A/N: Hello everyone! Here is the sequel to my one-shot. I shall be done with this little 'verse after this one, but I am by no means abandoning Glee. I've got an 8K Finn/Puck tragedy piece that I will start posting in a minute here and I'm working on a few ideas for crossovers and a sequel to my longer piece "Texts and Insanity." I hope you like this one, so please read and remember to review at the end and let me know what you thought!

The Wrong Number

Part 2

The next morning my phone rang and the caller ID said, "x," which I really needed to change before I forgot again whose number this was. "What's up, Hummel?" I asked, halfway through my Count Chocula.

"I will be in the school parking lot in exactly fifteen minutes, Puckerman. I expect you to be there."

"Seriously, dude?" I cried, chugging down my OJ, which didn't really mix well with the cereal, but what the hell, I was a jock. I needed the calories. "I'd have to leave right now!"

"Then get your ass in gear," Kurt said, his stupid girly voice all commanding and not at all sexy. "Because I wait for no one, Puck, and if I get tossed in the dumpster today, absolutely everyone will know what you did by the end of eighth period."

"Okay, okay!" I complained, vaulting up the stairs to my room and tossing things haphazardly into my backpack. "Shit. I'll be there!"

"See you then!" Kurt said happily, like he wasn't blackmailing me within an inch of my life. Damn him.

After getting away with a few moving violations, I made it to school just as Kurt was getting out of his car. Man, that kid had a nice ride, all pimped out and shit. Maybe he'd let me drive it sometime. As I jogged over to walk him into the school, what had happened the night before flashed through my head again. That voice didn't belong on a guy, but I guess if it had to belong to one, it was a good thing it was Kurt. He was the only dude girly enough to pull it off.

"Thank you for joining me, Puck," Kurt said, motioning for me to follow him with a quick glance at my appearance. "Try to get going earlier. I can't have you looking like that every day."

"What?" I asked, looking down at my shirt and jeans. Crap. I'd managed to do the buttons wrong while scrambling out of the house. "Just because I'm your bodyguard, Hummel, doesn't mean you tell me what to wear."

Kurt just shook his head and took off again, striding right past the group of guys waiting by the dumpsters. To my surprise, he actually flipped them all off as he passed, without ever looking at them. Some of the dudes looked so pissed that I couldn't help but smirk and follow Kurt's lead, copying his vulgar gesture. Cries of outrage came from that direction, but no one came after us, probably because they knew not to mess with Puckzilla.

Once we got further away, I asked Kurt, "How long have you been waiting to do that?"

"Since the second day of freshman year," he replied, entering the building and heading for the hallway that held the Juniors' lockers. After exchanging his books and fixing his hair, the boy turned back to me and declared (declared! Can you believe that shit?), "I have math first period. You?"

I was about to reply when I noticed a slushie making its way down the hallway, clutched in a meaty hand. I couldn't tell whether or not he was headed for Kurt, but I didn't want to take the chance, so I stepped around the fairy in question and walked away from him all cool-like, toward the slushie-wielder. When I got to him, I plucked the drink right out of the dude's hand and said, "Thanks!" before taking a sip and glaring at him, daring him to call bullshit. Which he didn't.

And hey, free slushie! Making my way back to Kurt, I tilted the cup in his direction, raising one eyebrow in question, "Want some?"

After giving me this confused, wary look that I swear lasted for eons, he shook his head. "Since starting at this school, I fear the simple pleasures of drinking a slushie have been lost to me. Now, come along."

"Dude," I complained, following the stupid gay who had me by the short and - you know what? Let's not go there - following Kurt, I said, "I'm not, like, your indentured servant or something. I agreed to watch your back, not be your bitch. Quit ordering me around."

After thinking it over for a moment as we walked who the fuck knows where, his lips all pursed up, Kurt sighed, "Fine. I'll try to treat you like a human being, especially if you can continue to prevent slushie facials. It's the least I can do, what with the blackmail..."

"Cool," I nodded, parting ways with the dude when he strutted into one of the classrooms in the new science wing. Was this where I was supposed to have class? Usually I followed Finn, even while we weren't talking, because why remember the classroom number when I could just follow Finn with one eye and cruise the hallway with the other?

