Despite the bullshit, despite how fucking dramatic he knows shit with Quinn will end up being, despite how what was supposed to be a good night ended up fucking ruined - he wraps his arms around Sam, brushing the tip of his snub nose along Sam's cheekbone, dropping a slow kiss on his lips. "I love you," he mutters. "I was gonna get your ass in bed and then leave for Q's. S'why no truck. I'm staying, so just, like, sleep." Even as Sam turns to his own pillow, Puck wraps his arms around his slender waist [the muscles are hard beneath his fingertips, and he fucking loves the texture of Sam's skin, dappled with a light coating of fine blond hair that he kisses on his way down to his knees when he sucks him down] and hauls him closer. "Wanna hold you, bro. If I'm gonna sleep with you, s'least not going to be weird. We never sleep, you know, apart." Truthfully, they're always tangled in each other [always naked], arms and legs and everything wrapped together. "I know it sucks," he exhales, suddenly exhausted. "I hate it. Lying to her, knowing it hurts you. I'm too old for that shit."