A/N: Thank you for reading my story and the reviews! The bachelor party has come. Finally!

Disclaimer: I do not own Glee and its characters, and any resemblance to real persons or organizations is purely coincidental.

Chapter 14 – October 2017

Today was the day that Finn had been looking forward to the most other than the wedding: The bachelor party!

The Puck's one had been so much fun (of course, strippers involved). All the participants, including Finn, though, had been too trashed to remember the details of the party and afterwards, to be honest.

Not that it had been awful comparing to Doug Billings' (thank God, for lack of Alan type of friends), they somehow had ended up paying for the damage of the walls (by whoever of them had caused) at some strip club in Bronx (the club owner had known Puck very well and decided not to press charges against anyone).

What had made unforgettable the most was, Puck had had to stand at the altar with a black eye for whatever the reason (Nobody had been never able to figure it out, either. Regardless to say, Mr. and Mrs. Fabray still hated the guy's guts). Or worse, he had gone through Quinn's silent treatment during their honeymoon in Venice and Florence. In Rome, their final destination, Puck allegedly had managed to put her back in a good mood.

But who knows it was true? Nobody understood how they worked out, given that Quinn was now expecting their third child after her long refusal of copulating.

Mike's one had been clean. Very much clean, so very Mike. Nevertheless, it had been fun too. His parents had offered his (actually, Mike's grandfather's) summer house in Vermont for his bachelor party. Not only had they played golf, but enjoyed fishing, BBQ, Call of Duty marathon, and poker over the night (what was better, Finn had been the winner of the night, and he had got about 500 dollars!).

Sam's one had been so… blue. Literally blue. Yes, it was the color. Yes, it was Sam's obsession; the Avatar. Everybody's resistance in vain, Sam's college club fellows (Association of the study of Avatar, of course) had been in charge of everything of his bachelor party. And they had been forced to be painted by the blue color all over their faces and bodies to disguise themselves as the characters of the movie, just to play the fucking paintball.

Seriously, though. What was the point for them to be painted by the blue color all over their faces and bodies if they had to put the helmets with human hairs and blue body suits on during the games? How long did Sam think that it had taken them to wash off the blue paint? And all the signals should be spoken in the language of Na'vi? C'mon. Seriously.

Anyway.

Now was Finn's turn.

Finally.

As the starter, accepted by Finn's request, Mike had managed to get his father to offer one of the party suites at the Yankees Stadium that his company owned. Finn was a Mets' fan rather than Yankees', but they had no choice because the Mets sucked this season. So, all the boys—Finn, Kurt, Puck, Sam, Mike, Artie, Elliott, Blaine, Dave, and Spencer—had been there in the afternoon. They had really enjoyed the first game of the playoffs against the Detroit Tigers with a fantastic view. Even Kurt had been thrilled (mostly because of his first suite experience).

The finest moments for Finn at the suite were that every one of Kurt's attempts at hindrance to his intake of a lot of beer and greasy food had failed, and of course that the Yankees had gotten a walk-off win.

The second part was Artie's idea; Laser Tag. The suspenders enthusiast deified Barney Stinson, despite the fact that he had never worn suits on a daily basis. Puck was the eagerest one to play Laser Tag, though he decided that the TV show was some shit for chicks when Artie referred to his idol. The no-more-Mohawk even bragged that the writers of the show had stolen the idea of Bro Code from his college years' experiences (earning snorts and eye-rolls from everyone, of course).

Kurt, on the other hand, didn't seem pleasure of playing Laser Tag, like, at all. It was understandable for the other guys, though. Unlike the other gay friends, Kurt hadn't ever played violent video games or sports for that matter (except for the one and only time that he had played football as a kicker when he had still been in the closet).

"Okay, I'm done," Kurt pushed himself off the ground right after he had gotten shot from behind, by one of the same team—Puck, who was laughing his ass off right now. "Yeah, yeah. You can laugh at me all you want, Puckerman!" he yelled, stepping out of a metallic barrel before adding under his breath, "You'll be sorry for that later."

Kurt took his vest and phaser off before redoing his hair deliberately. "I'll be waiting for you guys out there," he declared, pointing in the locker room direction. "I have to check our limo and restaurant reservations anyway," with that, he disappeared into the locker room.

