Chapter 8
The Incontrovertible Contrivance
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Time didn't mean anything anymore.
Seconds and minutes and hours just blend into nothingness because Mike couldn't possibly measure or quantify the horrors that kept parading past him, all happy and jubilant and mocking, and he had long since past the point of abandoning his attempts at understanding any of it all.
He could at least take a small measure of comfort from the fact that this had to be the worst of it. Sure, Tina and Mercedes might be gossiping about this for days to come, but this nonsense couldn't possibly drag on any longer than this.
This was the breaking point, the end of it, the finale. There would be some more talking and eventually he would snap, and then Puck would snap, and then they'd spend maybe ten minutes yelling at each other until they got it all out of their system while everyone else cleared the room, and when they were both worn out they would shake hands and call it a truce, and then Puck would pick the lock on Mike's handcuffs because that was just the kind of thing he knew how to do, and then this would all be over.
Yes, there would still be the incredibly frustrating fact that despite all the madness that had wreaked havoc on their lives (or, at least, Mike's life. The only alterations he'd seen in the course of these events in Puck's life was to become mildly crazier), nothing had really changed at all.
Puck would still be Puck, he would still obliviously treat Mike like dirt and Mike would go back to taking it because doing anything otherwise obviously led to more trouble than it was worth, and he would just have to resign himself to the fact that he would always be second string for no apparent reason, other than the fact that in Puck's world he just couldn't warrant that kind of respect.
Mike was bitter about this fact, it pissed him off more than he could express, but all of his attempts to try and reason out what was clearly too illogical to be tampered with had left him with nothing but a nasty headache and a sour feeling in his stomach.
Who was he, anyway, to try and mess with the fabric of the universe?
This was just High School, in a year he would probably never see Puck again, why did he care so much about what the other teen thought of him?
Was it the principal of the thing, just the idea of this inequality that bothered Mike?
And if that was the case, then why? The world wasn't fair, this wasn't a new thing, there would always be people who wouldn't respect Mike, or give him common courtesy, it was just…
It was just that he'd known Puck forever, and these other mythical people have the advantage of being unfamiliar with Mike to base their discrimination on. But he'd known Noah since they were ankle biters (or knee biters or whatever his parents called it, not that it was an entirely accurate description because Mike had no recollection of carrying a personal vendetta against any specific appendages) so what the hell gave Puck the right to treat Mike like trash?
Like he was the most unimportant thing in the world and then, possibly force his entirely ego-based advances on Mike, even though they both know they are far from gay (and Mike swore to God if Puck was doubting him because of his dancing he really was going to kill him and wizard away his body into parts unknown).
Maybe it was the rapid turnabout of Puck's feelings (-no, stop thinking those words)…actions towards him that have really got Mike in a tizzy (which was a completely accurate and not at all unmanly way to describe his emotional status).
Puck completely disregarded him for common courtesy but when there was just the chance he could get some action out of it he was more than willing to give Mike his undivided attention.
Granted, that attention came via creepy stalkerish tendencies, but it was there, and Mike was at a loss for how to deal with it.
Really, he was at a loss for how to deal with most of this, as Mike had demonstrated with all of his freakouts, and it would be really nice if someone could just explain it to him. Unfortunately, most of the people he would turn to for advice were either holding him hostage or so emotionally engaged with the hostage takers that they weren't liable to help even if he asked them to.
A truly troublesome quandary.
And then Puck shifted against his side (except Mike wasn't snuggled against the other teen because if he was the world would end) and the heavy weight that had been resting completely forgotten in his back pocket pressed into his skin, calling to be remembered.
Mike's eyes widened in realization, tilting his head in thought.
That was right, he had abandoned hope for his phone because of…well, he already said why, no one was there to answer his calls but…
He snapped his free hand (an action that was completely ignored by everyone), fresh idea springing into mind.
Quinn, he could text Quinn.
Granted, she wasn't likely to come to his rescue, mostly out of indifference (she had been on edge ever since Finn had broken up with her) but she was completely untouched by this scandal, and therefore completely unbiased. If he cold get her to care enough to respond, he might be one step closer to understanding this rubbish, and maybe he could get some tips on how to be apathetic.
He would really like to not care anymore, very much, thank you, please.
Plan set, Mike shimmied his hand back behind him (not sliding across Puck's side in any way, totally not touching him) and retrieved his cell phone, pulling his knees to his chest to keep it concealed from the rest of the room. They already knew he wasn't paying attention, but there was no need to rub it in.
