Sam is fucking drunk, and his night went from good to bad to worse because now he has to figure out how in the fuck he's going to get Sam home without Quinn wanting to rip off his balls and bury them in the backyard.
Shit wasn't this complicated in high school when he was doing, like, five people at the same time.
"Not here," he growls in Sam's ear, the bartender grimacing as he watches, slapping a napkin and an ice cube on the bar in front of them before coming out from behind the bar with a broom and dustpan. Puck takes the ice cube and wraps it in the napkin, pressing it against Sam's finger and squeezing tight. "Get your ass up, we're going home." He squats, wrapping an arm around Sam's ribs and hauling him up to stand with a grunt. "I'm getting your ass to the car and then coming back for our shit and you're gonna stay there. Motherfucker. The fuck am I, everybody's mother?"
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Date: 2011-08-13 02:35 am (UTC)Shit wasn't this complicated in high school when he was doing, like, five people at the same time.
"Not here," he growls in Sam's ear, the bartender grimacing as he watches, slapping a napkin and an ice cube on the bar in front of them before coming out from behind the bar with a broom and dustpan. Puck takes the ice cube and wraps it in the napkin, pressing it against Sam's finger and squeezing tight. "Get your ass up, we're going home." He squats, wrapping an arm around Sam's ribs and hauling him up to stand with a grunt. "I'm getting your ass to the car and then coming back for our shit and you're gonna stay there. Motherfucker. The fuck am I, everybody's mother?"