Disclaimer: I do not own Glee, and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.
A/N: I have to give credit to my friend and co-author The-Jellybaby-Bandit for making this happen. To those who have read Chapter 1 already i.e. not as a continuation of having read to this point today; please note that there was an 'administrative' error. Half of Chapter 1 never got posted. It's entirely the fault of my incompetent co-author (this is TJB writing the A/N btw before you start flaming needlessly). It's been updated now so I'd recommend if you're going to read on to go back and re-read. Sorry for any inconvenience.
Escape Plan by Frank Featherstiff
Chapter Three: Ribs & Asian Vampires
The following morning, Puck rolled out of bed at the sound of his alarm. Well, to say roll suggests that the jock had any kind of coordination at seven in the morning. To be more accurate, Puck jumped out of his skin at the blaring alarm and trapped as he was in a cocoon made out of his bedsheets, gracelessly tumbled onto the floor with a startled groan.
Getting to his knees, Puck slapped a heavy palm down on the top of the alarm and silencing the screaming high pitched wailing. Pushing himself up onto his feet with a groan, Puck stood basking in the absolute silence for a moment as he scratched at his abs and yawned widely. The conversation with Santana the night before had not made for a restful sleep once the girl had hung up on him.
'That's another thing... she hung up on me! Puckzilla! Nobody hangs up on Puckzilla!'
Digging through the hamper in the corner of his room, Puck tossed on some clothes that didn't smell too bad; the alternative was having to do laundry and the jock absolutely hated laundry day. Still half asleep, Puck stumbled bleary eyed through to the kitchen where he proceeded to slump at the breakfast bar staring at his cell as he mechanically shovelled his frosted flakes into his mouth with a spoon.
This was fucked up. That was the only conclusion that the jock could find to adequately describe matters as they currently stood.
Puck wasn't the type of guy to sit around and obsess over his actions. Puckzilla was a bad ass, and a man of action.
'A man of badass action... yeah that sounds good!'
Pissed off at his own pussy reaction after talking to Santana the night before, he fired off a text back to Hummel.
"Puck. I just wanted to see if I was talking to you or to the blazer-bound pod person that is trying to replace you."
Sure as replies go, it was totally lame but Puck felt he would get better at dealing with Hummel with practice. Santana had been right about one thing - damn her. None of the guys at McKinley, bar Finn who literally had to speak to Kurt what with their parents being married and all; had even tried to keep in contact once the soprano had bailed.
Puck supposed that if things really got desperate - and by desperate the jock meant he'd literally run out of options - he could ask Rachel what shows wouldn't make him barf and watch them with his little sister to give him something to talk about with the smaller boy. He'd watched some with his sister before so it wouldn't be unheard of.
'I'm not admitting I liked High Society though... not cool...'
Finishing up the bowl of Frosted Flakes and feeling a lot better for the sugar intake, Puck nodded to himself in satisfaction. His plan was solidly cool and what could it hurt really? Moving to the sink to rinse out his bowl and spoon, Puck had just set both down to dry and was grabbing up his bookbag when his pants buzzed.
"Oooh yeah, that's the stuff...", groaned Puck chuckling at himself.
Fishing into his jeans pocket and pulling out his cell, the half-back couldn't help the smile that formed at reading Kurt's reply.
"LOL. No, not yet, still 100% Grade A human here. Dalton is safe but not homey. At least yet. Miss you guys."
Puck decided to hold off on sending a reply as if he took the time now, he'd end up being late for school. Not that being late was really going to make a huge difference to Puck's day. Still it did mean he'd probably not be able to grab a Slushie before retreating to the Nurse's Office for his morning nap. And that would just be tragic.
Pocketing his cell and slinging his bookbag over his shoulder, Puck had just descended the steps outside his apartment block when his pocket vibrated again.
"Oooh yeah, that's the stuff...", groaned Puck shivering in exaggerated delight as he groped in his pocket for his cell.
"Ahem..."
'Shit!'
Puck froze at the clearing throat and slowly turned to face his neighbour, Mrs Bartowski - an eighty-year old battle-axe with a demeanour akin to a riled up mountain lion. Even badasses like Puck knew better than to mess with Mrs Bartowski.
