Chapter 6

The Involuntary Confinement

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Mike really needed to make a new group of friends.

Preferably a group of normal, not-crazy friends that didn't overreact to overreactions and didn't battle the mildly perturbed with extreme and freakishly thorough counter attacks.

The handcuffs were a nice touch though.

After he had managed to jerk himself out of his awe-induced trance (how, how, did they manage to handcuff his wrist to Mercedes' bed without him noticing and where did they even find them?) he had spent the following three minutes rubbing his wrists raw in a poor attempt to free himself and the three minutes following that demanding his immediate release. This was mostly aimed at Blaine (Mike was hoping that the McKinley madness hadn't spread to him yet, there was still a chance he could be reasoned with) but Kurt stepped in before he could break out the puppy eyes and glared him into submission, making Mike feel something akin to a scolded three year old.

The highly fashionable teen might be against this whole "soul intervention" thing too, but he appeared to be completely out of patience for Mike's temper tantrums and wanted to get to the bottom of things.

Mike probably hadn't helped his case by storming out of their first two therapy sessions. The handcuffs would stay.

But at least Tina was talking to him again.

It had taken a lot of flowers, a dance serenade specifically choreographed for her, and an evening out at Breadstix completely mother-free, but she was talking to him. They were supposed to see a movie tonight, but she had accepted a bribe from Kurt ($100 gift card, Mike couldn't beat that) and tricked him into stopping at Mercedes'. A casual drop-in, they'd done it plenty of times before, so how was he supposed to know that the moment he waltzed in he would immediately be attacked and dragged unwillingly into the sordid depths of the deranged affair that was his "friends" attempt at helping him.

The first five minutes had gone a little something like this:

Himself: General ranting about unhappiness and objecting to his ill treatment.

Rachel: "Blah, blah, blah, my boyfriend caught the wrong end of a conversation and got me to focus all my psycho powers on something that in no way could be an issue."

Mercedes: "I wasn't completely on board with this idea but Rachel has threatened something I hold dear to me should we let this fester so I'm all in"

Kurt: Laughing at his misfortune and desperation for the dirty details had made him toss his integrity out the window.

Blaine: Smiling nicely and going along with it, still throwing fearful glances Mike's way.

So all in all, it was safe to say they had gotten nowhere.

And then of course Kurt had the audacity to mention Puck, which from past experience it was pretty evident what that was going to lead to, but with the conversation Mike had with Zizes still fresh in his head he may have gone off on a tangent that had nothing to do with Kurt's suggestion and everything to do with Mike trying to explain his ten point argument on how "he + Puck" could never equal man sex.

It probably would have been a lot more effective if it had at least been relevant to the conversation, or mildly provoked, but that wasn't a thought that really occurred to him until he was at point three and by then retreat wasn't really an option. The faces of his friends (and friend's acquaintance boyfriend he may have mentally scarred) were completely enthralled (Kurt and Mercedes practically salivating at the juicy gossip this would make), with the exception of Rachel, who for once was struck silent and portraying the perfect expression of confusion.

So Mike was handcuffed and tired and at the mercy of two of McKinley's biggest gossip divas and trying to stop now would be like trying to avoid meeting Tina's parents. He would have to do it eventually and it would only be more painful the longer he put it off. He would know, he'd done it.

So yeah, he was committed.

"Number five," he ranted, waving his arm wildly as though his audience could be distracted by random flourishes. "He's stupid."

"I thought that was point number one," Blaine interrupted, legitimately trying to be helpful and Mike threw a glare his way that would even make Sue Sylvester proud (ever since this whole thing began he had started practicing) and the boyfriend slightly withered, fidgeting uncomfortably with the sleeve of his designer shirt.

Beside him Kurt reached out and gave his arm a well practiced pat, simultaneously giving Mike a look that said he was not at all amused by his behavior.

Mike avoided looking in his eyes, choosing instead to focus on Mercedes. "It's also point number eight, because he is really stupid."

(And also because Mike couldn't articulate two more points that didn't cause his skin to crawl; and a ten point plan sounded incredibly more impressive than an eight point one).

He continued before any further arguments/complaints/interruptions could be made, clearing his throat quietly and running a hand through his hair.

"Point number six, Puck has a girlfriend."

Not the strongest of arguments because it was pretty obvious after two years of glee club that Puck had no qualms with cheating or man-stealing- no, girl-stealing (which was why it was point number six as all other girlfriend-related points had already been stated (2: Mike had a girlfriend, 3: he would not cheat on his girlfriend, 4: his girlfriend was awesomesauce and he was lucky to have her)). The safe points were over, and now came the awkwardly worded but very, very important securement of sexuality points.

Mike could do this, he was awesome and manly and this wasn't as big a deal as his brain was currently making it because he didn't like guys and he really didn't like Puck and why couldn't he have normal friends that didn't resort to handcuffs?

"Point number six," he began once he'd reclaimed his mojo. "He's not even that good looking."