"Dude! The fuck? Are you nuts?" Finn shoved Puck by the shoulder violently. "He's on the same team!" he whisper-shouted. "You just gave Spence's team 2000 fucking points for nothing!"

"Spence's got shooting accuracy. Kurt would've gotten in our way, anyway," Puck said in a low voice nonchalantly with a shrug before forcing Finn to hide behind another barrel. "But I'm way better than Spence. Just watch and learn," he grinned, roving around to resume the game.

Little did Puck and Finn know that this was all planned out by Kurt (actually, by Santana). Kurt had been willing to get shot by Puck or someone else whether he was on the same team with Puck or not.

"Now I'm all by myself," Kurt whispered in his cell phone in the locker room.

Say your prayers, Puckerman!

Soon as Rachel entered her green room shortly after the show finished, her cell phone in her purse rang loudly. "Hello, Santana," she greeted once she swiped the screen to put the phone on speaker.

"You're sure you won't be coming?"

"I told you. I have a matinee tomorrow. I need my beauty sleep," Rachel responded, her voice sounding slight annoyance because this was the thousandth time Santana asked this week. Besides, her face was still smeared with her sweats and heavy make-up from the show. She grabbed her make-up remover from the vanity, keeping her speak. "Why so persistent?"

"Because you'll love this."

"Why don't you just spill the beans? What are you guys gathering for?" Rachel asked as she started spreading out the remover on her entire face.

"Public viewing."

"Of what?" Rachel stopped her hand for a second. "If you mean Artie's another experimental short film, I guess I'll pass."

"Possibly somewhat, you can say that. But specifically no. it's not Artie's another shit screening. It's kinda reality show. Or better, it's a live coverage, if you must know."

"But about what?" Rachel frowned, roughly pulling tissues. "What makes you guys so enthused?" she asked as she heard her other friends yelling at Santana's phone to encourage Rachel to join them.

"Let's say that it's my version of Punk'd."

"Your version of Punk'd?" Rachel sat up straighter on the chair, putting two and two together. "And it's a live coverage? Don't tell me that you're gonna sabotage Finn's bachelor party!"

"It's not sabotage, Rachel. I'll even let them enjoy massive tits in their faces."

"What? In their faces?" Rachel widened her eyes, almost dropping the bottle of her remover from her hand. "I thought they would just watch the jello wrestling to have some fun. Finn will be wrestling against girls in the jello pool? Oh, no. No, no, no!" she stared at the phone screen in disbelief.

"Relax, Berry. It's not like he'll be actually having sex with those wrestlers. It's a bachelor party. Let him bury his face in what you don't have before he gets on your ball and chain."

"I'm highly offended, Santana! I do have boobs!" Rachel yelled at the phone screen with a huff, wiping her hands with tissues.

"Yeah, yeah, whatever."

"Alright, I'm in," Rachel decided. "Tell me what time and where the public viewing happens," she grabbed a piece of paper and pen to write down the place and time.

"Uh-huh. I'll be there in an hour."

"Here's the rule," Puck patted Finn on the back. "You have to bet on each bout. And when you lose, you down a shot."

"And when I win?" Finn asked. He sounded already intoxicated because of a lot of beer from Yankees Stadium and the booze from the dinner at some fancy restaurant. "Can I wrestle Rachel?"

"That's not gonna happen here," Puck scoffed while Sam chuckled at the groom. "Here, drink this up," he offered a shot glass of Tequila for Finn.

"Why can't I?" Finn whined, but downed the shot nonetheless. "I wanna wrestle with Rachel."

"Yeah, yeah," Puck rolled his eyes. "You can do whatever you want to with Berry, but only after the party, not now. You just enjoy the last night of free-Berry."

"You don't answer my question," Finn pouted, fiddling with the yellow sash on which was written 'Bachelor at Play.' "What would I get if I win the bet?"

"You get another shot," Sam answered for Puck, offering another shot for Finn. "And another rule, the groom-to-be can't ever refuse hootch whoever offers during the party."

When Finn was opening his mouth to retort, the crowd roared loudly along with a referee's announcement.

