He can hear the tears in Sam's voice as he murmurs, burying his face in the pillow; they're probably half-alcohol and half-Sam, because his bro is definitely more of a vagina than he is.

And that's okay. Puck loves him regardless.

"S'okay, babe," he murmurs, his voice gentler now that they're lying together in bed and Sam's pillow is soaked with tears. "Turn around." He tugs without noticing the firm grip Sam maintains on his forearm, encouraging him to turn over with gentle caresses and brushed kisses, trails of his mouth over the shell of Sam's ear and the slightly-sweaty hairline at his temple. "I got you. Relax, s'okay." It's as close to comforting as he'll get, and he wriggles in the bed to hook one finger in the elastic of his own boxers and ease them off. He's not so much pissed anymore as he is tired and unable to hold a grudge, just wanting to curl naked in bed with the guy he loves.