? Yeah, Right

Author: WishesintheNightSky

Rating: T for language and boy love, may change to M later on.

Genre: Romance/Humor

Summary: Mercedes has had enough of that hobbit hurting her Kurtmuffin, so she enlists Puck to help her out with a little revenge. Set after 'Sexy'. Includes sexy!Kurt videos, some drooling!Blaine/Warblers, and more than a little revenge. Eventual Kurt/Puck. Blaine-bashing. Don't like? Don't read.

Author's Note: Okay, those of you who are waiting on The Misadventures of Facebook: Klaine Edition, I am seriously so freakin' sorry. I have a serious case of writer's block with it, I mean, I've gotten Klaine together, what's left to do? So that's on hiatus, if it wasn't already obvious. And as for Hello, Is It Me You're Looking For?, I am doing my best to try and update that, but I highly doubt it'll be anytime soon, I'm sorry. So that'll be on hiatus as well.

As for this, I've been watching Season 2 to fulfill my agony at the Glee hiatus, and I've gotten even more frustrated with Blaine's asshole-ish tendencies, so this came out of that. Sorry if I plagiarized anything from a story you've read/written, it's not intentional, I just write what comes to mind. So yeah. Here we go. Oh wait. Shit.

Disclaimer: I don't own Glee or anything Glee-related. FOX, Ryan Murphy, Ian Brennan, and Brad Falchuk do. So don't sue me. Please? I'm only a newly-turned teenager trying to get a little attention in this world. )':

Chapter One: The Realization, & The Plan

"The hobbit did what?" Mercedes' voice exclaimed from the speakers of Kurt's iPhone. The countertenor barely moved his head from its place on the table, only letting out a weary groan.

"For the last time, 'Cedes, he told me my sexy faces made me look like I was having gas pains," Kurt answered in a whisper, embarrassed.

He glanced around the Lima Bean shiftily, blushing a bright crimson as he wondered if anyone had heard. And judging by the barista's sympathetic gaze, she had heard every single word. The porcelain-skinned teen flushed even further.

"Now, can we please stop talking about this? The barista is giving me these pitying looks, and I'd rather not have her come over here to offer some sort of consolation speech," he snapped testily into the phone, sinking down into his chair in humiliation.

"Aw, hell to the no! Don't think this conversation's over, white boy. The hobbit's hurt you too much already—I would know, I've heard you cry over him too many times now—, and he ain't getting off with some freakin' slap to the hand, and a 'don't effin' do it again'. You and I are proving him wrong on this, and then you're going to drop him like a last season Prada bag, alright?" she demanded, her tone heading into that determined 'you better listen to me, white boy' zone that Kurt had heard many times since they had first become friends. He knew she wouldn't change her mind about this, but he still tried to convince her to, despite his knowledge that his efforts were wasted on the proud, curvy girl.

"Come on, Mercedes, Blaine is my best friend—excepting you, of course," he added calmly, well aware of the fact that she wouldn't speak to him for a week if she thought anyone else was taking her place as the best friend in his life.

"I don't want to lose him over something as stupid as him finding no sexual appeal in myself. Even if I've been in love with him since the first freakin' time I saw him, and him thinking that I'm not sexy at all hurts me more than losing my wardrobe would—yes, I'm absolutely serious about that," Kurt told the black diva, knowing that she was doubtful about anything hurting worse than his clothes getting taken away, after all, they had cost a fortune—well, out of his dad's paycheck, anyway.

"—something as petty as this just isn't worth risking his friendship for," he finished softly, though he was seriously considering the idea that maybe it was.

"I know you, Kurt. This isn't just about him thinking you're not sexy—which I know you are, so I don't know what kind of drug that hobbit's on—, it's about him flirting with you so much, then ending up trying to seduce some fugly older dude with a terrible haircut at the GAP. It's about him telling you that he didn't want to screw your friendship up, and then end up making out with Rachel Effin' Berry and thinking he was bisexual. It's freakin' about him seeming to not give a damn about how you feel anymore, Kurt." Each word was like a knife jabbing into his heart, and by the end of her rant, Kurt was ready to start full-on crying, but he hid it well enough, not wanting to tear up in a public place.

He knew she was right, though. Blaine kept taking his heart, which he had given willingly, and smashing it into millions of pieces over and over again.

As overdramatic as it sounded, it was literally how he felt every time the curly-haired Warbler appeared to not even take his feelings into consideration. It had been that way from the start, Kurt had known it since the time they'd confronted Karofsky on that staircase, and when he'd felt like crap, all Blaine had done was to buy him stupid lunch. Seriously, he was sitting there, crying because a bully who was apparently so trapped in the closet, he was in fuckin' Narnia, had stolen his first boy kiss, and all the Warbler did was say he'd pay for lunch, and start walking the freak away?

