“You haven’t kissed many guys? I’m surprised ‘cause you seemed…experienced,” Puck quickly admitted, clearing his throat and looking away for a moment. He’d been with a lot of girls and knew the difference between experienced and inexperienced chicks. He was glad that Blaine understood his situation. He was one of the most popular guys at McKinley. If anyone found out about his drunken make-out session with Blaine, his reputation would be ruined. There had been some rumors about Finn and him being a couple but ever since Finn had started dating Rachel, the rumors had died down. “Yeah, you guys aren’t that bad. Compared to Vocal Adrenaline, The Warblers are saints. I’ve never worried that you were trying to sabotage us. You just don’t seem like that kind of dude.”
Blaine gave Puck a puzzled look that was broken up by an embarrassed laugh. “Yeah–no. I haven’t. Thanks though,” the last two words lifted in pitch to the point where they nearly sounded like a question. He stopped himself from adding in some embarrassedly nervous joke like he must be a natural because it–technically–wasn’t only one of their first kisses with a guy. Who wants to admit that their first kiss might’ve just been by planting one on a straight guy while drunk? Absolutely nobody. That’s who. Definitely–not him. The entire situation was awkward enough. Why mix that into it? Some might say Blaine wasted it. Blaine couldn’t bring himself to feel about it that way. Regretting it down to his bones now or not? He wanted to kiss Puck. Even if the end result was a huge oopsie that sober Blaine was–no doubt–going to want to smack himself upside the head for. Back to the conversation! Blinking out of his haze–Blaine shrugged and snuggled deeper into his corner of the couch until he was a ball. Knees to his chest and arms around his shins. “Wouldn’t say we’re saints but in comparison to Vocal Adrenaline? Most people are. Thank you for not seeing me as a threat. You have no idea how huge of a relief that is.” –In more ways than one, I guess.–
( mssg » dave | sent ) Hi DAve!@ I knwo you’re probably dead asleep right nwo but i want to say taht I am really glad we started talking. I don’t knwo if y ou understand hwo much you have been helping me. Or how muich you mean to me because of that. I didn’t think I’d let anyone close again. too much hrut at stake. Can’t do that agian ( mssg » dave | sent )
here you are! Making me break my own Rule thank you. i mean it. thankS , ( mssg » dave | sent ) Ojh god. i sent tha t . my mistake pelase ignore me”
Send “✿” for a SUGGESTIVE text.
( mssg » dave | sent ) I don’t want you to tell me that we don’t have to. Or you’re worried you’re rushing me. You’re not. ( mssg » dave | sent ) I’m not going to come apart at the seams if you touch me, you know? ( mssg » dave | sent ) And I want you to. Come over. Please?
Santana’s full lips pulled into a wicked grin as he repeated the nickname. His attitude towards her insults was always so amusing. Sure, if he wanted to, Blaine could yell and argue and make her feel like a horrible person for the way she acted && the things she said. Yet for some reason, he didn’t. He never pushed her or called her out unless completely necessary. She could respect that. “Now that is hurtful! You really think I would put cheap garbage into my body? That’s so freshman year. This stuff costed well over twenty. I’m not made of money, but I have standards.”
What do you do when the first swallow tastes like the bottom of a shoe pulled from a volcano? You swallow another gulp with the sheer prayer that the next round burns the tastebuds out of your mouth and you don’t have to worry. That’s what Blaine did as Santana nearly made him shoot liquor out of his nose at her chiding him that he wasn’t drinking swill but second shelf price tagged liquor. Thanks to divine intervention–he was saved that possibly life scarring event. Fingers steepled against his chest and he pretended to be totally schooled as laughter pinched his eyes almost shut. “Twenty bucks a bottle? I’m so sorry I insulted your taste in,” his nose scrunched as his mouth reminded him of the flavor on a whim of it’s own, “alcohol, Santana. Of course, of course. Nothing but the best for–.” Time for a fish out of water breath or two and a cinch together of his teeth. “You now,” he picked right back up where he left off. “Wow. What is this?” His arm extended the bottle towards her so she could catch up to his two gulps.
