Author's Note: Not mine. Just gently using before returning.
"Finn," a voice hissed as he was yanked through the open doorway of the janitor's closet.
"Dude, Kurt, what the hell?"
The male diva straightened his sleeve by way of apology. "Sorry, Finn, but I needed to talk to you privately."
"Okay?" This was making him a little uncomfortable. Kurt's eyes were doing that crazy, stalker look that they used to do before the Gaga fiasco. He backed up a step and nearly knocked over a delicately arranged stand of mops.
"Have you seen Sam today?"
"This isn't about me?" His answer was a glare. "Oh, thank god. I mean…not that…" he finished with a helpless shrug.
Kurt rolled his eyes and continued onward. "I wouldn't have risked this kind of cliché if the matter wasn't bigger than the both of us. I repeat, did you see Sam today?"
"Yeah, sure. Why?"
"Did you notice his new haircut?" Kurt's foot began to tap, kinda like Rachel's did when she was waiting for one of her videos to upload.
Not really, Finn thought to himself. "I guess. He probably should get a new barber."
"Guess Karofsky will have to erase that job from his future employment options."
"The football team did this? But Sam's on the team."
"He's also getting tutored so he can stay on the team, remember?"
Of course Finn remembered. Sam had been over to the house every night this week. Something about a big test in Chemistry.
Kurt began to pace in what little space was available. "Sam made the mistake of telling them who his tutor was. And then, he stuck up for me when they inevitably started denigrating me. Like I am some damsel in distress that needs protecting from the mouth-breathers of McKinley!"
"Wow, Kurt, that really sucks for Sam." Never one to back down from a challenge, he added, "But you have to admit, it was kinda cool what he did."
"Of course it was cool. It was also chivalrous, brave, and totally moronic. Didn't you explain the social order to him?" Kurt rounded on Finn like it was his fault. Finn flinched and down went the mops.
"Yeah, but Sam mostly makes up his own mind about stuff."
"Well, there is nothing left to do about it then. I am just going to have to take matters into my own hands. Finn, can you get Puck to meet us after school?"
"As long as we don't make him late for football practice."
"This whole thing depends on him making it to practice. Now if you'll excuse me, I still need to get home and grab some tools before lunch is over."
"Okay?"
Kurt walked around him to leave. Finn started to follow him out, but a casual, "You should probably pick those up," stopped him in his tracks.
"Oh, man."
In the end, it was decided that Finn would play lookout, instead of Puck. After the story of Finn's desperate attempt to join the Cheerios squad had circulated, it was totally believable that he would want to mope around the field like a fucking wussy. Or at least that was what Puck had said. Puck could skip practice and no one except the coach would really care. There also wasn't any danger that the players would realize Puck was Kurt's accomplice. Only Glee, after all, knew the whole story behind the rash of car problems that had plagued the football and hockey teams all winter long. Burt Hummel had made a tidy profit last year and Puck had earned a sizable portion of it. The only part of this plan that sucked, Finn realized, was that the two boys wouldn't let him in on the prank. Kurt had said something about his deplorable acting skills. Puck just said they didn't want to give the game away.
Finn glanced down at his cellphone and sent the five minute warning bell. Soon enough, Coach Beaste sounded the whistle and the team headed for the showers. Poor Sam of the shaved head stood out like a sore thumb. He was also the last one into the locker room. The guys were totally going to regret picking on Sam, Finn vowed. He stowed his phone and ran for the parking lot.
He found Kurt and Puck waiting for him behind the dumpster. "Did you do it?"
"Look for yourself," Kurt pointed to Karofsky's pride and joy, his black Chevy truck. The truck was sitting on blocks. All four tires had mysteriously vanished.
"Sweet!" Finn crowed. "Where'd you put the tires?"
"In the dumpster," Puck answered.
"It seemed more fitting than writing 'White Trash' across their windshields," Kurt smirked in satisfaction. It was then that Finn noticed that they had gotten to every single football player's vehicle.
"This is epic, but they're going to know it was you, Kurt."
"So what? I'm tired of walking the higher ground, especially when these morons are hurting my friends."
"Shh!" Puck silenced them.
The first group of players wandered out of the locker rooms. "What the fuck?"
The boys had to duck down behind the dumpster when they couldn't contain their laughter. They watched as one by one the players' faces turned red in frustration. Karofsky even kicked his truck hard enough to knock it off the blocks and onto the concrete. Finn fell over, unable to breathe through his laughter.
When Sam, the last boy to leave the locker room, came out, the trio carefully schooled their faces and went to join him.
"Dude," Finn called to Karofsky. "What happened to your car?"
"Some punk thought he was being funny. I'll show him funny." Karofsky narrowed his eyes at Kurt, then at Finn, and finally at Puck. His eyebrows clashed against each other as he struggled to understand what was wrong with this picture.
"What is the meaning of this?" a voice shouted. Principal Figgins pushed his way through the gathering crowd.
