Author's Notes: Written for the darkship prompt meme, the prompt: "drink up, baby." PUCK DOES NOT APPROVE OF MY DEFAMATION OF HIS CHARACTER; I'M SORRY BABY.
There's nothing wrong with this.
It's not gay. Okay, yeah, he's making out with his best friend, who happens to be a dude, but that's not gay – they're guys; they get horny and they get drunk. It's not like they're fucking or anything.
And yeah, maybe Finn's a bit more wasted than Puck is. More due to Puck telling him not to be a pussy than anything. But whatever; it's not a huge difference (except Finn's drunk like, three times the bottles Puck has), and Finn's not passed out or anything (yet). So it's cool.
"Puck," Finn murmurs, helplessly slurred against his mouth. Puck sighs in annoyance and pulls back.
"What is it?" he asks, observing Finn's drunk-face – boy can barely keep his eyes open. Never could hold his liquor.
"Is this... Ith thith..." Finn can't fucking talk. Puck rolls his eyes.
"Dude, I have no idea what you're on about. Can we get back to the making out now?"
"Is thith a good iiidea?" Finn eventually says, still sounding wasted as fuck. "I mean... this ith kinda... gay."
Puck rolls his eyes, and leans down to kiss along Finn's neck reassuringly. "Don't worry about it," he murmurs. "This ain't gay bro, believe me. Unless..." he comes back up to glare at Finn suspiciously. "Do you like it or something?"
"What? No!" says Finn.
"Just checking," Puck shrugs it off, before returning to the kisses. He eventually finds Finn's mouth, but the guy barely kisses him back. Finn's arms lie flat on the carpet.
"Dude," says Puck, "You can like, touch me." Finn barely seems to hear him – he's got that drunk look that means he gets things even less than usual. So with a put-upon sigh, Puck drags Finn's hands up to rest near his ass.
Finn looks surprised. Puck rolls his eyes. "Dude. It's okay," he says. "Seriously. No wonder Quinn won't let you past first base, if you suck this much at that."
Finn suddenly looks mad. Shit, thinks Puck. He knows what a girl Finn can be, especially when he's wasted; he shouldn't say shit that's gonna piss him off. "Fuck you," little bits of Finn's spit land on Puck's face. "I – I shouldn't–" he shoves Puck to the side and tries to sit up; however, he's so drunk he just falls back down with a "Whoa." Puck laughs at him.
"Dude," Puck bunches up against Finn's side – it's not cuddling or some shit, just the best way to making out more. "That would so happen to you."
"Shut up," Finn says, eyes closed again. He's suddenly looking a lot more smashed, but Puck ignores it. "I should go. I shouldn't do this."
Puck rolls his eyes. "Dude. Chill out. This is cool; we're just making out."
"I have a girlfffend," Finn's still drunk enough he slurs. Puck scoffs.
"She'll never know," Puck points out. Finn doesn't seem able to come up for an argument for that – Puck sees him struggling, and takes advantage of the distraction to get back on top of him.
"Come on. Relax. Live a bit, bro." He brings his mouth down on Finn's again, kissing eagerly. Finn doesn't have much of a response, but the slightest movement of his lips tell Puck it's cool – he does kind of feel like he's making out with a doll, giving how little Finn's responding, but whatever, he can deal.
"Puck," says Finn. Puck groans and pulls away again.
"What is it now?" he whines. "Seriously, if you turn into a chick someday I'm not dating you. You'd never put out."
Finn ignores him. "I think – I think–" his face is pale and sick-looking, and Puck immediately realizes and rolls off him.
"Shit! You're gonna puke?" Finn nods, and Puck looks around before finding the trashcan and dragging it over to Finn. "There," he holds a hand under Finn's back to get him to sit up.
"Thanks," Finn mumbles until he lets go and spews into the can, Puck's hand still holding him up. Puck winces at the sound.
"You need me to hold your hair back, Finnessa?" Puck teases.