Sheepishly ducking his head at having been caught, Puck mumbled,
"Morning Mrs B...", before slinking off as quickly as his feet would carry him.
Rounding the corner out of sight of Mrs Bartowski, Puck again dug into his pocket, this time coming away with his cell in his hand. Seeing his pick-up in the distance, Puck quickly checked the message seeing that it was from Kurt again.
"And I meant it, thanks Puck. It meant a lot."
Puck didn't know what to think; after all it was just one text. Was Kurt really that lonely that even a text from him was important to him? The jock resolved to speak with Finn at some point to see what the Quarterback thought of Kurt's emotional state.
Hopping behind the wheel of his pick-up, Puck jammed the key into the ignition and pulled away from the curb. At least today was Glee rehearsal day so school wouldn't be a complete washout as it normally was. Thinking of Glee gave Puck an idea. And Puck always liked his ideas. They were his and thus totally awesome.
Santana smiled to herself when she saw her Father sitting in his usual spot at the breakfast room table when she came down the next morning. The Latina was nothing if not a Daddy's Girl and everything she had ever learned about manipulating people she had learned at the knee of her Father.
That being said, everything she ever learned about spying she learned from her Mother; they were close too in a jealous rivalry sorta way. Still her Dad was able to get more nurses and interns into bed then ever her mom was able to find out about. He was sorta her hero.
'Not that I'd be stupid enough to trust him completely of course, Dad or not...'
"Daddy!...", Santana said smiling brightly as she skipped across the room to give the elder Lopez a kiss on the cheek. Though the act was in no way odd for the two of them her Father was no fool and the girl's tone of voice had clearly warned him that all was not as it seemed.
Alejandro Lopez eyed his daughter with veiled curiosity as he searched her face for any clue as to her motives for being so attentive so early in the day. Despite all of that, Alejandro was not a man to beat around the bush - now was no exception to the rule.
"What do you want Santana?"
The light in Santana's eyes dimmed for a split second at having been called out by her Dad much faster than she had anticipated.
Damn he was good. Still, Santana was more then just her Father's daughter. She could pull this off; she had no other choice.
"A photo op...", the Latina deadpanned as she crossed the room to take the French press away from their cook Gerta. Refiling her Father's cup with a sickly sweet smile, Santana sat down beside him, and placed her hand on his arm.
"I want to be Homecoming Queen, and I know for a fact, that you want to run for office next election. There is no way that anyone that is anything other then the whitest WASP is going to win election in a city like Lima."
Santana paused and poured herself a glass of freshly squeezed orange juice from the carafe on the table, while she let her little rant seep into her Father's consciousness. The Latina could already see Alejandro's eyes starting to flick back and forth as he tried to think around the information she was laying in front of him.
"So this photo opportunity?...", asked Alejandro leaning slightly closer to his daughter as the girl tried to keep the sense of triumph at having hooked her Father so simply from showing on her face.
"Did you know that the two poorest churches in town are a black and a Korean church?", Santana asked as she grabbed a crisp piece of bacon from her Father's plate and snapped it in two. From the tone of her voice one would assume that it was the most innocuous of questions; however this was Santana Lopez asking the question - with Santana there were always riddles, within mysteries, within enigmas.
Nibbling daintily on the bacon, the Latina continued waving a hand in the air nonchalantly as she chattered on,
"I happen to have a friend who goes to each church. If we sponsor a fundraiser, that shows we are home-y..." the Latina used air quotes as she said the last word, "...it will go a long way to winning people over. Especially with no election anywhere near now. This is planning ahead."
"Do you have anything specific in mind?"
Santana rolled her eyes. Like she would even be bringing this up if she didn't have everything in order. Life, Santana realised, was a lot like organising a Cheerios pyramid. Lay the groundwork and build upwards from the base. Did her Father really think she'd be so incompetent as to get ahead of herself? Really it was insulting.
'Now is not the time to give in to Daddy issues though...''
Fighting down her indignant feelings, Santana's mask of civility never wavered as she slipped a sheet of paper containing an itemised budget over to her Father. The Latina smiled at her Father as the older man became engrossed in the figures on the page before him..