"The football team has misplaced their tires, Principal Figgins," Kurt responded in his best apple-polisher voice. "And poor, dear Karofsky is going to need a new rim job."
"Who did this?" Figgins shouted, turning to glare at everyone in equal turns. "This kind of serious damage could result in expulsion if you don't come forward immediately."
No one was laughing now. The boys shifted guiltily, but refused to break ranks. Sam looked at each of them in turn, but also chose to keep his mouth shut.
"I don't get it, Santana," Brittney's voice carried over the hushed crowd. "Why would anyone throw away perfectly good tire swings?"
The students rushed as one towards the dumpster, but Karofsky hung back. A dim light was dawning on his face. "The fairy's balls finally dropped." Karofsky leaned in close enough that Finn could smell the Doritos he had had for lunch. "Too bad, because now I am going to have to fucking gut you, fag." He grabbed Kurt by his lapels and lifted him off his feet. "You never fucking learn. After all of the dumpster tosses, the pee balloons, the phone calls. Buy a damn clue Hummel." Each sentenced was punctuated by a shake.
Sam, Puck, and Finn all rushed to his defense, but Figgins, who had not moved with the rest of the student body, got there first. "Mr. Karofsky, let the boy go immediately."
Karofsky, caught by surprise, did as he was told. "Go to my office. I will see to you as soon as I am done sorting through this mess. We can then discuss with your parents your history of violent acts and your threat to bodily harm another student. I believe this is your third strike, is it not?"
Karofsky paled, but didn't move. "What are you waiting for? Go!" The boy broke into a shuffling run, only turning once to glare back at Hummel.
That was when Figgins turned on them. "Did you four boys have anything to do with this?"
"Sam and I were at football practice," Finn stammered. Finn was so glad he didn't have to lie.
"I was in the nurse's office," Puck held up an expertly forged pink pass.
"You know me, Mr. Figgins," Kurt smiled sweetly. "I hate to get my hands dirty." Finn didn't miss the subtle pat that Kurt gave his bag. Knowing Kurt, he had probably packed gloves and a matching cover-all for the job.
Figgins seemed reluctant to let them go, but barring any real proof, he was forced to turn his attention to the dumpster-diving jocks instead. "Assimov, stop that this instant," he yelled as he walked away.
"Dude," Puck shoved Kurt playfully. "You totally had that last bit planned."
"Don't call me 'dude', Noah. And of course I did." Kurt reached up to tug his jacket back into place. "Why else would I wear last year's Ralph Lauren?"
Finn couldn't resist reaching over to ruffle the boy's hair. He almost lost his fingers in the process, but it was totally worth it.
"You guys did all of this for me?" Sam finally spoke up.
"Glee has got your back," Finn swung an arm over Sam's shoulders and squeezed.
Sam beamed at the three of them. "Thanks you guys." He shrugged off Finn's arm and pulled Kurt into a hug. "Thanks, man. You didn't have to do that."
Kurt awkwardly patted him on the back before pulling away. "Karofsky had it coming. Really, he only had himself to blame." Kurt looked directly in Puck's face for a long, awkward moment before turning on his heel and heading to his SUV. He was whistling some song from Chicago that Finn barely recognized, which meant he was probably in a good mood.
"Your step-bro is kinda scary, dude," Puck informed Finn. Finn just shrugged. Kurt was usually only scaring to other people, and besides, after meeting Burt, Kurt seemed like a kitten.
"In a good way," Sam added. He flashed another dimpled smile at them before jogging to catch up to Kurt.
Finn caught Puck rolling his eyes as he turned to face him. "Do you want to get some pizza? Kurt and Sam will probably just go back to the house and study."
"Sure," Puck sighed. "We can take my truck."
Finn was reaching for the door handle when he heard Puck swear in Yiddish. "Mother-humping-frog-eater," probably wasn't the right translation, Finn decided, before moving around the truck to investigate. He started laughing as soon as he saw what had made Puck curse.
"That little prick," Puck half-growled, half-laughed. Puck's precious truck still had all four tires, but the one on the driver's side had been slashed. Some helpful soul had laid out the spare tire, a jack, a tire iron, and a copy of Basic Car Repairs for Dummies. There was even a clean white towel draped over the windowsill.
Finn was still chuckling as he grabbed the book and started to flip to the section on repairing a flat tire. A single sheet of stationary was marking the page.
"Dear Puck," Finn read gleefully. "I didn't want Figgins to get suspicious, so I arranged this little scene. I hope you understand. Sincerely, Kurt."
"Whatever. Dude, I can't believe he's still pissed about stuff that happened last year," Puck pulled his flannel shirt off over his head and threw it into the truck.
"I can't believe he left you off this easily."
Puck shrugged as if acknowledging that Finn had a point. They worked in silence to hoist up the truck and pull off the lug nuts on the ruined tire. Finn sat back as Puck spun the tire iron.
"You know what really frosts my cookies?" Puck growled as he struggled with a particularly stubborn bolt. "I bet Sam doesn't even take chemistry."