Friday came too soon. I'd kept Kurt relatively unharmed for the past few days, bit now it was time for our stupid "date." I picked Kurt up from his house in my mom's car, asking him, "Can I just kiss you and get this over with?"

"No," he said, his stupid fairy-pixie nose high in the air. "You're buying me dinner."

"But," I complained, putting the car into gear and pulling away from the curb, "what if someone sees us together? I can't believe what a punk you're being about this, Kurt."

"Do you always insult your dates, Noah?" he asked with a stupid-ass smug smile on his face. "If so, it's a wonder you ever get anyone to go out with you."

"No," I insisted, sulking as I drove out of town. Of we were going to be seen together, it might as well be somewhere no one knew us. "Usually I'm not forced into dates, though."

"Usually I'm not led on and then disappointed by the straightest guy in school because he can't be bothered to store phone numbers correctly. This date and keeping me from being bullied, and we're even."

"Fine."

We sat in silence for a few minutes, barreling down the interstate toward Dayton. I wasn't gonna drive the whole hour and a half there, but I knew of an Olive Garden four exits down. No one we knew would be there and no way my ... date ... could complain about not manning up and keeping my end of the deal.

"Where are we going?" Kurt asked, reaching to fiddle with the radio and turning it from the rock station I usually listened to over to some pop garbage.

"You'll see when we get there."

"Really, Noah?" Kurt asked me as the hostess left.

Looking up to see a frown of disapproval on his stupid almost-girly face, I asked, "What?"

"You were staring at that woman's butt!" he accused, flipping open his menu angrily.

"Yeah, well," I snarled, sitting back in my chair and watching Kurt as he read the menu. "You're getting the Noah Puckerman experience here. Wandering eye and all."

"Joy of joys," Kurt smirked ruefully. After a moment, Kurt groaned low in his girly voice - which did not remind me of our phone conversation - and said. "Here comes our waitress. Try not to drool."

I turned in my seat to see what was the big deal, and one of the waitresses was approaching our table, her huge tits and low cleavage leading the way. When I finally looked up at her face, meeting her eyes, I flashed my patented Puckasaurus smirk. What can I say? She was hot. You'd think with a rack like that, she'd be a complete butter-face or something, but she wasn't. She had this smile that made me all ... warm and happy.

"Hello there," the waitress said. "My name is Janine and I'll be taking care of you boys today. Can I get a few drinks going while you look over the menu?"

I opened my mouth to hit on her, but Kurt jumped in with his stupid less-girly-in-real-life voice and said, "Hello, Janine. My name is Kurt and I'll have a Shirley Temple." When I flashed a 'Really, dude?' look his way, the fairy smiled right at me and said, "What would you like, Noah, darling, my one and only love?"

I kicked him under the table for that one, mumbling, "Coke," and burying my face in my menu, trying not to see the startled expression on Janine's face. "What the fuck did you do that for?" I snarled over at Hummel when she left.

Bending down and rubbing his shin with a grimace, Kurt replied, "You're supposed to be here with me, Puck. I don't care that you'll never have feelings for me besides hatred, but you could at least treat me like a human being, who has feelings of his own."

"You mean you aren't a space alien sent down from above to try to convert us dudes one at a time?" I muttered, earning a returning kick. Geez! I had to remember that this was the dude who kicked all of our field goals last year. That fucking hurt. "You could have fooled me."

"You know," he smirked, eyes on his menu, "suddenly I understand why you've dated so many girls."

"Because I'm awesome?" I grinned, trying to decide between two meals. Big hunk of meat, or carbo-load? I this date was with a chick, I'd go with the carbs, for that extra burst of energy. But since it was Kurt sitting across from me...

"Because once anyone sees past the flashy package," he sneered, waving his hand around to show he meant my awesome body, "and sees the real you? They're ready to move on to someone less ... sociopathic. Which means you have to find someone new to con into dating you."

"Dude!" I cried, wondering how long before Kurt would drive me into doing something I would really regret – like stabbing him with my fork. "What does that even mean? Sociopathic?"

