A/N: Written for this prompt at the LJ fluff meme: "It's Nationals time, and EVERYTHING is going wrong. Sam and Quinn are screaming at each other in the dressing room, Mike has a sore ankle, Brittany is lost somewhere, Blaine is feeling guilty, Kurt is fending off a Dalton Intervention (and getting bitchier by the minute), Rachel and Santana are about to claw each others' eyes out, and Finn's costume is too small. To make matters worse, Jesse St James has flown in from LA to oversee the competition, and makes everything a million times worse. Mr Schuester is on the verge of a nervous breakdown, so the duty of getting everyone's shit together and winning Nationals falls to an unlikely hero: Noah Puckerman. Bonus for him offering to have sex with everyone in the room if only they will please, PLEASE just get on stage already (double bonus for at least one person taking him up on the offer)." I couldn't resist adding the Sam/Kurt bit. It's a compulsion, really, to add a Kurt pairing to everything. Warnings: I pretty much ignore everything I don't like in the series and pretend it never happened. Blaine doesn't even exist in this story (AU from NBK, I guess). Slightly crack-ish. And very quickly written cause I thought the prompt was funny.
Who You Gonna Call?
Noah Puckerman's head is throbbing. He isn't babysitting his sister, or cleaning his room, or taking a math test. No, he's witnessing the total shit show that is New Directions getting ready to perform at Sectionals. They have ten minutes until it's finally their turn to perform, and no one is ready. At all. Puck looks to Mr. Schuester, waiting for him to start getting the gang in order, but all the older man is doing is staring at his cell phone like it's going to save the world right that minute. Puck sighs.
He looks to Finn, the other "leader" of their little team, and rolls his eyes. The giant teen is tugging at his dress pants, willing them to go past his ankles. As a matter of fact, it seems the jock's whole costume is too small.
His next bet is to enlist Rachel Berry's help. He glances over to where he can hear the loud voice ring out, and immediately jumps from his seat. The last thing he needs is to be charged for blood on the carpet in the dressing room after Santana literally claws Rachel's eyes out.
"Hey!" He exclaims, pulling the Latina to the other side of the room. "You. Sit here."
Santana glares at him and crosses her arms.
As Puck moves to go see about Rachel, Mike Chang hobbles in front of him. "What's wrong with you?" Puck asks.
"I don't know, I think I hurt my ankle," Mike replies.
"Well you're just going to have to unhurt it in the next seven minutes," Puck demands. He's just about to ask Rachel to help him round up the group when a blood-curdling scream erupts from the corner of the room.
"You slept with who?" Quinn yells, face turning an angry shade of red.
Sam winces at the volume of his – now ex – girlfriend's voice. "Listen, Quinn – "
"No! You listen, you ungrateful little snit – "
"Ungrateful? Oh, yeah, I'm so grateful that you tease me all fucking day long and then just leave me hanging. If you'd walk the fucking walk once in a while I wouldn't have had to sleep with Hummel!"
Puck felt nauseous and everyone turned to look at the countertenor as he froze, cell phone poised against his ear.
"I don't want to make this worse," Artie speaks up, "but Brittany is missing."
Puck groans and Santana gets up to look for the missing Cheerio. Sam and Quinn go back to yelling at each other and Mercedes leads Kurt over to a chair, as the boy looks like he might faint.
Puck is just about to announce that they only have five minutes when none other than Jesse St. James waltzes into the dressing room. Finn looks immediately annoyed.
"What are you dong here?" The quarterback asks, standing in front of the douchebag who broke Rachel's heart.
"It doesn't matter," Puck interrupts. "Get the fuck out of here." He shoves hard at Jesse's shoulder, successfully forcing the boy out of the room.
"Can everyone PLEASE just shut up!" Puck shouts.
The group looks at him, wide eyed.
"We have to be on stage in two minutes. Now, if you all go on stage right now, I'll have sex with you. All of you. I promise. Please, please just get on stage."
Everyone begins to shuffle out of the room, muttering to themselves and looking at Puck like he might snap again. Puck rolls his eyes and finishes buttoning his own shirt before rubbing a hand over his mohawk. He hears Artie clear his throat.
"What?" Puck asks, moving behind the nerd to push him out on stage.
"I'm in room 114," Artie informs him. "A promise is a promise, after all."
Puck sighs and shakes his head. He ain't even mad.