"Fuck off," is Finn's incredibly eloquent reply before he pukes again. After a few more goes at this, Finn collapses back onto the floor, eyes hazy with booze.
"You done?" Puck asks, automatically staring at the mess in his trashcan. Gross, he thinks. He'll have to clean this up at some point, before his mom kills him. Finn doesn't answer, but it's not a big deal. Puck abandons the trashcan for a second, instead giving Finn a hand up. Finn's barely on his feet for a second before he collapses against Puck's shoulder.
"Come on, man," says Puck as he and Finn start to stumble their way toward the bathroom. Eventually, Finn finds another source of support as he winds up pressed against the sink. Puck smirks, and takes advantage of the new position to slowly lick along Finn's neck.
"Puck, please, cut it out," Finn moans, hands shaking on the sink. Puck rolls his eyes.
"Pussy. You know you want me," Puck says, but he backs off for now, handing Finn his toothbrush. For a second, Finn just stares at it. Puck has to roll his eyes again.
"Here," he grabs the toothpaste and squeezes it onto the brush for Finn. "Now, if you're wasted enough to forget how to brush, I will punch you."
Finn scowls at him, and goes about defying that. He winds up with toothpaste all over his face and almost stabs himself in the eye once or twice, but whatever, it works out. Puck has to dab his face dry with a towel for him; Finn is about two fucking years old sometimes, really.
"C'mon. Let's get baby boy to bed," Puck starts to drag him back, and Finn looks as pissed at that as he can when he's practically falling asleep on Puck's shoulder. Puck barely manages to get the covers back with one arm, but it works out – he tosses Finn down and sets to work on removing his clothes.
"Whatareyoudoing?" asks Finn. Puck rolls his eyes.
"Relax, Hudson. Just trying to get your clothes off so can like, sleep," he pulls down the zip on Finn's jeans, before tugging them off awkwardly and throwing them wherever (although he makes sure to avoid the pukecan, 'cause he doesn't actually hate his bro). Finn's eyes are closed, which Puck takes as a good sign... though he's not really sure of what. He sighs and pulls off the shirt as well.
Suddenly, Finn's left there in Puck's bed wearing nothing but his boxers – and yeah, it makes Puck's dick jump a bit. Not that it's gay or anything. It's just sort of left over make-out hormones making him sensitive to this kind of crap... and the make-out hormones would show up no matter who he was making out with. It's not a big deal.
Puck stares at him for a moment, then thinks to hell with it. He rolls back on top of Finn and starts kissing him again.
"Puck?" asks Finn. Puck realizes his eyes are open again, and pulls back.
"Finn. It's okay. I'm just getting my goodnight kiss; you're enough of a girl for it," he aims his mouth at Finn's jaw, and tries not to feel the muscles there working as Finn frowns.
"Puck, I wanna sleep," says Finn. Puck rolls his eyes.
"Whatever. It's cool. Come on baby; just a bit more and I'll let you sleep," his hand is making it's way to the front of Finn's boxers – okay, maybe that's kinda gay, but whatever. Finn's being a total fucking prude about this, and Puck wants to convince him otherwise. He only gets that sort of making out without some kind of payoff from virgin chicks, and he gets they'd be nervous – Finn doesn't have an excuse. It's not like Puck's asking for much – a handjob at best. Why does Finn have to make a big deal?
Anyway, it doesn't work. Finn shoves him off. "Piss off, Puck," he says, before rolling on his side.
Puck glares at him. What a fucking cocktease. "Fine. I hope your hangover fucks you up bad," he says. Finn doesn't answer, and Puck thinks he's probably fallen asleep. Already? Really? Oh well. Finn was pretty fucking wasted, even if you wouldn't guess by how much he held out.
Something about all that makes Puck frown. Then he shakes it away. Dude, he's not like, raping Finn as he sleeps or anything – he just wanted a hook-up. He hasn't done anything wrong to Finn.