The only one who could call him out on it was Puck, and he was far too busy basking in his ego to give Mike any notice.
The dancer paused for a moment, considering how he should begin his…inquiry, and settled for something vague and harmless enough that the could back out of it easily, no strings attached, if pressed to do so.
He would not randomly and inappropriately burst out the status of his nonexistent sexual tension with Puck…that was nonexistent.
Mike took another glance around the room just to make sure he was in the clear (Mercedes and Kurt were arguing over…something, effectively holding everyone's attention) and then slowly began typing, hesitant when choosing his words.
Time 8:38 PM Wed, Jun 8
From: Mike
Hey, are you busy?
He doubled checked it before sending it, evaluating its perfection.
It was an innocent question and it wasn't liable to rain all holy hell down upon him, it was just… a friend asking about the status of another friend.
There were several painful minutes where he had to glue his eyes to the ceiling so he wouldn't be obviously staring at his phone in a most pitiful expression of longing, and he almost thought she was going to ignore him, or she was too busy, but eventually the phone buzzed back a response, and he checked it eagerly.
…But not too eagerly.
Time 8: 41 PM Wed, Jun 8
From: Quinn
What do you want?
Well, that was slightly better than what he had been expecting. He must have caught Quinn when she was in a good enough mood that she was at least willing to hear him out instead of outright rejecting his advances.
This was a good sign.
He chose his next words carefully, trying not to sound as desperate as he really was.
Time 8:43 PM Wed, Jun 8
From: Mike
A fresh perspective
The wait was worse this time, because now he actually had hope, that strange, elusive thing he had forgotten existed.
She didn't let him down, or, she didn't ignore him like he feared she would, deeming his issues as unworthy of her attention.
Time 8:45 PM Wed, Jun 8
From: Quinn
This is about you and Puck
…and that was it.
No question, no "isn't it?" at the end, just a statement, a pure fact leaving no room for argument. This had to be about him and Puck, which begged the question, how obvious was this problem that Quinn, ice queen extraordinaire (he would normally feel guilty about calling her that, even in his mind, but she had been very…angry since Prom and Nationals) noticed it?
Unsure of what to write, Mike settled for answering the unspoken question.
Time 8:46 PM Wed, Jun 8
From: Mike
Yes
Her reply was much faster this time, perhaps she had abandoned whatever she had been doing in favor of focusing solely on this, which was both comforting and worrisome.
Time 8:48 PM Wed, Jun 8
From: Quinn
I was wondering when this was going to happen.
The moron figure it out?
Mike blinked slowly, brain thoroughly exploded.
First sentence kind of made sense, so their… squabble was bound to happen, or Quinn at least thought so, but the second part was incredibly mind boggling and frustrating because which one of them was the moron and what had they supposedly figured out?
In Mike's hopelessly biased opinion it was Puck, and he had discovered he was stupid and was finally embracing it.
Hence the…all this.
Time 8:51 PM Wed, Jun 8
From: Mike
…figure what out?
Please Quinn, please feel nice enough to explain to this lowly dancer what the hell you mean.
Time 8:52 PM Wed, Jun 8
From: Quinn
The fact that he wants to make out with you, idiot.
Mike would have been insulted, but for some odd reason the barb came across almost fondly, so he looked past it, wondering if Zizes had taken her plan to Quinn first before hypnotizing Puck with it.
Hell, maybe they had done it together.
He didn't want to ruin the delicate balance he had achieved with any accusations though, so he moved on.
Time 8:53 PM Wed, Jun 8
From: Mike
I know, he told me. Just when I thought his ego couldn't get any bigger.
He smiled as he sent it, appealing to her distaste for all things Puckerman related. Hey, he was just trying to stay on her good side; it was just an added bonus that he alleviated some of the aggravation pent up because of his circumstances.
Except the pause that followed was longer than it should have been, because she should have immediately agreed with him, and then he could finally ask his questions, but her response was so off-putting that he never got the chance.
Time 8:54 PM Wed, Jun 8
From: Quinn
Are you retarded?
No, no he wasn't, but that didn't seem like the response she wanted to hear.
Thankfully she shed some light on his supposed retardation, explaining why the rapport he had been struggling so hard to achieve had been trashed. Of course…in hindsight Mike wished he had just given up on their conversation altogether after this point, as it would greatly compromise his decision making process.