First bout, we gain in 127 poooooounds, the former WMW champiooooon Haaaaaaleeeeeeey Rooooooosemaaaaan. Aaaaaaand–

The referee pointed to one particular young female among the crowd.

–ladies and gentlemen, 22 year-old, college student, Jaaaaamiiiieee Hancooooooooccccck frooooom Neeeeew Jeeeeeerrrrrseeeeey!

The second that the girl named Jamie was introduced to the crowd, she stepped out of it, pulled her tank top over her head and took the rest of her clothes and shoes off. The party goers gave loud wolf-whistles and hands claps to her who was now only clad in a bra and panties.

"Damn!" Artie cried out. "Goers involved?" he shimmied with excitement. "I'm so stoked right now! What are we gonna bet on?"

"The champ tears that girl's bra off, and her tits are completely revealed, 5 bucks," Sam declared, slamming a 5 dollar bill on the bar counter.

"Oooohhh, I like that," Artie rubbed his hands together. "I'm in that one," he pulled out his wallet to take a 5 dollar bill out. Mike reluctantly followed Artie while Finn and Puck bet on the girl's panties instead of her bra.

"Woooooo, that cheeky look like Rachel's," Finn gestured to Jamie's panties. "You know what cheeky is?" he turned his head right and left to see his friends' reaction. "I know what it is," he puffed up his chest proudly, "because I've been panties shopping with Rachel, um, uh–" he tilted head to one side before counting days and months with his fingers.

Meanwhile, the other guys, the gay guys, of Finn's friends and brother were standing across the floor, mostly because it was much easier for them to direct their cameras in the form of the tin badge 'We're Groomsmen' to the straight guys. They chuckled, seeing them getting excited with the jello wrestling.

"Why on the earth do straight guys get so turned on by cat fights?" Kurt shook his head before sipping his white wine.

"I actually like to see two or more women making out," Blaine responded nonchalantly with a shrug.

"Really?" Spencer turned to look at the gel haired guy in disbelief. "You swing both ways?"

"I'm not saying that I get turned on when I see make-out between girls," Blaine amended. "And I'm gay, 100% gay. I've kissed a girl in high school, twice, and that actually made me convince it."

"Do you know what Puck's favorite movie is?" Spencer looked over the gay guys before eyeing his partner who was now vigorously laughing at the groom's drunken state.

"I'm sure that is one of the action ones, bib boobs involved," Kurt snorted. "Or rather, does he watch movies?" he doubted.

"Nope," Spencer simply answered before confiding. "Puck loves Black Swan."

"Woooo, I get it," Blaine gave the shaved head detective a smirk.

"I get it, too," Elliott nodded. "He loves it because of Natalie Portman and Mila Kunis lesbian scene, right?" which he earned Spencer's thumb-up.

"I understand why," Blaine continued. "That was actually hot. I guess Puck would love Chloe, too, then. You know, a remake of Nathalie…," he chuckled. "It's for guys like Puck, you know, who are attracted to older women too."

"I prefer Amanda Seyfried if I had to choose to fuck–"

Kurt wrinkled his nose at his ex's current boyfriend's comment.

"–but Julian Moore is kinda MILF, I guess," Dave continued. "We would watch those kinds of movies together," he draped his arm over Blaine's shoulder with a grin. "But we would watch gay movies, too."

"By movies, you mean porno," Kurt murmured with an eye-roll, keeping taking a ship of his wine.

"Alright, I don't need this conversation, you know, vagina involved. So, top 5 gay movies of all time. Go," Spencer changed the subject while keeping an eye on the guys across the floor, well, not so much, because all they had to do was their bodies directing to Puck.

"How did you manage this whole thing?" Rachel slid herself in the round sofa next to Santana, looking over the crowded floor—where the large screen was set up.

"Artie," Santana simply answered. "Don't be so surprised, Berry," she said, seeing Rachel sporting a quizzical look all over her face. "Sam, Mike and Artie got so pissed off about what Puckerman forced them into at your bachelorette party. They're so on. Now Kitty, as a switcher, is waiting for my cue at their apartment with Tina," she informed, placing a plug attached to her cell phone into her ear.

"Switcher?" Rachel returned her gaze with wide open eyes. "You mean, you hid multiple cameras in the jello wrestling club?"