But Kurt supposed the reason why he didn't complain about any of this sooner was because he had met the first out guy his age ever, and just thought that he'd automatically be his knight in shining armor, or, er, blazer, so he went through the motions with a smile, trying to make himself fall in love with his 'gay mentor', even though it was probably only his deluded fantasy. Blaine would save him from the evil bullies, and they'd ride away into the sunset and live happily ever after. Which was actually a stupid thing to dream of, especially since Blaine was a year younger than he was.

If the roles had been reversed, maybe they could have had a happy ending from the start, but they weren't. And right now, it all just seemed like a big, chaotic mess.

"Even if you're right, and I said if," Kurt emphasized on the word, stopping Mercedes from letting out a smug, victorious, 'ha!' that he really didn't feel like hearing.

"How in the name of Jacobs are we supposed to make him think I'm sexy, when I know I'm not? I have the sexy factor of some baby penguin from the local zoo," he grumbled unhappily, rubbing a tired hand across his face. His grande, non-fat mocha was getting cold, but Kurt wasn't in the mood for coffee anymore. All this talk of Blaine was starting to make him even more depressed than he already was.

"Don't worry, white boy, leave that all up to me. I've already got a plan," Mercedes answered back, both sly and vague at the same time. Kurt immediately felt the dread creep into his stomach.

"Oh no, I know that tone, Merce, that's how you sound when you know you're up to no good," the countertenor replied, his voice higher-pitched than usual, as it always went whenever he was nervous or excited, and this time, he definitely wasn't excited to know what she had in mind for a revenge plan.

"Oh, just trust me, Kurt, have I ever let you down?" she asked rhetorically, before hanging up, as proved by the dial tone ringing in Kurt's ear. He sat, frozen for a moment, phone still held up to his face, before he placed it back onto the table, glasz eyes still staring blankly into space.

"Why do I have a feeling this is not going to end well?" he spoke to himself, paying no heed to the odd glances from those sitting near him.

This was going to have a bad ending, his well-sharpened intuition told him so. Kurt took a sip from his cup of coffee, only to choke at the lukewarm taste right afterward.

Oh well, if I'm gonna go down, might as well go down in a humorous way, right? Kurt mused, grimace on his lips.

"Puckerman?" Kurt questioned, horrified, as he took in the sight of the mohawked boy, hazel eyes crinkling in amusement at his obviously stricken expression, looking a gruff and 'badass' as ever. This was not what he had expected to find in Mercedes' so-called "plan" when she had asked him to meet her in the auditorium at McKinley after school. He almost immediately regretted ever doing so in the first place. He should have known her crazy antics would lead to something similar to this.

"Nice to see you, too, Princess," Puck said sarcastically, hands stuffed into the pockets of his baggy blue jeans.

"Mercedes, have you lost your mind?" the chestnut-haired boy blatantly ignored her indignant huff, as well as her glare as she rested her hands on her hips, instead gazing at her incredulously. "How in the hell is Puck supposed to help prove to Blaine that I'm...'sexy'?" Kurt flung air-quotes around the offending word.

"Wait, is that what I'm here for? I thought you were organizing some kind of orgy, and wanted me to come with," Puck droned in a bored voice, cocking his head curiously at the two divas.

"Ugh, of course your neanderthal mind would go there," Kurt remarked disgustedly, sneering at him. The self-proclaimed badass only raised an eyebrow at him in response. "And even if that were true, why would we ever invite you to join?" the countertenor asked bitchily, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Um, because the Puckzilla is a total sex-shark?" Puck told him matter-of-factly, wiggling his brows suggestively. Kurt made a sound of disdain in return. "Oh come on, look at these guns," he unashamedly made a show of flexing his biceps. "Who wouldn't want to spend a night or two with these?"

"Okay, really? You have got to get over yourself, Puckerman. You're not all that attractive," Kurt retorted, disregarding that little, annoying voice in the back of his head that told him, oh yes, yes he was. Puck was in no way sexually appealing to him at all. Just like how Kurt was in no way sexually appealing to Blaine. No, he wasn't in denial. That was most definitely the truth. He even internally gave a nod of his head, affirming the mental statement.

"Oh please, you know you're tempted by the Puckasaurus, Hummel," Puck threw back with an arrogant smirk, leaning in closer. Kurt only scoffed at him, rolling his eyes in annoyance.

"Could you two stop flirting for just a sec, and let me tell you what I've got in mind for revenge on the hobbit?" Mercedes cut in, exasperated. Kurt instantly jumped away from the mohawked teenager, blushing slightly, only now noticing just how close they had gotten to each other. Puck just looked at her with a smug, close-lipped smile.