SEND A 🍷 FOR MY MUSE TO SHOW UP DRUNK AT YOUR MUSE’S DOOR. @independentlyfinnhudson White knuckle grip on the doorframe? Check. Gushing apology prepared for Finn considering the time? Double–triple check. All he had to do was knock on the door but going through with it required a courage that the liquid form of it was seriously starting to run out. The longer he debated if he should have told the guy to drop him off down the block–apparently a ride home from the bar equalled getting a number shoved into his lap and more awkwardness than he could cope with for another fifteen minutes to his aunt’s house? Blaine was beginning to realize that this was more than a bad idea. It was a horrible one.
There wasn’t any promise that Finn would appreciate him being here. He wouldn’t blame him if he didn’t. One huge relief was Burt and Carol were gone. He knew by Rachel telling them to have a safe trip on Facebook and–like always–Burt’s message was half typed before he sent it on accident and forgot that editing was a thing. Kurt and he both tried to teach the man how to work social media before he left for D.C. the first time but it was sort of like–how did Kurt say it? ‘Teaching a caveman how to work fire in the pouring rain.’ The memory hitched his shoulders and caused his head to bow so far forward that his forehead plastered itself against the door.
Blaine swayed once, twice, clutched the doorframe harder to keep from falling completely over. and wouldn’t you know it? Laughed sadly in spite of the tears in his eyes. A lightly curled fist swung blindly to knock on the door and gravity won when one rap had him off balance and his butt bounced on the cement. To hell with it. He’d just stay there and Finn wasn’t home? Or told him to leave and shut the door? Maybe a nap in the cold would sober him up some. Plus? It’d serve him right. Yet one more night added to the string of poor life choices under his belt. Wonderful. Perfect.Utterly freaking abysmal.
[text]: You’re stuck there?!? [text]: God dammit. Wait outside. I’ll call a taxi or something to come get you. [text]: Keep talking to me so I don’t worry.
( mssg » kurt | sent ) well Not so muchas stcuk. More the rexst of the WArblers are still drinkign and the DD is probably doing someone that coudl get the guy he’s with arrested. so i’ll be here for a while. ( mssg » kurt | sent ) God my typing is horrible. ( mssg » kurt | sent ) I’m no t waiting outside and don’t call a cab i can do that if i need to. Got to keep an eye on the guys. seriously i’m fine. no reason to worry about me. i jsut missed you it’s not like i don’t do that a lot. ( mssg » kurt | sent ) It’s sweet htat you would though.
After making sure Sam and Blaine were buckled up, Puck climbed in the driver’s side of the truck and put on his seat belt. “That’s a good idea, Blaine, though maybe it’d be better if you two crashed at my place. If anything happened to the two of ya, I’d probably feel a teeny tiny bit of sadness.” He chuckled as he turned on the engine and pulled out of the parking space. “My mom won’t be home until like the afternoon tomorrow, so we’d have the place to ourselves. Besides, if Sam does throw up, you won’t be the only one who has to deal with the mess.”
“Thanks. You’re right. It’s closer anyway and if by chance my brother pulls one of his surprise visits? I’ll never live this,” he thumbed up at the swaying drunk between them, “down because he wasn’t invited.” Sam’s head found it’s place on top of Blaine’s with a soft sigh and a pat to his cheek from the blonde. “Love you Blaaaaaaine. You’re m’friend. You too Puck even with your mohawk and your–woah where am I— Dude that was like ANIMAL HOUSE! I’ma do a–nope,” Sam’s mumble was directly into his ear. Blaine swatted the air in front of his nose and mouthed, ‘Wow!’ Whatever was on Sam’s breath would take the paint off a car just by the smell. The shorter of three kept his head still because this was the breaks for being a headrest to a drunk, completely out of it best friend. As long as Sam didn’t start throwing up? He was fine with the arrangement. At the first sign of trouble? Whether or not Blaine was doing all of this with a very strong buzzing spin going on? Sam would find himself spending the rest of his ride to Puck’s house with his head hanging out the tiny back window Blaine blindly reached back behind them to slide open grateful that it took him all but two tries to figure it out. “I love you, too, Sam. Just don’t throw up on me and I’ll keep on loving you.”
pianokeysandbowties back up 