In an unfair world full of unfair things, Puck thought the most unfair thing of all was Kurt Hummel with a popsicle.

This was some not right shit.

Because Hummel fucking had to know what he was doing; there was no way it was an accident. No one just woke up one morning and said Hey, I think I'll give head to frozen goodness in the cafeteria.

No one.

Except fucking Kurt Hummel.

And, holy shit, that tongue was fucking amazing. Red and wet and nimble and long.

Puck curled his lip and growled softly. He was not getting hard watching Hummel suck off a popsicle. He absolutely was not. Because that would be pathetic.

And he was not gay.

Or even bi. Not at all.

Nope.

He slid his eyes over to Hudson and – big surprise – Finn was just fucking enraptured, staring at Hummel going to town on a fucking popsicle.

Puck then looked around for an adult, because clearly one was needed. This was downright pornographic, and Hummel, with his red tongue and clear skin and perfect hair and angelic voice and fucking bowtie…it was just wrong.

Where the hell was Sylvester? She'd put a stop to this nonsense quickfast.

But Mr. Schue was the only one on duty, and Puck noticed with a raised eyebrow that Schue was looking at anything but Hummel.

Puck decided this was a good thing, because he knew Schue wasn't into dudes, despite all the singing and dancing. Schue was married to that hot crazy bitch and was having some Hallmark Hall of Fame Moments with Pillsbury. So the fact that even Schue was getting hot and bothered by Hummel made Puck feel that he himself wasn't a raging homo, even though his traitorous dick was drooling like a mouthbreather. Or Brittany.

Okay, he could get through this. He was fucking Noah Puckerman, badass. Lunch was almost over. One fairy with a dessert was not going to unseat his confidence.

Right!

And it would have worked, too, if he hadn't seen Berry staring at Hummel with naked hunger in her eyes.

That just made him see red. She wouldn't let him touch her boobs, but she was making cow eyes at the gay kid because he was licking a popsicle? What the fuck was that? Granted, that tongue was amazing, and Puck couldn't help but think what it would look like on his dick or in Berry's snatch, which, he was sure, by now, was sopping.

He grimaced and darted his eyes to find something else – anything else – to occupy him. Unfortunately, they landed on Mercedes, who was glaring back at him, all but daring him to say something about her popsicle-sucking BFF.

Well, fuck that. That was some action he just didn't need. Not a lot in the world scared him, but that bitch sure as hell did, because he knew her bite was as bad as, if not worse than, her bark.

Quinn! Where the hell was Quinn? She'd make an excellent distraction. Always had. Yeah!

Oh.

Sitting next to Hummel, whispering in his ear. They were gleek partners for the week. And then Hummel starting nodding at whatever she was saying, and a drop of popsicle juice escaped the corner of his mouth and slid down slowly to his chin.

And Finn fucking moaned. And was completely unaware that he had done so. Typical.

Oh, hell no. He knew about the crush Hummel had on Finn, and Finn knew about it too. And now, Puck was sure that Finn's pea brain was filled with thoughts of Hummel's glittery mouth on various disco sticks, especially his own.

Wait, what?

Fuck.

Fucking Hummel always playing Lady fucking Gaga just before rehearsals.

Then Hummel's tongue poked out and swallowed up that drop of fruit juice and Puck was done. He was fucking over it.

He didn't care that Hummel was gay. He didn't care if blowjobs between dudes was gay. All he understood was that his cock always knew what it wanted, and right then, it wanted Kurt Hummel's mouth pretty fucking badly.

But then Hudson stood up, like a huge dumb wildebeest ready to charge.

Well, fuck that.

"Oh, no you don't," Puck muttered, rising to his feet and taking off like a shot.

But Finn was right on heels. Fucking quarterbacks.

Still, Puck got there first. "Hey, Hummel!" He smothered a satisfied grin when Hummel automatically flinched. "I need your help."

Immediately, Hummel's arrogance rose to the fore as threw one of those haughty looks that now turned Puck on. Hardcore.

"Noah," he said, coolly raising an eyebrow, "you need far more help than any mere mortal can provide, even one as fabulous as myself." He then closed his eyes and continued to suck on that fucking popsicle.

He knows my name! was the first wretched thought to pop into Puck's head. He cleared his throat.

"Whatever, man. Listen, I'm having some trouble with the arrangement for my song this week, and I could really use your input."

Hummel's eyes opened and then narrowed. "And why should I help you?" he demanded.

"Because I don't want to suck and embarrass myself in front of everyone, okay?" Puck barked.

Hummel released the popsicle and pursed his lips.

Aw, yeah. Those fucking prissy lips.

"I need help too!" Finn cheerfully interjected.

"Yeah, with biology," Puck muttered.

"Huh?"

"Nothing. Look, Hudson, I got here first. You can get his help some other time."

Finn frowned and cocked his head. "Why? Kurt's my friend. He's not yours."

Oh, but he was going to be.

"Boys, boys!" Rachel chided. "There's enough of Kurt to go around." She turned gleaming eyes on Hummel, who shuddered. "Right, Kurt? Actually, I was hoping you could help me, too," she giggled, tracing circles on the table with her finger. "There's this one note I'm having trouble with."

"You?" spat an appalled Kurt. "You're asking for my help with Glee?" He snorted indelicately, but then cocked his head and thought better of her request. "Okay," he said slowly, nodding, "but only if you let me choose your wardrobe for the next week." His eyes roved over her current ensemble with disdain. "My retinas can only stand so much."

She beamed. "Done and done!"

Bitch! Puck silently howled. She was out of her fucking tree if she thought Hummel's sweet little tongue was going anywhere near her honeypot.

Hummel sighed and pulled out his sparkly phone and made huffing noises as he scrolled through his calendar. "Fine," he finally said. "Rachel, I can fit you in tonight at around seven. Noah, tomorrow at eight. And Finn, Wednesday at five."

All three nodded, Puck smiling devilishly. After Berry was shot down in what he was sure would be a truly epic way, he'd make sure Hummel would forget all about Hudson before Finn even had a chance. Win.

"Of course," Kurt continued, "Quinn will be there, too, but I'm sure I can find her something to do while I work with you."

"Don't worry about me," she cooed. "I'll be very busy."

Running the camcorder, she silently added.

Oh, Kurt was so good. He'd distract the boys while making sure she got some quality time with Rachel. The wannabe diva was in for a spring awakening of an altogether different sort.

"Well," sighed an exasperated Kurt, standing up and grabbing his tray, "I have to go. The exfoliation process should never be rushed." He paused long enough to suck what remained of the popsicle right off its stick. "See you all later in rehearsal."

He nodded at them and then sauntered away.

"Damn," Mercedes whispered under her breath. Her boy was a player, for sure. Work, bitch!

Kurt dumped his trash and swished right out of the cafeteria, confident that all eyes were on his tight little ass. As he rounded the corner, he exchanged a high five with Santana.

Best plan ever.