"I-I, we were not flirting!" Kurt spluttered, a bit over-defensively, mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water. They hadn't been, right? The glasz-eyed Warbler glanced over to Puck worriedly, thinking back to their interaction. Well, maybe Puckerman had been flirting, but that was his natural self. He was just a manwhore, it's what he did.

"Sure, you weren't," the black girl consoled with a sigh, looking about ready to roll her eyes at him. "Now, do you want to hear what I've got planned, or don't you?"

"Of course I do!" Kurt quickly reaffirmed. "I just don't see how Puckerman fits into all of it!"

"Well, if you'd let me talk, white boy, maybe you'd figure it out," she snapped back at him. Kurt threw his hands up in surrender, not wanting her to get angry. He'd seen what Mercedes was like when she was in a bad mood, and it sure wasn't a pretty sight.

"Anyways, like I was gonna say, I was thinking, has Blaine, hell, the Warblers, ever actually seen you sing something that wasn't a show tune, or an oldies song—by yourself?" she specified when Kurt opened his mouth, no doubt to state the performances that the Warblers had done. Reluctantly, the countertenor shook his head. Mercedes grinned in satisfaction. "Well, why don't we show them?"

"What exactly are you talking about, 'Cedes?" Kurt pried, tapping his foot against the floor.

"If they haven't seen you perform, and I mean really perform, then why don't we show them a few videos of you doing what you do best?" Mercedes mock-innocently suggested, a mischievous glint in her chocolate brown eyes.

"And how exactly are we supposed to do that?" he drawled, Ice-Queen bitch facade dropping into place.

"That's where Puckerman comes in," she motioned to the aforementioned boy with a tilt of her head. "I happen to know that Sue spies on every glee club performance, just to dig up some dirt on us, and videotapes all of them. Brittany told me the other day—well, she was trying not to, but she ended up dishing anyway."

"And what am I supposed to do about that?" Puck finally spoke, slowly and warily, as he stared at Mercedes with a questioning gaze.

"You are going to sneak into her office and steal those tapes," she replied simply.

"Like fuck am I gonna do that!" he exclaimed. Even Kurt was looking at her with an 'are you crazy?' expression. "If Sue catches me, which I know she will, since the bitch has got eyes fuckin' everywhere, she's gonna rat me out to the cops, and I'm gonna get sent back to juvie. I don't fuckin' like juvie, okay?" Puck whimpered, fear in his eyes. "It smells like a shithole there, some thugs fuckin' tore out my nipple ring, and they kept stealing my waffles," he whined, pouting in a very unlike-Puck manner.

"Well, we all know how much you love your waffles," Kurt mocked tauntingly. Puck growled, yes, growled, like a fuckin' animal, before pouncing toward the smaller boy. Mercedes had to physically restrain him from getting any closer, and he calmed down, even if his posture was still tense.

"Don't fuckin' mess with me, Hummel," he muttered. Mercedes glared at him in warning, and he shut his mouth closed, though he was glaring at Kurt venomously. The countertenor did the same.

"You two, stop fighting. And Puck, you are going to do this," she said obstinately. Kurt recognized her determination, and already figured that there was no stopping her from going on with this plan. Puck, however, wasn't so intuitive.

"Oh yeah? Says who?" he stepped forward threateningly, but Mercedes knew that he wouldn't dare to hit a girl.

"Says me," she told him in a sickeningly sweet voice. "And you owe me."

"For what?" he groaned in an irritated tone.

"For using me to get back that stupid badass reputation of yours after you shaved your mohawk off when you didn't even need to," she shot at him, knowing she had him, hook, line, and sinker.

Puck stared at her for a long moment, before he huffed resignedly.

"I knew I shouldn't have done that," he grumbled petulantly, rubbing his temple, before gazing back at Mercedes and Kurt. "So, when are we gonna do this?"

Mercedes' answering grin told him that this couldn't end well.

Well? What'd you think? Yeah, the ending was kinda rushed, but I got a little lazy. Other than that, though, I'd love to hear your opinion. (: I'm not a big fan of continuing things that haven't garnered any good attention, so I really would appreciate knowing what you think. And yes, this will end in PucKurt/Pummel. No Klaine ending. If you don't want that, then you should probably stop reading, but give it a shot, would you?

Oh! and PS. I am in desperate need of a beta. I've never had one before, and I really would like someone who could read over my stuff before I post it. I'd rather not embarrass myself by having lots of grammar errors, or really bad plot/story mistakes, y'know? :P

So yeah, peace out!

Love, Cheri Mae.