"Actually, all the guys, except Puck and Finn, are wearing the cameras," Santana said after a swig of her shot. "Oh, hey, Quinn! 'Cedes! You made it!" she held her hand up in the air to let Puck's and Sam's wives know their presence.

"Wait, Finn doesn't know? Why?" Rachel leaned forward against the table, starting worrying about what could possibly happen to her fiancé. "Aren't you going to hurt or humiliate Finn, are you? Please tell me you're not going to do such a thing!"

"Chill out, Berry," Santana patted Rachel on the shoulder before offering her untouched shot glass for the petite brunette to have. "Finnocence will be fine. Our one and only target is–"

"My idiot of a husband," Quinn finished Santana's sentence, perching herself on the sofa on the other side of the Latina while Mercedes took a vacant spot next to Rachel.

"I have the strict discipline of alcohol intake during the shows. So thanks, but no thanks," Rachel stubbornly shook her head, pushing the glass back toward Santana.

"Boring," Santana made a face. "But fine," she pulled her shot glass before downing it.

Ignoring Santana's comment, Rachel turned her attention to the blonde. "You don't mind your husband being pranked? Finn told me that he had ended up exposing his genital on the stage. Isn't it enough for him to be punished?"

"You are damn soft on Puckerman," Santana quipped.

"I'm not!" Rachel protested. "I-I just feel sorry for what I did to him, you know, I threw up on him at the party the other night. That's it."

"Oh, don't feel sorry about that, Rachel," Quinn replied matte-of-factly, waving her hand dismissively. "He needs to stop infantile behavior before this baby is born," she gently rubbed her still flat belly. "I hope this would be some drastic measure."

Santana nodded affirmatively. "He sabotaged your bachelorette party, Rachel. Sure, he exposed his own gun on the stage. But the fact remains that he robbed our opportunity to get entertained by REAL strippers. Who the hell wants to see Puckerman's dick and Hudson's incompetent dance?" she held her hand up to the blonde before quickly adding. "No offence, Q."

"No taken," Quinn shrugged.

"Finn's dance is not incompetent! He's an adorable dancer!" Rachel huffed, her arm crossing in front of chest.

"Whatever," Santana scoffed with an eye-roll.

"So? How's everything going?" Mercedes cleared her throat, not wanting pointless argument. "When does it get started?"

Santana glanced down at her wrist watch before lifting her head up to look over the girls with a grin and announcing with her outstretched arms.

"Now it's show time!"

"Next bout," the referee dropped his gaze at his clipboard in his hand. "Woooooo, we have a special guest here!" he announced before lifting his head to look over the crown. "We've got a groom-to-be, 221 lbs, music teacher at elementary school, ladies and gentlemen, Fiiiiiiiiiiinnnn, Hudsooooooooooon!" he pointed to one particular 6' 3" in the crowd.

Finn, who got really drunk thus far, roved around to search for a guy who had been mentioned, oblivious to the fact that the guy the referee had called was actually himself.

"Dude!" Puck slapped Finn on the back of his head. "Go get some naughty bits!" he shoved him forward, which caused Finn to stumble.

"Rachel's tits?" asked Finn over his shoulder with slurring tongue. "I can wrestle Rachel?"

However, Puck couldn't pick up the words Finn had said because the crowd got loud once Finn was forced to step forward.

"Okay. He's a huge. Now we need two, no, THREE girls against him! Who wanna rumble this guy?" the referee scanned over the crowd, placing his hand above his forehead.

And about ten to a dozen of the girls in the crowd eagerly raised their hands.

"Alright, cutie pie over there," the referee pointed to a soft curly red haired young girl. "And sexy kitten over there," next he pointed to a tall brunette librarian kind of woman. "And you, sweetheart," lastly he pointed to a blonde girl with long legs.

Then the referee grabbed Finn by his shoulder, whispering in his ear. "By the way, remember you keep clean to make it through. Okay? You aren't allowed to touch some specific areas, you know, nipples and vaginas," he warned and pushed him into the jello pool before making his declaration to the crowd. "And the winner or winners get 5 grands!"

Puck smirked. This was going to be legendary. If the ladies took off all the layers of Finn's clothes, not only did Finn have to expose his Finnkfurter to every one of the party goers (of course, he was going to film it), but he could get 1000 dollars from the girls.

