puck.

Puck nodded his head and quickly ran over to his truck. Fumbling for his keys, he unlocked the passenger side door and grabbed two water bottles. He had some Advil at his place, which would help Sam with the massive hangover he’d have the next day. Before going back over to his two friends, he locked his truck.

“A-alright, I got two water bottles,” he said, taking a moment to catch his breath once he had ran back over to Blaine and Sam. “One for pukey over there and one for you, Blaine. Have you even had any water tonight?” As irresponsible as Puck appeared to be, he could take care of others if he needed to. He handed one of the bottles to Blaine before opening the other one. “I guess I’ll risk getting thrown up on,” he said with a sigh as he walked closer to Sam. “Okay, bud, I need ya to work with me. I can’t do this by myself,” he told the blond teenager. Bringing the water bottle close to Sam’s lips, he silently cursed when Sam almost fell over. “Sam, open your damn mouth so you can drink some of this water and we can get you inside. I promise you’ll feel better in the morning.” Okay, so maybe Sam wasn’t going to be feeling better in the morning, but that was a lie he could live with. Once again, he brought the water bottle to Sam’s lips. A small grin appeared on his face when Sam slightly opened his mouth. The other teen had opened it just enough so that Puck could pour a little bit of water into his mouth. “Well, I guess I’ll be doing this for awhile,” he said, looking over at Blaine. “Sam definitely owes us. Big time.”

“Thanks. I owe you for this,” Blaine shook the water bottle and shrugged thinking back to whether he drank any water for the night or not.  “I think there’s water inside vodka isn’t there?  I mean..ice is water.  So that’s a pretty close second.”  Go figure on that rationale.  Both palms went up, long fingers pinching the water bottle to keep it from falling as Puck took charge of either drowning Sam or getting him to drink.  Blaine stepped back, staggering to a halt against a shrub/bush/whatever that shouldn’t have stopped him. Lucky him?  It did.  Like Blaine was dumb enough to argue that it should be him that takes Puck’s place on the whole standing in front of a potential volcano of gross?  No way in hell was he going to do that.  Nope.  Nope.  Not even close to being not-drunk enough to volunteer for that job.  Probably wouldn’t even if he was sober and someone else was going in for the chance but he wasn’t going to focus on that point.  If they were all a lot closer?  Maybe?  He’d helped Nick a time or two when one of the Warblers regretted their life choices.  But Sam?  He was a great guy.

They were all great guys.  Just–hey–they all knew each other much longer than he knew them. By all means–Puck was more than welcome to take this job on.  Should they all come to a party at Dalton and one of his friends was reaching scary levels of mumbling under his breath while turning ten different shades of pale green?  It’d be his turn.  Fair and square.  Once Sam was steady and well hydrated–Blaine carefully departed from his new shrub friend and hooked one arm around Sam’s waist again.  Just a shoulder into his side before he was steady. No big deal? The blonde laughed for reasons unknown.  “We should get him inside while he’s manageable. He sure does owe us,” he held up a finger correcting himself, “More you than me since you’re the risk taker who fed him water.  Shall we?”  Then used the same finger to point at the apartment complex.  Wiggle, wiggle.