"I'll let Mike and Mercedes know that you will be happy to help their churches Daddy...", she said before bounding up, and heading out to her car
"Oh, and I need my bedroom ceiling re-plastered and painted... love to Mother..."
Kurt had only been asleep for about forty-five minuets when his alarm began to beep waking him for the Warblers dance rehearsal scheduled for that morning. Since he had been at Dalton, Kurt had felt like none of his time had been his own. Between studying for his classes and performing with the Warblers, Kurt barely had time to talk to his best friend never mind do anything else. The soprano was starting to understand why there were no bullies here - they simply didn't have time to spare to pick on anyone.
Pulling on his uniform with uncharacteristic lack of interest in his appearance, frankly Kurt was beginning to get sick of navy and red, the soprano ignored the hungry growl in his stomach. Breakfast was not an option, there was, as always, no time. Doubling his pace so as not to be late, Kurt trotted up the main staircase towards the Music Rooms on the second floor. Pushing open the heavy oak doors, Kurt entered the practice room and took in the view.
Even at 7.30am, most of the other guys already had their blazers off and their sleeves rolled up, and a good many were already involved in the process of moving all of the couches against the wall. Kurt was setting down his satchel to help, when a hard grabbed his arm, and quickly ushered him down the hall and into an empty classroom. From the first moment of contact, Kurt had know it was Blaine, and admitted to himself with no small amount of chagrin that he'd happily allow himself to be led anywhere by the older boy.
'God you're such a tramp Kurt...'
Once they were alone, Blane smiled at Kurt, and it was all the younger boy could do not to gasp aloud. The brunette suddenly regretted having read all of those Jane Austen novels as a child; it was all Kurt could do not to try comparing Blaine to Mr Darcy.
"Kurt, I was wondering if I could ask you advice on something, but first I have a present for you...", reaching into his back pocket, Blaine handed Kurt a sheet of music, "...I noticed you were upset at music rehearsal last night, and Simpson said you had mentioned that the song was too low for your vocals. So... being the all round great guy that I am, I had them write another part for you."
Seeing the stupefied expression on Kurt's face, Blaine chuckled and raised his eyebrows,
"I hope that's OK."
"Perfect...", sighed Kurt, still tingling somewhat from the heat from Blaine's fingers brushing his when the other boy had passed him the sheet music,"...I mean, thank you. This is a perfect gift."
Kurt winced hoping that Blaine hadn't picked up on; or at least chose to ignore his unintentional slip.
"Awesome...", said Blaine, smiling once again and stepping back, "...cause, like I said, I have some advice to ask of you. There is a new guy at school, and I sorta think he is gay, and I sorta think he is cute."
Kurt's heart was beating a mile a minute and the soprano was sure that if he were to lean against any of the furniture in the room, the nervous tremors running through his small frame would cause it to vibrate like a cell phone. Both boys looked up in the same instant and their eyes met. Kurt let out a whisper like moan which thankfully for the soprano's dignity, Blaine missed entirely.
"And I think he sorta likes me too. I want to; well I want to sing a song for him. And I wanted your opinion on whether this was the right one or not. It has to be perfect."
Rushing across the room, Kurt was struck by just how animated Blaine had become - the usually confident and erudite Warbler had been replaced by a nervous and desperate to impress guy.
'If only he knew he didn't have to impress me...'
Blaine hit the play button on an obviously preset stereo that must have been placed there earlier that morning and began singing after the initial intro had sounded. Kurt didn't know the song, but was soon blushing at the lyrics, and giggling at the faces Blaine was making as he sang his heart out.
"Hey I've been watching you,
Every little thing you do
Every time I see you dance
In my homeroom class, makes my heart beat fast
I've tried to page you twice
But I see you roll your eyes
Wish I could make it real
But your lips are sealed, that ain't no big deal
'Cause I know you really want me
I hear your friends talk about me
So why you tryin' to do without me
When you got me
Where you want me..."
Kurt giggled as Blaine danced and made faces around him. So much for his secret crush being a secret. However, it didn't matter . So what if Blaine knew? Blaine liked him back.