"Alright, now I'll bet 10 bucks on Finn," Artie said, shifting his gaze from Puck to Finn, who now was standing in the middle of the jello pool, but seemed to have no idea where he was.

"Ten bucks on the girls winning," Puck said, pulling out his cell phone from the back pocket, preparing to take some pictures of his best friend's embarrassing moment (and to use them to get Berry pissed).

Artie rolled his eyes before turning his head toward Sam and Mike. Before he opened his mouth, however, one of the club staff struck a gong and the crowd got much louder for him to keep the conversation with his friends.

The three girls literally jumped in Finn's body at the same time the gong was rang. One of them tried their best to pull his sash and T-shirt off over his head while the others began unbuckling his belt.

Finn, somehow still holding his shot glass in his hand, fell on his backside in an attempt to shake the girls' hands off his body.

"Ooofffff," Finn moaned from the pain of his ass. Then his half opened eyes shifted to his surroundings. "Um, what is– Ggggggrrrrr."

When Finn was opening his mouth to ask something to the girls around him, one of them put her forefinger with full of jello into it, which made him gag and cough hard. However, once he stopped coughing and swallowed the jello, his eyes lit up.

"It tastes strawberries!" Finn declared with a grin. "It tastes like Rachel!" he repeated before looking around to see two girls, who now were smearing the jello all over his naked upper body. "Where's Rachel?" his eyes were unfocused. So, he squinted, trying to see clearly what was going on in front of him.

Totally unaware that the other girl with redhead succeeded in pulling his jeans from his legs, Finn poked his forefinger in one of the blonde girl's boobs before his nose. "Hmm, too big, too fake," he slurred before turning his head to the other girl's boobs. "Oh, your boobs look like Rachel. You know, my Rachel's boobs are like–" he tried to make air-boobs with his hands to recreate Rachel's breasts on his chest.

"Rachel would kill us if he keeps doing that," Mike shouted in the ear of Sam, who was chuckling at Finn. "Now it's time. Do it!" he shoved Sam by the back as hard as possible toward the detective who was filming with his cell phone.

Sam purposely wobbled and stumbled toward Puck, pretending to be too much drunk before dragging him in the pool's direction. "Oooooppppsss!" he cried out as he shoved Puck into the pool violently.

Gong. Gong. Gong. Gong.

"The fuck?" Puck pulled his face from the jello pool, removing sticky contents from his eyes.

"Stop!" the referee called for intervention, crouching down, placing his hands to one of the blonde girl's arm to prevent her from pushing Finn's boxers down. "This is not two platoons," he shook his head, glaring at Puck. Then he got to his feet, looking over the crowd. "What is the first rule about the jello wrestling club?" he said, cupping his ear with a hand to ask the crowd.

"You DO NOT fight unless you are called!"

"Say what?" the referee asked again, his hand still behind his ear, encouraging the crowd to get louder.

"You DO NOT fight unless you are called!"

The referee nodded in satisfactory. "And if you break the rule?"

"You HAVE TO fight!"

Puck pushed himself off the pool to get to his feet. But he couldn't be mad at Sam. Fight? Fight some girls only clad in bikini or undergarment? He plastered a smug face. Bring it on. He thought. He was willing to do that.

When Puck was about to enter the pool again (where Finn was still sitting in a total drunk while all the girls were forced to get out of), however, the referee stop him. "You need to change," he demanded.

"What?" Puck arched his eyebrow. "Change? What the hell are you talking about? Nobody has changed to fight here!"

"You broke the first rule. I don't think you want to break the others," the referee said in a threatening tone.

"And if I refuse?" Puck challenged.

"You're gonna pay 5 grands, or the guys over there," the referee jerked his chin toward the direction where three men like Ving Rhames in Pulp Fiction were standing, "might be beating the shit out of you. You choose."

"You should know that I'm a cop," Puck closed the distance between him and the referee.

"So? I've not committed any crimes whatsoever," undaunted, the referee spat, "yet."

"Fine!" Puck held up his hands in the air.

The referee nodded to the big guys, getting them to follow Puck into the back room.

