I know. I stink. I really hope to get this finished before Season 3. Cross your fingers for me and send me happy thoughts.
Previously on Fuickleberry: Puck, Rachel, Finn and Quinn set off from Lima, Ohio on the first day of summer break to rescue a presumably kidnapped Mike and Matt Rutherford. Puck runs out of gas while they are in hot pursuit of a lojacked truck. They get picked up by Brandi Walton, Jesus lover/truck driver extraordinaire and she threatens to baptize the evil Jews. They epically escape to the woods, Quinn kills a bunny for bunny stew and Rachel gets everyone high with organic mushrooms. They head on the road again and carjack a used car salesman and get to Hershey, PA, where they assume their kidnapped Glee club teammates are, however, they find the Hummels, Carol and Mercedes' peeps on vacay. Finn throws a rock through Burt's car again, and the kids run into Jesse St. James, who has lost his scholarship to UCLA and spends his days performing at the themepark in a giant and hot and sweaty bearsuit. Adding insult to more insults to Jesse, the Gleek's team up and take first place in the singing competition at the theme park and head west in search of Mike and Matt...who haven't quite been kidnapped, but are definitely some kind of hostages to Santana and Brittany.
Fuickleberry Saves the World: The Dramatic and Badass Rescue of Mike Chang and Matt Rutherford!
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
"What are you doing, Brittany?"
Mike and Matt had instantaneous, identical reactions to Santana's gentle, curious, almost cute question. She had been ranting and raving at the for days on end. Non-stop. Never ending. Horror show. They wanted to tear their eardrums out and shove them in their eyesockets kind of horror. But the minute she was talking to Brittany, it was all warm syrup cuddles and fluffy Downy dryer sheet scented stuffed animals.
"Drawing," Brittany hummed happily as she doodled on a wide variety of napkins they had collected throughout their journey.
"Drawing what?" Mike asked curiously.
"Ministrations," Brittany shrugged as she scribbled happily with the crayons that Santana had happily appropriated from the Denny's they had gotten breakfast from that morning.
"Illustrations?" Matt wondered.
"Story pictures. Ministrations," Brittany said slowly.
The chuckle in Matt's throat died as he got a laser like movement out of the corner of his eye and saw Santana's harsh, evil glare find him in the rearview mirror. Mike glared at Matt in a similar fashion before reaching up to the front seat and swiping one of the napkins. Sure enough, they were filled with stick figures enacting some kind of scene. One of them was Puck. That was easy enough to figure out, as the stick figure had well-muscled arms and a mohawk. Another one had to be Finn, as the stick figure was so long that there was no head to it, just a giant body.
The two stick figures seemed to be having a good time, standing in front of a bar and knocking back beers. Mike smiled at the music notes scribbled across the page and the speech bubble coming from Finn singing "Open Arms".
"It looks accurate. Do you think that's what those guys are doing right now?" Mike wondered.
"No," Brittany shook her head. "I know that's what they're doing right now."
"My girl is so smart," Santana beamed at Brittany before focusing back on the road.
"What else is going to happen?" Mike wondered, ignoring Matt's eye roll. "I mean, where are the girls while the boys are drinking? And why are the boys chilling at a bar when they're supposed to be all worried about us and stuff?"
"That's what I'm drawing now!" Brittany grinned, waving a napkin in the air.
Mike squinted and furrowed his brow at what he could see from the fluttering napkin. There was the cartoonish dustup illustation, complete with asterisks and Batman-like kaplows. There was even a large amount of fire in the background. It looked like one ginourmous shit storm.
"Oh boy," Mike muttered. "That can't be good."
"I'm very, very, very worried about the boys," Quinn said quietly as Rachel exited the bathroom of their motel room, coming through her tangled hair.
"They haven't returned yet?" Rachel gasped, dropping the comb to the floor.
Quinn rolled her eyes and picked up the comb, forcefully shoving Rachel onto one of the plastic pleather chairs that she was sure were from 1967. She gripping Rachel's shoulder gently until the girl stopped squirming and obviously worked at fighting back her flight response to imminent danger. Quinn reached past Rachel and grabbed the leave-in conditioner she had used earlier, and said with a calm softness inches away from Rachel's ear,
"I don't want you to panic. I really kind of doubt they got arrested or anything."
"I apologize, but with the events of this summer so far, the only logical next step is that someone ends up incarcerated," Rachel admitted, biting her lip anxiously.
"If that happens, you and Puck will figure it out. And if its you both getting thrown into jail, I'll do my best," Quinn smiled as she pulled the wide-toothed comb through Rachel's wet, tangled hair with surprising gentleness. "I think we should braid it, two pigtails. That way with the conditioner, when we take them out, you'll look all soft and pretty."
Rachel swallowed and turned her head as much as she could while Quinn continued her ministrations on her hair. She could practically FEEL her own eyes soften in a way they had only ever done for Noah previously as she tried to peek at Quinn, who had just presumably called her, Rachel Berry, pretty.
Quinn rolled her eyes and gave a slightly exasperated sigh before firmly turning Rachel's head so that she could plait the long brown locks neatly. She finished with a flourish and nodded, "Totally cute."
"Thank you, Quinn," Rachel smiled softly. Her hands fiddled with the ends of the braided pigtails and her soft smile turned into a real grin. "Want to go and find our boys?"