"It means you have no empathy and couldn't give a crap what anyone else is feeling," Kurt said, setting down his menu and crossing his arms over it.

"I have empathy!" I insisted, setting my menu down too. "I just don't show it like some weepy chick."

"And that's what makes you an ass," he nodded, eyebrows raising as he looked over my shoulder, smiling at Janine as she brought our drinks and took our orders.

After she left, I could finally tell Kurt, "Yeah, a bad-ass!"

"I know being a consummate jerk is some sort of survival strategy," he sneered, looking down his nose at me, "but all it really does is get you into trouble and drive people away."

"Are you done yet?" I asked, really trying to remember that it was always illegal to stab someone, even if they were being a superior, insulting asshole. "Is it my turn?"

"For what?" Kurt asked, folding one hand under his chin and using the other to play with the water on the side of his bright-pink drink.

"For this conversation to turn the other way around. You think you're so much better than the rest of us," I hissed, "but you're not. You're just a girly dude with delusions of grandeur."

"Do you even know what that means?"

"It means you think you're the shit because you're all misunderstood or whatever, but we get it," I told him, wondering how long it would take for that angry blush to really turn into something entertaining when he snapped. "You like dudes. Whatever. The jocks pick on you because you're little, you don't fight back, you get good grades, you spend way too much time on your clothes and your hair, and you can't help but remind us of all these things all the time. You're, like, the dude version of Rachel Berry, and look how many friends she has."

"Fine," Kurt huffed. "I'm not perfect. Can we talk about something else?"

Snorting before I took a sip of my Coke, I asked, "Like what? What the hell do we have in common?"

"Glee?" he suggested, still looking down at his hands, his cheeks bright red. Damn. I'd gone and told him just as much bad stuff about him as he'd said about me. This was only gonna get worse...

"Which will take five minutes to talk about. What else, dude? Movies?" he shook his head. "TV? Video games? Oh, football?"

"You do know that I'm not on the team this year, right? I'm a Cheerio."

"Then you should know the basics of the game, anyway, so you'll know when to cheer."

"Mmm," he hummed in agreement as he took a sip of his drink. "I suppose you're right. Even though I'm only on the team because it gives me a place to showcase my talents and because it makes me more popular, not because I care about boosting your morale."

"Gee, thanks," I scoffed, telling myself yet again what a bad idea this had been. But it had been Kurt's idea, and I had to go along with it. No choice. Stuck between a rock and a gay dude. Fuck. My. Life.

After some pretty good food and a lot of awkward silence around a few conversations about glee club, it was finally time for us to go. "C'mon, Hummel," I said as I set down the last of my hard-earned cash to pay for stupid Kurt's stupid date, and stood up. "Let's go."

"Fine," he frowned as we left the table and then the restaurant. "You know, if this isn't the worst date I'll ever go on, I'll never wear designer clothing again."

Suddenly feeling the overwhelming urge to laugh, I pointed out, "I should turn this thing around, just so you start wearing normal clothes again, shouldn't I?"

"Please don't," he insisted, with his own awkward laugh, climbing into the passenger seat of my mom's car and using his elbow on the door's armrest to prop up his head.

Fine. If Kurt wanted to just get this night over with, then I did too. Nothing more to talk about. Just a twenty minute drive and we could be done with this whole thing. Except for the fact that I still had to be his bodyguard for the rest of the year. That was going to suck.

Unless I could find some way to get out of it. I mean, it's not like he had a recording of me or anything, was it? All he had was his word against mine that something had happened. If I got a jump on things, maybe told that Jew-fro kid how Kurt had been obsessed with me lately, no one would believe him. So then, just a kiss to keep Kurt from blabbing over the weekend, and I was golden. Hell, yeah!

I parked Mom's car next to the curb in front of Kurt's house, turning off the engine and sighing, "Alright. Let's get this over with."

"Oh…" Kurt nodded. "Okay." He unbuckled his seatbelt and leaned over toward me, eyes wide like he was afraid of what I might do.