Over his shoulder, Puck glanced at Finn, who Mike, Artie and Sam were pulling out of the jello pool, thinking whatever he had to put on, it couldn't be worse than at Berry's bachelorette party. Besides, he was going to jello-wrestle with girls in a bra and panties. He shrugged as he pushed the back room door.

Much to Mercedes' relief, her petite brunette of a friend was sleeping (and snoring), placing her head on the table, while the footage of her fiancé was playing on the screen.

By the time the third bout had started, Rachel got bored and felt exhausted from the show. With her finals words 'What's so interesting about the jello wrestling? I don't understand,' she fell asleep.

Rachel might not get mad at Finn since her giant of a fiancé had been too much drunk to take the girls' undergarments off. Yet, if she was still awake, she got fumed and jealous of some girls in this bar.

"Oh, look! He's cute," one of the female customers squeaked.

"Dammit! We would've seen his junk if that guy didn't interrupt!" another girl with blonde spat.

"How big do you think his dick is?" the other woman with short hair asked her friends with a grin.

"You know, he's a very very tall guy, so," the first one giggled frantically. "He would give me the best mind blowing sex that I've ever had."

"He shouldn't get married, you know. He should share his tool with as many girls as he can," the blonde seemed upset.

"Those girls are way too overrating Hudson's junk. Just because a guy's tall, was not that he has a big fat dick," Santana snorted, ignoring Mercedes' eye-roll. "Besides, size doesn't matter. I bet they've never gotten guys who know how to use their tools and they don't know how to have them swing their bats correctly, either."

Mercedes shook her head and rubbed her temple with a forefinger as she heard them objectifying the petite brunette's soon-to-be-husband. She glanced at Rachel out of the corner of her eyes, hoping that she would keep sleeping until the sun came up.

The fuck?

Why the fuck are those here?

"Are you fucking kidding me?" Puck spat, turning around to face the three big security guys. "Why the hell should I wear those?"

"You broke the rule," one of the security guys answered calmly, crossing his arms, a big dragon tattoo glaring at Puck.

"It was an accident," Puck also folded his arms across his chest.

"It doesn't matter," another guy stepped forward. "5 grands or what?"

"Shake a fucking leg," the other guy grabbed the costume that looked very alike the one which Puck had been forced to wear at Berry's bachelorette party. He now realized that this was all planned out by… Hmmm, not Berry, but some of her friends. Berry loved to make a plan, but not a prank, an elaborate prank.

Puck gritted his teeth, clenching his fists beside his body, not only because he was the one to get punk'd, but because his prank toward Finn had failed. But now his brain wasn't functioning rightly because of booze.

"Alright," Puck held his hands up in defeat before snatching the costume from one of the security guys' hands.

With or without this costume, at least he could get some girls stripped.

"Alright, now our final bout," the referee broke the silence, eyeing the back room door directed multiple spotlights on. "Our neighbor, ladies and gentlemen, Noah Puckeeeeermaaaaaan!"

The second the referee pointed to the back room door, all the party goers roared with whistles, shouts and hands claps, anxious to see what costume he was on.

Puck, who was wearing a black faux leather cock pouch, studded harness crossing his bare chest, a police hat on his head, slammed the door open in a sullen manner. Yet, it made only the crowd get louder, boos included.

The referee glanced at Puck with a smirk for a second before turning his attention to the crowd. "Given that he swings on that way, we need a guy who would like to tangle with–" he took a pause before announcing. "Fuck it! All of the guys who would like to tangle with him, take off your shirts and get on the boat!"

Puck widened his eyes, freezing on the spot.

All the gay guys (except Kurt, Elliott, Blaine, Dave and Spencer, of course) took off their shirts and pants and kicked off their shoes as quickly as they could, and literally and eagerly attacked Puck's body.

"AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!"

Mike, Artie and Sam shared high-fives as Puck's figure disappeared under the drooling guys.

As for Finn, he was completely tuned out the uproar in the club. He fell fast asleep, placing his head on the bar counter, dreaming about jello-wrestling with Rachel in some big pool at somewhere.

"Mission accomplished," Santana smirked, pulling her plug out of her ear. "The wheel is come full circle."

A/N: Though I say it myself, poor Puck. :(

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