"(Hey Juliet)
I think you're fine
You really blow my mind
Maybe someday, you and me can run away
I just want you to know
I wanna be your Romeo
Hey Juliet
(Hey Juliet)
Girl you got me on my knees
Beggin' please, baby please
Got my best DJ on the radiowaves saying
Hey Juliet, why do you do him this way
Too far to turn around
So I'm gonna stand my ground
Gimme just a little bit of hope
With a smile or a glance, gimme one more chance
'Cause I know you really want me
I hear your friends talk about me
So why you tryin' to do without me
When you got me
Where you want me..."
Kurt couldn't help it any more; he had to act. Walking over to Blaine, the smaller boy danced with his crush - and dare he think it - his about-to-be-boyfriend?
"Hey Juliet
I think you're fine
You really blow my mind
Maybe someday, you and me can run away
I just want you to know
I wanna be your Romeo
Hey Juliet..."
As the song finished, the boys collapsed in a pile on the ground laughing. To Kurt, this was the moment, the gestalt; Blaine, dancing, Dalton, life just felt so right; everything that the soprano had wanted was now slotting into place. Who would have thought that the thing preventing it had been being at McKinley? Sliding over, Kurt started slowly moving in for a kiss when Blaine asked breathlessly,
"So was it any good?"
"Amazing. I loved it."
"Totally Awesome. Ricky will totally go for it then, you're so alike..."
With a quick squeeze to Kurt's upper arm and brushing an almost motherly kiss to his cheek, Blaine left the room.
Kurt remained where he was lying on the floor on his back and laughed. It was either that, vomit, or cry, and he simply didn't have time for the last two options as they'd both require clean-up.
Blowing off dance practice - Kurt knew that Blaine would cover for him at this point in 'return for the advice - the brunette shuffled back to his dorm room after dropping off his paper at Dr Dimple's faculty mailbox and after having swung by the Nurse's Office to get a medical excuse for the day.
Getting a ticket of leave wasn't as difficult as you'd imagine. Kurt wondered whether it was just standard in the education system that Nurse's hand out free day passes like dentist's do lollipops. Of course, on this occasion it could have been when the Nurse saw how pale and shaky Kurt was that she ordered him to his room. Answering honestly the question about when he'd last eaten - the power bar before his shower the night before and then nothing since - got him a deserving admonishment and instructions to eat a large lunch and dinner that night.
"Make sure to get lots of protein" she had added as an afterthought. There had to be a joke in there somewhere, but Kurt was just too tired to care.
Returning to his room, Kurt peeled off his Dalton uniform with undisguised relish, and crawled into bed in just his boxers. It was completely unlike Kurt not to even bother with his cute Vera Bradley pajama bottoms and it was a testament to just how deeply in shock the brunette was.
A blinking from his nightstand drew Kurt's attention as he reached out and snatched up his cell. Glancing at the sender, Kurt was surprised to see that he had another message from his mystery man.
'I suppose there's a vacancy in that department now...', thought Kurt morosely.
Rolling his eyes at himself and his sudden defeatist attitude, Kurt was shocked at the fact that Puck of all people was texting him. It wasn't completely beyond the realms of possibility that Puck would text him; but for the half-back to be joking with him - that was a surprise. Kurt still couldn't help but be pleased though, after everything that had just happened he could use an ear; even if it wasn't a particularly friendly one.
After firing off a couple of quick replies to the most unlikely of Gleek texting buddies, Kurt saved Puck's number under the name Charles Atlas in his phone. For some reason, the soprano just didn't feel...right...safe...putting Puck's name in.
Anyway, as cute as Sam looked in his gold spandex hot pants, there would have been no question about who would have played Rocky if Puck had not been in Juvie. Between the two, Sam was way closer to the 98 pound weakling, and Puck would have the Charles Atlas seal of approval.
Deciding it was lack of sleep that allowed his mind to follow down such twisted paths, Kurt pushed his cell under his pillow and allowed himself to drift off to sleep.
Santana walked into the Cafeteria to see Mike, Tina, and Mercedes already seated at a table together. Putting on her sexiest smirk and adding a little flick to her swagger; after all the Latina was the instigator of the current embargo and wanted everyone to truly realize what they were missing out on; Santana marched over to their table.
