( puck/sam verse: back in lima )

[lormenari]

Sam's mostly asleep, but awake enough to know he feels like shit. Puck's bed is firm and new, not broken in yet, and it feels too hard and way too empty. He'd piled up all their extra pillows to try to trick himself into believing he's not totally alone in their brand new (empty) house, in Puck's brand new (mostly empty) bed, but after sleeping curled up against Puck's warm body for the entire final leg of their tour, this is an unwelcome change. The house doesn't feel like home. And Sam doesn't feel like himself knowing Puck spent the entire night with Quinn. God, they probably fucked at least three times, and Quinn probably told Puck how much she loves him, and Puck held her all night and breathed against her neck and might have realized just how much he truly misses girls, with their dainty figures and silky hair and smooth skin, and fucking hell, Sam was so stupid to think he could ever compete with that. Like he could ever have Puck completely.

He buries his face further into his pillow, furrowing his brow miserably. Everything always comes back to Quinn. Groupies, he can handle. They're just temporary. But Quinn? She's permanent. It's different when Puck is with her. It means something. The way Puck looks at her isn't just an act to hide what's really going on. The way he kisses her, the excitement when he shamelessly touches her - it's real. When he fucks her, it's real. And it's the only thing he won't do with Sam. Because Sam's not a girl. Sam's not Quinn.

He hears a key turning in the front door, and he starts slightly, surprising himself. He thought he'd be ecstatic when Puck got home, but he just feels hurt. He pulls the sheets up to his shoulders and turns onto his side, his back to the door.

Comments

[lormenari.livejournal.com]

It doesn't matter how many time Puck says it. Every single time those three words pass his lips, it feels like the first time all over again. It feels - incredible, and unbelievable, like this can't possibly be happening. Sam pulls Puck from his shoulder, wanting to see his face. He puts a hand gently against Puck's cheek, his thumb resting just beneath his jaw, and their noses bump together softly as he closes his eyes and lets Puck's warm breath tickle his skin. "I love you, too," he whispers back, his lips touching Puck's. His breath wavers a little as he wonders if Puck said the same thing to Quinn last night or this morning before he left. He swallows, running a hand along the back of Puck's head, letting him settle in the curve of his neck again. His fingers brush over Puck's smooth back. Just forget it, Sam. He kisses the top of Puck's head and then reaches down to pull the sheets over their bodies. Puck must be tired from being with Quinn all night, and then having Sam fuck him open right now, so he settles down and lets him rest. Sam lets his mind stop; he doesn't think, and he tries not to feel anything but this moment of warm bodies pressed together. He kisses Puck again softly, curling his legs against Puck's, and tries to fall asleep.

[but_idontlie]

Puck blinks at Sam, gazing dazedly into his eyes; Sam strokes the side of his face, drawing them closer together. "I love you," he whispers again, their lips brushing with every word, every breath. It's more serious than the way things are with Quinn, more hidden; he curls into Sam, gently slinging his leg over Sam's thigh, one arm wrapped around his ribs as he nestles in the curve of Sam's arm. "Wanna be with you," he whispers with closed eyes, his breath hot against the other boy's neck. It's morning, and he's only just woken from his night with Quinn, but he wants to sleep for the rest of the day [curled up with Sam, just Sam].