I really didn't want to kiss the dude, but I knew if I didn't, he'd tell everyone about the mistake I'd made before I had the chance to run some damage control. Kissing one guy for a few seconds had to be better than getting ripped on every day in school from then until graduation. Right?

And if Kurt was looking for the full Noah Puckerman experience, I wasn't gonna half-ass the kiss. Good enough and there was no way he was going to go back on his word. But half-ass it, and the dude might make me kiss him again and again. So, yeah. Full steam ahead.

I doubted Kurt had ever been kissed before, so I grabbed the back of his neck to make sure he didn't do something stupid, like head butt me on accident or knock our noses together. He tensed up when I grabbed him, but I didn't give him time to freak out, pressing my lips against his all of a sudden. Kurt squeaked a little and his lips were all tight and difficult to kiss, but after a few seconds he relaxed. I pulled on his bottom lip and licked it, not because I wanted to – hello, he was a dude and it was totally different from kissing a girl and not at all exciting or anything – but because I knew it would shut him up.

When he moaned low in his throat and his tongue found mine, I decided that was enough. Pulling away and letting Kurt go, I wiped off my mouth and cleared my throat, carefully not looking at the guy. "Are we done now?"

"Yeah," Kurt nodded, his eyes wide again and his hand floating up to touch his lip. See? No one questions my badassness and gets away with it. The dude patted his coat pockets like he was making sure he had everything and then he left the car, stumbling away toward his front door. No way Kurt broke our deal over the weekend after that kiss.

On Monday, I put my plan into action. When Ben Israel went into the bathroom between classes, I followed him in there with my phone up to my ear, saying, "Yeah, dude. It's damn creepy! Hummel's been staring at me lately. I swear he's got the hots for me or something. I shouldn't have been so nice to him. This wouldn't have happened if I was still throwing him in the trash daily." I paused here like I was listening to someone on the other end, but no one was there. "I already told him I'm straight and he's got no hope … Yeah, dude. He looked like he was gonna kill himself or something … Yeah, that works. Just ignore him until he goes away. I can do that."

Then, I hung up and took a piss, ignoring the way the Jew-fro was staring at me. Everything was going to plan.

"Puck!" Kurt called down the hallway, trying to get my attention, but I just ignored him, making him run after me. He sounded pissed. "Puck!"

"What d'you want, Hummel?" I asked, not even looking at him as I walked toward class.

"I want to know why you went back on our deal," he practically shrieked. "I got a slushie facial first thing this morning, and you were nowhere to be seen. I am this close to causing your total and everlasting humiliation at this school."

"Sorry, dude," I said, walking into class and sitting down in the back. "I can't be everywhere at once, you know. I had things to do."

Frowning at me, his eyes all narrow and angry, Kurt snarled, "One more incident and you're done in this school, Puck. Done!"

"Whatever."

Is Love or Something More Sinister In the Air?

Posted: 12:07pm November 16th, 2010
By: Jacob Ben Israel

As everyone knows, high school has always been a setting for wayward romance and unrequited love. This journalist has tasted the bitter tang of loving someone from afar several times in the past. But, you may ask, how is this news?

It has come to our attention that resident homosexual Junior Kurt Hummel has been harboring an insane, unrequited love for Junior Cassanova Noah Puckerman. According to our sources, Mr. Hummel has been stalking Mr. Puckerman and tried to convince us that Mr. Puckerman came onto him first. This reporter suggests the members of this school lay off bullying Mr. Hummel, as he has obviously suffered a nervous breakdown. He even tried to convince us that he and Mr. Puckerman shared a kiss on Friday evening. When we asked Mr. Hummel for tangible proof that his claims actually happened, he was unable to provide such proof.

Take heed, students of WMHS. It never pays to fall in love with someone who can't love you in return. Protect your hearts, or risk ending up like Mr. Hummel – delusional and alone.

"What the hell, Puck?" Kurt yelled before Glee rehearsal began that afternoon, shoving his phone in my face. "What did you do to Jacob to get him to write this? Threaten him? Pay him off?"

Shrugging, I said, "I have no idea what you're talking about, Kurt. And seriously, you should get some help, dude. Leave me alone. I'm not into you like that."