Time 8:56 PM Wed, Jun 8
From: Quinn
He wants to romance you dipwad, then make out with you, it's painfully obvious
Mike stared at the phone uselessly, the world around him fading away until it was just him and that tiny glowing screen, words burning themselves into his brain.
He couldn't compute it, didn't want to compute it, because it was insane, and either girls had a greater appeal to romantics than he had previously assumed (and he had previously assumed that fondness was almost unmatched), or Quinn was hornier than he remembered, or she wanted to mess with his head, or…
He narrowed his eyes slowly, setting his jaw as he punched in his next message with renewed vigor.
Time 8:58 PM Wed, Jun 8
From: Mike
This isn't Quinn, is it?
He would bet anything it was Santana. She had nicked Quinn's phone and was now proceeding to wreak havoc on the world, beginning with poor, unsuspecting Asians.
That bitch.
But Quinn, or Santana, or whoever it was, messaged back quickly, annoyance practically radiating off of her words.
Time 9:00 PM Wed, Jun 8
From: Quinn
I'm willing to ignore that, where the hell are you?
That seemed honestly Quinn-like, but Mike was still confused how she could have suddenly become so out-of-touch with reality she thought Puck was trying to woo him. But that wasn't the kind of question you asked Quinn or Santana on a good day, let alone…whatever this was, so Mike kind of just glossed over it and set his sights on the possibility of rescue.
He hoped she wasn't really on their side for this. It would be really nice to have somebody on Team Chang.
Time 9:01 PM Wed, Jun 8
From: Mike
Mercedes', she and Kurt handcuffed me to the bed.
Which sounded a lot worse than he had meant it to, so he sent another message to attempt to clarify that they were holding him against his will in a completely un-sexual way, with the exception of Puck's advances, speaking of…
Time 9:02 PM Wed, Jun 8
From: Mike
Puck's here to.
Because…it could be relevant, and then Mike remembered the whole handcuffed-to-a-bed thing and sent Quintana another message.
Time 9:03 PM Wed, Jun 8
From: Mike
Soul intervention
There was a deliberate pause where they both wavered in uncertainty, Puck now arguing a point with Rachel, motioning wildly with his arms to support…something. Across the room Blaine watched Mike observe the side of his knee with an unhealthy fascination, the dancer jerking suddenly and bending his head down to get a closer look at his hidden cell phone.
Time 9:05 PM Wed, Jun 8
From: Quinn
Whatever. Look, just get the others to leave and make out with Puck.
What the hell was wrong with people nowadays? All Mike wanted to know was why Puck didn't respect him, and the only thing other peopled seemed to care about was getting them to hook up! In what alternate dimension was the appropriate response to anything? Even if Mike did go through with it, it would only serve to lower himself further in Puck's stupid world because it would be obvious Mike was too weak willed to freaking stand up for himself.
Mike glared at his phone again, as though it was the original source of his agony.
Time 9:06 PM Wed, Jun 8
From: Mike
You did plan this with Zizes!
He glared at his phone some more, challenging it, daring it to tell him otherwise because he knew, he was onto the secret female underground that was so intent on the dastardly deeds of forced-man-snogging, and Mike would not submit, he would not back down, he would fight their evil until his last dying breath, he would raise armies against their misdeeds, he would make right their injustices, he would punish their-
Mike never really realized just how obnoxiously loud his ringtone was, especially when he was trying so desperately hard to be stealthy. The entire room halted mid-conversation; staring at him as he felt the blood drain from his face, meekly bring the phone up to his ear just so he could stop the blasting tones of "Dance to This Song".
That was it; after he was released he was permanently changing his phone to 'Silent'.
He was sure if he was relieved by the fact that Quinn was the other person on the end of his line, but it wasn't like he got much time to contemplate it as the blonde began talking.
"I'll make this brief Chang," she murmured, tone warning that bullshit was not an applicable response in any way, shape, or form. "Puck's been mooning over you sense Kurt left." What the hell, she had been paying attention to them that long? "I would know, I've been on the other end of those googly eyes, and as much as I would love to tell you to keep doing what you're doing-" Because that was going so swimmingly. "-It would probably be a lot easier for you and for the rest of us if you would take one for the team."
This was the part where he was going to firmly object because while Quinn might own a marginal sliver of his soul, surrendered to her will because of her "Most popular girl at McKinley" status, he was not willing to do that.