"So, my Father is doing a charity event that may be picked up on state news channel, and I told him I knew a Blasian fusion duo that could provide vocals for the event...", said Santana casually as she sat down in the seat across from Mike ensuring to give the Asian boy an enticing flash of her smooth and toned legs in the process.
"You know we are down girl...", said Mercedes as she linked her hand with Tina's and the other girl nodded emphatically.
"Yeah, I don't think I was clear. This is not a job for Asian Vampire Princess, this one goes to Other Asian...", said Santana as she allowed her grin to grow only slightly.
"Me?" Mike asked shocked and glancing between the Latina and the clearly put out Tina.
"Yes you, My day is throwing a fundraiser for both yours and Aretha's churches, and my Dad told me that I had to invite you two to sing."
Rolling her eyes for dramatic effect, Santana huffed and sighed.
"Like I would ever want to be caught dead at a rib cook off...", she mumbled loud enough for the other three to hear.
"Did you say ribs?" Mercedes asked suddenly interested in the turn the conversation had taken and ignoring the death glare sent her way by a still visibly fuming Tina.
"Why would you Dad just think of something like this?...", asked Tina, the tone of her voice a mix of confusion and resentment, "...they aren't his churches after all."
Damn, Asian Vampire Princess was being smart again. Santana had to get Artie's dick in her mouth and fast so she would stop talking - or at least be reduced to a dull muffle.
"Yes ribs, BBQ ribs verses Korean ribs or something like that; my Dad is big on BBQ. Blah, blah, blah, I don't care. Also my dad has a soft spot for maids. My Abuela was a maid, and apparently this little old lady came into my Dad's office and talked about her church. After that I stopped listening...", said Santana shrugging as if her lack of attention was in any way a deficiency.
"Anyway, the event is going to go on for like ever - who would have thought a rib would take so damn long to cook but there you go - so you better have enough duets to cover the whole time. And they all have to be good, cause firstly it's my rep on the line if you suck and secondly we have no idea when the news crews are coming."
Santana levelled her best 'Bitch from Hell' glare at the pair of potential lovers as she growled out her final warning; which was in essence nothing more than the final cherry on the cake.
"I will if necessary, cut you if you embarrass my Daddy. For some reason that escapes me, he thinks we are close or something."
Rolling her eyes at the slack jawed yokels her 'friends' had become; Santana flicked her ponytail over her shoulder and without a further word stalked out of the lunch room and toward the gym.
'Gotta stay hot if I want Brit back after all... and I had bacon at breakfast...'
Puck almost hummed with pent up energy during Glee that day. It took everything the half-back had in him not to stand up in front of of Mr. Schue right there and then and tell everyone his idea. The jock held himself back though as Mr Schue was cool for an old dude and Puck didn't want to give him any shit.
So quite unlike himself and more like a good little Glee clubber - something that Puck had never thought he'd consider himself - the half-back waited until everything was done before standing up and clearing his throat.
"OK, I gotta talk to you everybody, well not you Mr Shue...", said Puck with chagrin at seeing the momentary look of disappointment on the teacher's face.
The teacher shrugged, and smiled to everyone as he walked out, and Lauren muttered 'whatever' as she followed him - in truth Puck had been avoiding making eye contact with Princess Fiona ever since their rendezvous. The nightmares still hadn't gone away.
Seeing his plan slipping away before his eyes, Puck flexed his pecks and bowed up a little to show the other people there that he was serious. None of the other club members seemed to be trying to go anywhere though which Puck thought was kinda cool.
'Not that I'm getting all sappy and shit over these losers...'
"So I texted Kurt...", Puck glanced at Santana but saw only an implacable mask as per usual, "... and he seemed upset and stuff. And that isn't cool."
Puck was doing his best to talk about this emotion shit, but it just wasn't in him to continue and so he looked for assistance.
"Fuck it, how is our boy doing Aretha?", Puck asked throwing a lifeline to the black girl figuring that if anyone had been in regular contact with Kurt it would be Aretha.