He's not…not that Mike had really been looking at him that hard in that way, but based on the basic information he had gathered on knowing Puck for like, ever, Mike had to say he wasn't all that impressed with the Mohawk, didn't get what people saw in it. Inspired (and sure it would only help prove his point), Mike decided to share his thought, knowing that if he fully explained himself he would be able to clarify all confusion/any future suggestions of him getting it on with Puck.

"That's pretty much a requirement right?" he asked, aiming his question at Kurt but moving on before the fashionista got a chance to reply.

"How are you supposed to do the dirty," he refused to call it "intimate relations" like Rachel had. "If they're not even…you know."

But maybe they don't know, so he kept going.

"I'm not even that vain a guy, but some kind of visual aesthetic appeal has to be there, right? Just a little something." He paused, exhaling slowly as he shook his head. "I just can't get past that stupid mohawk."

The proper response to his confession would have been something along the lines of murmured agreement or pats on the back that rejoiced in his discovery.

The desired response was that they would be so moved by the undeniable truth of his epiphany that they would immediately release him so that they could give him a proper hug, and he would take that opportunity to run away into the night, leaving this sordid affair behind him.

The expected response was that Kurt would demand more details and get that glazed look in his eyes as though he was committing the entire conversation to memory verbatim to be written down at a later date while the rest of the room's inhabitants began evaluating all of Puck's features to decide if Mike's claims held any true merit.

The unexpected response, and what actually did happen, was for the door to suddenly burst open, revealing a very pissed off and insulted Puck, glaring them all down in a manner that would have been a lot more intimidating if he wasn't dressed like Mission Impossible gone wrong, black camo paint smeared across his face to make a small curled mustache complete with goatee. To add to the absurdity of it all he wore a tool belt that had obviously been painted black for the occasion, brimming with miscellaneous items that ranged from a stethoscope to a tape measure to a walkie talkie, all positioned with measured care that held no discernible pattern or reason.

They were all too shocked by his sudden appearance (and actual appearance) to begin demanding what he was doing there (based on the looks on everyone else's faces this was not a planned event) and Puck took that moment of shocked silence to express his disapproval of Mike's opinions.

"You would be lucky to get a piece of this action Chang!" he shouted, glaring at him angrily.

Mike balked out of his shock, staring at Puck with a mixture of horror and frustration (what, so he was following him now?) as he once more began to tug uselessly against his metal bonds. Of course this required him to pull his focus away from Puck, something which the other teen did not appreciate, and a minute later he was literally in Mike's face, arms braced on either side of him, trapping him against the bed.

"If anyone should be complaining about looks it should be me, seriously, I would be doing your plain-Jane face a favor by gracing it with these lips."

Mike scrubbed at his face with his free hand, blocking out his view of Puck while futilely hiding his new bout of despair. It was official, Zizes had brainwashed Puck. She had taken over his mind and now controlled all of his actions because there was no other way, no way Puck would be defending himself as a possible make-out option. If anything he should be backing up Mike, making crude jokes and laughing and then they would high five and all would be well with the world.

Unless his ego was really that big and he just had to be attractive to everyone.

Someone cleared their throat behind Puck, begrudgingly capturing both the bed-bound teen and his aggressor's attention, and Kurt, poker face perfectly intact, stepped forward to mediate, easily picking up where they left off a couple days ago.

"So what I'm seeing here is that you," he motioned to Puck, "Actually want to…"

"Let me stop you right there Baby Face," the James Bond wannabe interrupted, arms still pinning Mike against the bed, but his focus completely on Kurt. "What I'm saying is that this tool should want to-"

"So your ego really is that big?"

When Puck's face immediately snapped in his direction Mike realized that he must have spoken those words aloud and put his glare back on, adding in some wild eyebrows to throw the other teen off his game. Puck remained unimpressed, choosing to shift his forearm across the dancer's chest so he could properly tower over him (or as much as you could tower over someone when crouching down).

"Check it Chang," he growled, successfully menacing no one. "My lady gave me the lowdown…"

So she had brainwashed him.

Mike had gone through all that trouble of stealing her phone, and then hiding her phone; and then attempting to defend her phone from being pillaged by the enemy whenever Sam came to get it back, and then losing it, and then panicking like a little girl with said blond-haired traitor as they tried to appeal to the toilet gods to allow its release from its finicky pipes, and then having a very long one sided glaring contest as they awaited for the plumber to show up, and celebrating its return, and then fighting over it once more when the plumber left, and then suddenly being struck by the fact that electronics and water usually didn't tend to mix, and then-

Yeah, she got her phone back, and it still worked, but he wasn't really talking to Sam right now.

Maybe later.

Still, that was a lot of crap to put up with for nothing.

Which was why his mouth decided it felt like contributing things that weren't necessarily helpful at the moment, just so it could feel like it was maybe being of some use.

News flash, it never was.

Before Puck could get too terribly far into his recount of the horrors suggested by Zizes, Mike interrupted, "There is no sexual tension between us!"