"I … what? We had a deal, Puckerman!" he fumed, stalking away from me to go stand next to Mercedes, both of them frowning at me angrily.

"Hey, dude," Finn approached me, holding up a sheet of paper. "Did you read this?"

I took the paper from Finn's hand and read Ben Israel's blog post, laughing by the time I got to the end. "Classic."

"Dude!" Finn cried. "Don't be so mean to Kurt! He's had it really rough. You have no idea!"

"Look, Finn," I insisted. "Something had to be done. You remember how creepy things got when Kurt was crushing on you. A little public humiliation and Kurt will back off."

"I can't believe … I mean, he's never said anything about liking you. Are you sure this isn't just something you cooked up to put him down, like throwing him in the dumpster? Because I thought being in Glee, and dealing with the whole Quinn pregnancy thing taught you better, dude. He's, like, really getting a lot of shit about this. From everyone."

Damn. Now I felt bad about it. I mean, I just wanted to get back at Kurt for treating me like a slave and calling me a sociopath. I didn't want to make him actually want to kill himself. Dude, if something like that was on my conscience, I'd probably never get over it. Like my mom when my dad left her. Or when Batman's parents got killed right in front of him.

Slamming Ben Israel against the lockers in one of the more deserted wings of the school after glee (and the newspaper) let out, I told him, "You're going to retract that story you posted today, geek, or you're going to have a fro that smells like toilet-water for a month."

"So it's true?" he asked, behind those stupid glasses of his, giving me a scavenging little smile. "Kurt's in love with you?"

"He's not," I growled. "I made all that stuff up because he and I got into an argument. I wasn't even talking to anyone yesterday in the bathroom. I made it all up."

"So why did he come to me, telling me you and he were involved in some sort of sordid sexual congress? Just another escalation of this argument you had?"

"Yes!" I cried. "He made that all up, too."

His eyes searched my face, snapping back and forth as his smile grew. "He didn't make it up, did he? Oh, god, this is even better!"

"If you publish, print, or post anything but a simple retraction, Jacob, I will seriously break all your fingers and punch you in the nuts. Got it?"

"G-got it," he nodded nervously. "It's gone. You and your lover are safe."

Just for that, I grabbed him by the fro and pushed his head down before leaving him staggering in the hallway.

We Were Wrong

Posted: 4:58 pm November 16th, 2010
By: Jacob Ben Israel

It has come to our attention that the article we posted earlier today, entitled, "Is Love or Something More Sinister in the Air?" contained several factual errors. Pending further investigation, we are retracting the entire article. Please disregard what you may have learned from that article about the individuals named, as we can no longer verify any of those claims. We personally apologize for any hardship or misunderstanding caused by the article, so please don't beat us up. Okay, Mr. Puckerman?

The next morning, Kurt sent me a text that said, "Thank you. Now we're even."

When I saw him in class, he nodded at me, but wisely kept his distance. Later, I intercepted another slushie headed Kurt's way, and handed it to him instead. "We're even," I agreed. "I'll stop something if I see it, because you're okay, dude. But I'm not following you around anymore. Got it?"

"Got it," he nodded. "Thanks, Puck."

"Don't mention it," I said. "Seriously. Don't."

Kurt laughed as I walked away, and I smiled. It felt good, putting everything with Kurt to rest. My phone rang then, and I didn't check it before answering, "Go for Puck."

"Hey, baby," the voice said on the other end, and I didn't really recognize the girl, so I looked down at the caller ID, laughing when it said, "Kurt Hummel."

"Oh, no," I replied. "I know who this is now, dude. I'm not making that mistake again."

"Good," he replied and hung up, waving at me from the other end of the hallway before disappearing.

Yeah, he was alright, when he wasn't being all bitchy and insulting. I guess it was the same as how I'm an alright dude when I'm not throwing dweebs into dumpsters. Doesn't mean I'm ever kissing Kurt again, despite how much he obviously enjoyed it. I'm the Puckasaurus. I've got a reputation to maintain.

Thoughts? Comments? Critiques? Please review!