"Well, he feels safer there..." she said slowly, a little confused by the sudden concern being shown by the jock. At Puck's continued urging though Mercedes continued, her voice falling more sombre, and her eyes shifting hesitantly around the group.
"But he is really lonely and the classes are really different then they are here. He - he wouldn't admit it to me in a million years, you all know how stubborn Kurt can be - but he's struggling. I can tell."
"See!...", exclaimed Puck like that explained everything, "...We need to be better friends or junk."
Santana was almost getting wet she was so excited. Her plan was working out better then she could have ever dreamed of. Speaking up as if the thought had only just occurred to her; spurred on by Puck's impassioned speech the Latina pitched in,
"We should get Kurt to come to my party Friday. We can make him feel special."
"I have several ideas about that as it happens..." Rachel started before Puck cut her off at the knees.
"Good and we'll do those, but we are talking about my ideas now. I'm holding the conch shell sister...", Puck poked himself in the chest for emphasis, "...My shell, my ideas..."
Looking to make sure everyone was watching the jock nodded and continued.
"Earlier today I asked...", Artie gave him a hard look, "...ok, I persuaded - that's all I'm giving you Abrams so shove it - several members of the AV club to rig up the auditorium. I figured we could record a song and send it to Hummel."
Grabbing some sheet music from the band he handed it out to the others who immediately began to read over it, some frowning at a song they were unfamiliar with and others nodding appreciatively.
"Finn can take lead, and we'll just back him up."
"That sounds... Charming...", quipped Quinn as all of the girls in the group tittered at the pun, whilst all the guys went to an imaginary visual place filled with images Alyssa Milano - dipped in chocolate.
"Umm, dude, I don't know The Smiths...", said Finn staring in confusion at the sheet music, "... sorry."
"Dude...", was all PPuck could think to say through his disappointment - how could any self respecting guy not know The Smiths? Of course, trust Puck to pick out a badass song that Finn didn't know.
"I know...ouch!...", Sam started before Santana quickly snatched the end of his sentence away from under him and left him with a forming bruise on his impressive bicep
"...just how to fix this. This your your idea Puck. You sing it."
Santana knew that Puck wouldn't refuse - it wasn't in the jock's nature to back down from anything - this would be no different. The Latina smirked in satisfaction as true to expectation Puck nodded his agreement.
"Yeah, Morrissey would be badass in a weird way I guess...", Puck shrugged as he switched music with Finn who agreed to take up the drums instead, "... whatever, I can work with it..."
Walking to the auditorium the Gleeks arranged themselves on stools surrounded by fog and harsh overhead lighting. Odd shadows danced across each of their faces, and Puck's eyes seemed heavily lidded as he began singing into the the camera that was set up.
"I am the son and the heir
Of a shyness that is criminally vulgar
I am the son and heir
Of the nothing in particular
You shut your mouth, how can you say
I go about things the wrong way
I am human and I need to be loved
Just like everybody else does
I am the son and the heir
Of a shyness that is criminally vulgar
I am the son and the heir
Of nothing in particular
You shut your mouth, how can you say
I go about things the wrong way
I am human and I need to be loved
Just like everybody else does
There's a club
If you'd like to go
You could meet somebody
Who really loves you
So you go and you stand on your own
And you leave on your own
And you go home
And you cry and you want to die
When you say it's gonna happen now
Well, when exactly do you mean?
See, I've already waited too long
And all my hope is gone
You shut your mouth, how can you say
I go about things the wrong way
I am human and I need to be loved
Just like everybody else does"
With the last line, Puck took a moment to really look into the camera, and then he couldn't resist giving a little wink. Looking at Artie he asked,
"Can you get that to him tonight?"
"Sure..." the wheelchair bound boy replied as a disc was already spinning in the drive of his laptop which was attached to the camera feed. All that it would take after that was for someone to sneak into the school mail room and it would be at Dalton by morning.
Santana couldn't hide her smile of satisfaction any longer as she watched Puck walk out of the auditorium.
Tina just watched her silently
A/N: Song credits in this chapter go to "How Soon is Now" by "The Smiths" and "Hey Juliet" by "LMNT".
PLEASE REVIEW - IT WOULD MEAN A LOT.