Which should have been the end of it, but Mike appeared to be the only sane person left in the world, and the rest of the room wanted nothing more than to discuss this new fact that had just been brought to light.

Seriously mouth, go on vacation or something, you kind of suck.

He really needed to go back to being the guy that stood in the background making cheerful faces. He could handle making faces.

Blaine was the first to inspect this new puzzle piece, turning to Kurt with renewed intent to conspire. "You know, I think that's what we've been missing here."

To Mike's horror the rest of the room just nodded along in total agreement (including Puck), leaving Mike to futilely wish that bedspreads could be more effective tools for rendering one unconscious as the super spy settled in beside him for the long debate, possessively wrapping an arm around his waist (which wasn't really happening because Mike was now refusing to acknowledge anything Puck did) and pulling the dancer flush against his side as though it were the most natural thing in the world.

As words started floating around Mike kept his attention on the ceiling. So far his participation was only proving to have incredibly disastrous ramifications on his fate, so maybe if he just sat back for awhile this would fizzle out completely.

Or maybe he would end up as Puck's sex slave.

It was really too soon to tell.

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*Outside, in the van*

Despite the fact that Puck had completely disregarded the no-contact protocol, Artie had to say that this evening was going fantastically well. Footage wise, at least. He could make at least two different videos from the shots he had already, and now that Puck was actually inside there could only be cinematic genuis to come. Yes, all things in the world of Professor X were going quite well.

He was in the middle of rummaging through his backpack for his Teriyaki beef jerky (even master-mind handlers had to eat) when he heard a couple of sporadically spaced taps against his side window (which was weird, because cops usually tended to have a more assertive, confident kind of knock whenever they checked in on him). Curiosity peaked; Artie turned his head enough to see the darkened outline of one Finn Hudson, shifting his weight side-to-side nervously, legitimately doubting if it was Artie in the car.

Well, it was good his disguise wasn't totally for nothing.

Jerky abandoned, Artie pulled out a spare set of keys and automatically opened the far side cab door, allowing the quarterback entrance into the freshly-deemed spymobile. Finn's look of wonder sent a fresh wave of pride through Artie, allowing him to once more appreciate the thought and effort that went into setting up the stakeout vehicle. Before he could talk there was some more noise and flailing on the computer (Mike seemed awful fond of it) and both of their attentions were turned to the screen, Finn marveling at the fact actual spying was happening.

Yes, the camera had been hard to get, but it was worth it in the long run.

When the struggle died down Finn turned back to Artie, excitement and confusion written on his face. "Dude, are you guys actually spying? I just thought Puck forgot to get you out of the car for some costume party or something."

Which could have happened, but after last time Artie made sure he kept his phone with him and fully charged at all times.

Because begging for help from strangers was not fun.

"He's trying to prove there's a conspiracy," Artie explained, motioning to the screen. Finn nodded his head thoughtfully, rubbing his chin.

"Do you know what's going on here?" Artie continued, trying to get to the bottom of things.

Candles and incense and handcuffs did not normally make for a run-of-the-mill meeting.

Finn nodded, eyes still glued to the screen. "Yeah, Rachel set up a soul intervention for Mike so that he could know he was important and vital to the team. Kurt wouldn't let me go though, so I figured I'd just wait outside until it was over and get the details from Rach."

Artie turned back to him, eyebrows raised. "You couldn't do that over the phone?"

"I could," Finn admitted, shrugging his shoulders. "But then I wouldn't get to make out with her."

Artie nodded in understanding, titling his head. "Fair enough."

If he still had a girlfriend he'd be doing that too.

After a few minutes of watching them talk (something about sexual tension?) Finn perked up, sniffing the air.

"That Teriyaki flavor?" he asked, motioning to the jerky bag once he caught sight of it.

The bespectacled teen nodded happily, handing the bag over with relaxed ease. "There's plenty to go around, just sit back and watch the magic happen."

Because magic was going to happen, just like spying was happening, and talking was happening, and probably rapid negotiation to get out of handcuffs was happening, magic was going to happen.

Because this was New Directions, and that was kind've how they rolled.

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Endnotes:

Well, I am ridiculously pleased that I was able to post this chapter today.

It almost didn't happen, my dad somehow enraged our router and it was not a happy camper. He had been having issues with it before and decided the best course of action to fix it was to take the rest of us down with him.

Fair enough, I guess.

Anyway, he finally got it to work, so I decided to finish up this chapter lickety split so I could post it up before the network crashed again (if it crashed again).

Anyway, I would like to give the biggest of big thanks to everyone who reviewed last chapter! SouthernHemmy (sorry it's one word and I've been writing it as two), PlotterFTW, Gabwr, strawberryfinn (I hope you did well on your final), and Rogue Ranger.

I'm trying not to make this entire story just Mike freaking out, but it's so much fun to write.

…maybe I should make Puck freak out…you know, just to be fair.

Until next time.