Mindful of his objections, Quinn continued, seamlessly changing her tone from badass to almost comforting.
"Listen Mike," she urged, voice commanding but still…he didn't know, gentle, maybe? An out-of-practice gentle.
"I sympathize with you, I really do, but it's not as bad as it could be, and whatever…stupidity he is giving you right now, it will probably go away if…"
"If I put out?" Mike interjected softly, speaking up for the first time since this exchange had started while the Gossip Force Five leaned forward to unapologetically eavesdrop. Puck was the only one close enough to hear it, and while he didn't share the details, his fist pump was somewhat of a giveaway.
No- see, things were already going down hill, Puck pushed him around enough as it was, Mike didn't need to surrender more ground to him.
He could hear Quinn's evil smirk in her voice, a deadly kind of teasing that was the closest Mike would probably ever get to friendly.
"Don't go past first base," she warned, and Mike gawks, covering his face as it burns bright red. "If he wants more; make him wait until the third date."
He didn't want to wait till the third date, he wanted to become invisible, now, forever, or at least until the end of high school, when Puck's stupid opinion of him didn't matter as much anymore.
However...
It would be nice, for the moment, if Mike could get through a day without his hands itching to strangle Puck.
He ducked himself down slowly, pressing his cheek against his phone before timidly whispering, "…And you're sure it will all go away?"
The smirk was changing into a full on smile, and for the first time in a very long while Quinn sounded like her old queen bee self again.
"Better," she laughed, sharing the secret that all girls must know. "He will want nothing more than to do you bidding."
Which…made sense, shockingly enough.
It was how Tina got him to do things he didn't want to do (like meet her parents, or spend more than two minutes inside Hot Topic) and clearly that was how Zizes got Puck to do…anything.
It was a startling epiphany, but somehow everything just kind of…clicked together. It was perfectly logical. Hell, it was even better than any rational argument he could think up to get Puck to act somewhat decent.
This had to be like, the secret to world peace.
Mike let out a quiet sigh, agreeing with the idea but refusing to allow Puck the satisfaction of him not dragging his feet.
"…Fine," he whispered, wondering what he was getting into, and Puck whooped, leaping up and coercing a reluctant Kurt and an ever-confused Blaine into some high fives while Mercedes and Rachel demanded to be filled in on the dirty details.
Mike, still handcuffed to the bed, rubbed a hand across his eyes, totally drained, while Quinn gave him some final instructions before hanging up.
"Great, now don't call me back unless it's an emergency."
Mike flipped his phone closed quickly, sliding it back into his pocket while Puck proceeded to shoo everyone else out of the room with an all too familiar look of immense satisfaction, ignoring all their protests before slamming the door, turning back to Mike with a predatory look that the dancer knew he was going to become very accustomed to.
It was probably all inevitable anyway, he thought as Puck stalked his way across the room, opting to express his approval by beginning to ravish Mike's neck, which was surprisingly not awful.
Mike just wishes someone had uncuffed him first, you know, give him a fighting chance, but…
Thoughts become less easy to recognize when Puck bites down a certain…there, and Mike took a smidgeon of satisfaction in the fact that they had finally developed a way to effectively communicate.
Which, in its own little way, sort of made the agony worth it.
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Endnotes:
IT'S OVERR!
I think…probably. I will probably do another sequel that actually develops their relationship past "my girlfriend told me to/I just want some respect", I just wanted to end this one before I got into territories not promised by the summary.
There isn't a way that's good enough for me to say this, but thank you guys, all of you who reviewed last chapter and all the chapters before, you really made me feel at home in the Glee fandom, and it is a pleasure to write for you guys.
Seriously, you are tops, the cherry on the sundae, the moon on a string.
So here it is, one last round of applause for all you guys taking the time out to make me feel awesome, Gabwr, Rogue Ranger, PlotterFTW, strawberryfinn, SouthernHemmy, Ms. Perception, MysteriousUnknownStranger, Mathias, finlee, and Morkhan.
May the world rain happiness and sunshine down on you.
Also, additional thanks to everyone who story alerted/favorited, I'm glad you liked it, and the same kudos goes to you guys, much obliged!
Well, I think that's it, the ending might seem a bit abrupt but I wanted it to end before it got a little too repetitive, as much as I like me some Mike freaking out, there comes a time when everything must end.
Until next time.