[It's just that it happens. It's happened more than once, and if he doesn't fucking deal with this shit now, he's going to go out again, and it's going to happen again. Yeah, it's easy to not give a fuck, but it's also easy for Noah to point at Sam and say, Look at you. This is why I want you home with me. He can't do that if Sam's body is whole, if he isn't bruised or cut or broken.] You'd be fucking fine if I came home like that? [One eyebrow raises in skepticism he makes no attempt to hide.]
I'd wanna watch you with Q, too. Or you be in me when I'm fucking Q. Or - dude, it wouldn't just be for me, okay? [He mutters, not wanting to hear it.] Why the fuck can't we act like we're hooking up for the first time with her when we get, like, fucking drunk? And shit just happens? I do stupid shit when I'm drunk. She knows that. Fuck, you know that. [Exhibit A: Their first night together. Not that's it's a stupid thing, really, but it's a step he never would have taken sober. And, regardless? He really doesn't want to lose the safety of Quinn being his girlfriend. It's so easy with her. They do shit together, she's there, the paparazzi assumes they're this cute as fuck couple now that he's not banging groupies, and life is good. Nobody assumes he's fucking his best friend.]
[Even as he wraps Sam's ribs, Puck's mouth finds Sam's; he kisses him softly, gently, careful to not kiss over the scratches and cuts on his face and mouth, but intentionally distracting him from the movement of his hands. It likely doesn't help much, but he's doing his best.] I know. [He murmurs softly.] S'okay. I'll get the shit I have. You need anything else? I'll take care of you.
[Okay. Of course Sam wouldn't be fine if Puck came home like this. It isn't even a question.] That's different. And also not fair. Shut up, I'm hurt.
[He blows out a sigh, trying to string together some thoughts that won't make him sound like he's a cranky five years old.] We can act like it, sure. I'll do it, it's fine, it's not like I haven't macked on Quinn before. It's just... are you sure things'll stay cool afterwards, though? Quinn's not gonna think anything's different about us? [As much as he wishes Puck and Quinn weren't still a thing, he knows they need her. He's not about to jump into anything that might fuck things up for all three of them, no matter how appealing the idea maybe sounds (mostly to his dick).]
[Puck kisses him as he wraps his ribs, which is an okay distraction, but it doesn't stop the hisses of pain from escaping his mouth. He presses his fingertips into the muscles of Puck's arm, his body taut and aching until it's over and he's able to relax. He shakes his head, panting softly.] Just the peas. Just want you to... keep me company.
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omg I am so sorry
I'd wanna watch you with Q, too. Or you be in me when I'm fucking Q. Or - dude, it wouldn't just be for me, okay? [He mutters, not wanting to hear it.] Why the fuck can't we act like we're hooking up for the first time with her when we get, like, fucking drunk? And shit just happens? I do stupid shit when I'm drunk. She knows that. Fuck, you know that. [Exhibit A: Their first night together. Not that's it's a stupid thing, really, but it's a step he never would have taken sober. And, regardless? He really doesn't want to lose the safety of Quinn being his girlfriend. It's so easy with her. They do shit together, she's there, the paparazzi assumes they're this cute as fuck couple now that he's not banging groupies, and life is good. Nobody assumes he's fucking his best friend.]
[Even as he wraps Sam's ribs, Puck's mouth finds Sam's; he kisses him softly, gently, careful to not kiss over the scratches and cuts on his face and mouth, but intentionally distracting him from the movement of his hands. It likely doesn't help much, but he's doing his best.] I know. [He murmurs softly.] S'okay. I'll get the shit I have. You need anything else? I'll take care of you.
lol it's okay!
[He blows out a sigh, trying to string together some thoughts that won't make him sound like he's a cranky five years old.] We can act like it, sure. I'll do it, it's fine, it's not like I haven't macked on Quinn before. It's just... are you sure things'll stay cool afterwards, though? Quinn's not gonna think anything's different about us? [As much as he wishes Puck and Quinn weren't still a thing, he knows they need her. He's not about to jump into anything that might fuck things up for all three of them, no matter how appealing the idea maybe sounds (mostly to his dick).]
[Puck kisses him as he wraps his ribs, which is an okay distraction, but it doesn't stop the hisses of pain from escaping his mouth. He presses his fingertips into the muscles of Puck's arm, his body taut and aching until it's over and he's able to relax. He shakes his head, panting softly.] Just the peas. Just want you to... keep me company.