"Yeah, I'm starving, actually," Quinn nodded. "I hope they got cheese fries..."
"Dude. How long does it take to make cheese fries?" Finn grumbled.
"SHUT. UP." Puck growled. He brought the bottle of beer up to his lips and swigged the precious brown amber liquid down. "We got served without even breaking out the fake ids. And you know if we act like little bitches about how long the food is taking, they're just going to spit in it and do gross shit to it."
"It's not like they're not going to mess with already since you had to put in Rachel's special no deliciousness order," Finn rolled his eyes, taking another swig of his third beer. He shrugged and wondered, "Don't you just wish sometimes that she was more...normal?"
"Fuck that noise," Puck grumbled.
"Yeah, yeah, you're like in love with her, whatever, get real for a minute," Finn insisted in annoyance. He didn't quite know what he was after, but he wanted Puck to say the wrong thing. Just once. "It'd be easier if she were normal."
"She's Rachel," Puck shook his head, taking a swig of his beer. "I hate normal. Normal's boring. Rachel is...Rachel. I like her as is, dude. And you honestly thought you loved her? When all you can think about is changing her?"
Finn had no easy answer, and instead drained the rest of his bottle. Puck followed suit and the bartender quickly replaced the bottles with new ones. Puck couldn't help but feel he shouldn't have paid their dinner bill with that hundred, because he was beginning to think there was some kind of scam going on to get the rest of the change he had pocketed. He didn't notice when the front door to the bar swung open and the bartender jerked his head in their direction.
"Good evening, boys," a dulcet tone interrupted both of the boys' concentration. They looked up to see the owner of the voice was one busty and flirty looking red head.
"New in town?" her blonde companion wondered with a smile.
"Stopping by for that big NFL combine thing?" the redhead wondered congenially.
"You look like a football player," the blonde cooed, her arm finding Finn's bicep and giving it a playful squeeze.
Puck made one incredulous face and looked down at his awesome guns and scoffed out loud, perhaps a little more drunkenly than he realized. His guns were way more impressive than Finnessa's. Everyone knew that. His Berry-pants damn well knew that.
"Don't worry, sweetie, I think you're totally lickable," the red-head reassured him. And then to prove her point, she brought her mouth to the shell of his ear and Puck nearly jumped out of his skin, as he hadn't realized that she was that close.
"GET YOUR HANDS OFF OF HIM, YOU GINGER-HARLOT!"
Puck's eyes widened as he heard the door to the bar slam shut behind one newly arrived Rachel and Quinn. They looked pissed.
Shit was about to go down.
Finn's jaw dropped in an almost comical manner as he watched Rachel continue to scream insults, although he knew that his brain had done him some small mercy and blocked the sound out. He was more concerned with the incredibly silent Quinn as she walked with graceful steps towards him and the unknown blonde who was currently trying to crawl on him standing upright. That was a bad look in those green eyes. He had seen Santana cry after being verbally smacked down by Quinn and the look in her eyes then was nothing compared to the darn near murderous glint in Quinn's eyes now.
"Can you shut that midget freak up?" the redhead demanded of Puck.
Things kind of went to hell after that.
Puck flinched in disgust and stepped away from the girl that had obviously marked he and Finn as potential future meal tickets. He was about to tell her to jump off a cliff when someone else intervened. It was a blur of activity then, like a Tazmanian Devil blur of activity, but from what Puck saw, was that Quinn was slamming the red-head into the bar angrily.
"Don't call her a midget freak!" Quinn growled lowly.
"Wow. Honest to god Lezbos," the blonde smirked.
"Excuse me?" Rachel asked quietly.
"Seriously, chick, this ain't no big city. We've never seen the Ellen show, much less the live lezbo act."
"I'm going to ignore your completely atrocious grammar and instead I'm going to focus every ounce of determination in my admittedly small frame into DESTROYING YOUR FACE," Rachel promised, with just that little ounce of insanity that Puck really actually sort of loved about her.
"Shouldn't be too hard, Berry-pants," Puck grinned. "Chick's totally not all there in the face."
"DUDE," Finn whispered to Puck as Rachel and Quinn pushed their respective fight club partner. "Don't egg her on."
"It's fucking hot, though," Puck shrugged.
Finn watched as Quinn completely manhandled the red-head across the bar, and even with the sound of girl screeching and other patrons yelling and glass smashing, he had to admit it was pretty hot. That was until a bottle of vodka smashed over the open flame of a flickering candle. And soon the hot cat fight got literally hot. As in the whole bar was now set ablaze.
"POLICE! FREEZE!"
"Oh shit," Puck breathed as he watched Rachel and Quinn finish off the girls with one last respective shove. He caught Rachel's glance and he managed to mouth two words to her before giving her a wink.
"How in the heck are we going to get them out of this mess?" Finn wondered as the bartender calmly put out the fire on the bar, then handed them two bags of takeout. He watched as Rachel and Quinn were taken out with the other girls in handcuffs.
"Don't worry," Puck shrugged, grabbing the bags and heading for the door. "I've got it covered."
Is Brittany psychic? Is Faberry on? Will Puck never not be turned on by girl on girl action of any kind, shape or flavor? What kind of plan could Puck and Rachel possibly have to avoid possible incarceration? All of these questions and so many more will be answered eventually. Love you all.