A/N: Look, it's already chapter 3 and I haven't even incorporated any drunk people yet! (Except Puck, but he was only buzzed and do anything entertaining.) We'll have to fix that.

This chapter is mainly an excuse to bring up the drunk girl stereotypes introduced in BIOTA.

Also, sorry this update took so long! I've literally had four auditions in the past few weeks and I've been super busy.

Disclaimer: I don't own Glee, but if I did there would definitely be a spin-off starring Chris Colfer and Darren Criss in the near future.

Mercedes takes him to dinner with the rest of their group, minus Puck, Kurt, Blaine, and Rachel, even though it's five o'clock and he's pretty sure only old people eat that early. Lauren and Santana seem to still be a little tipsy from this afternoon, but have no qualms about ordering a glass of wine with dinner. He drinks water, due to the fake ID he "lost." He orders some Italian dish he can't pronounce, pointing stupidly and showing the waiter that he wants "that one." But he's having a nice time, because there's no chance of anything bad happening right now.

"Does eating Italian food teach you how to speak Italian?" Brittany asks. Santana shakes her head, covering Brittany's hand with her own.

"No, honey, not really," she says. Brittany looks disappointed.

"So, where's Puck?" Quinn asks, changing the subject. Sam's brow furrows and he grits his teeth in aggravation. Mercedes answers for him.

"He...made a new friend." This obviously does not come as a surprise to the rest of their party. Sam wonders when exactly he'll be getting his room back, because knowing Puck, he probably plans to keep the room occupied until the next morning. Finn pats his shoulder and gives him a sympathetic look.

The table falls into casual conversation about school, work, and most of all, relationships. Mike and Tina look uncomfortable when the topic of marriage comes up, which is weird, because they eloped immediately after graduation, and they always seemed happy. Artie shrugs his shoulders nonchalantly when Mercedes asks if he has a girlfriend, and Quinn glares daggers at Lauren when she asks Quinn how her fiance is.

"Fine, thank you very much," Quinn says, gritting her teeth and looking poised to wedge her fork in Lauren's neck.

"Yeah, how is Dawson?" Santana asks, stuffing another bread stick between her lips.

"Daniel, his name is Daniel!" Quinn snaps. She brings her straw to her lips to take a drink from her (empty) soda glass. "Dammit, I'm out of soda," she mutters fiercely.

"Honey, you need to get laid," Santana suggests. "Or at least drunk." The majority of the table nods in agreement.

"Yes, why have we not been out for drinks yet?" Artie asks, and Sam represses the urge to shout, "Because it's still before seven!"

"We should do something about that," Santana says, folding about a dozen bread sticks in a napkin and shoving the bundle in her purse. "Alright, everyone, mine and Britt's room in an hour. Artie will supply the booze!" Everyone seems pleased with this arrangement.

Everyone except Artie, that is.

"WOO! IT'S PARTY TIME!"

"DAMN STRAIGHT IT IS!"

"Could you not scream in my ear, Artie?"

"What the hell you talkin' 'bout, I can't even reach that high!"

According to Santana and Artie, it's party time. Damn straight party time. Quinn doesn't know how she feels about this, because she's only been drunk twice before. The first time she ended up with a baby. The second time left her with a really bad hangover. She's had the common sense to stop getting drunk after that.

Still, rum is pretty delicious. Why has she never had rum before? Why would the world deprive her of such a wonderful thing? Why has the world instead presented her with cheap wine coolers? Those are not rum. Rum is rum. And rum is good.

And now she's drunk.

Santana thinks- no, knows that this party would be so much better if Kurt and Blaine were here to get drunk and make out in front of everybody, so she sends Blaine a text. Something along the lines of, stop screwing ur bf and come drink w/ me!

He responds, Oh, if only that's what I'd been doing all day. :(

They show up about fifteen minutes later, looking decidedly pissed off and dragging a puffy-eyed, sniffling Rachel behind them.

Oh, those poor, cockblocked fools.

"I don't wanna be here. Finn is here, and I don't want anything to do with him!" she whines. Kurt's mouth is pressed into a thin line, and his shoulders have tensed. Blaine whips around to face her.

"Oh, my God, Rachel, enough!" He picks up a bottle of some sort of alcoholic beverage from the floor and says, "Here! I don't know what it is, and I don't particularly care, but if it'll get you to shut up, then by all means, drink it!" Her eyes widen in fear, and she obediently swipes the bottle from his hand and takes a sip.

"Alrighty, Blainers, let's just take some deep breaths and a few shots, hmm?" Santana wags her eyebrows suggestively, handing them each a full shot glass. Blaine accepts his gratefully. She pretends not to see Kurt pass his off to Lauren behind his back and head over to where he sees less potent beverages. It doesn't matter, though. It's not going to take long for Kurt to get drunk, no matter what type of booze he consumes.

And boy, will it be entertaining.

Of course, Santana always forgets that she becomes a blubbering, desperate mess when she has too much to drink. She finds herself paying less attention to whether or not her hot, gay friends are still wearing clothing and more attention to Brittany, who is obviously going to leave her for someone better someday.

"Brittany, you love me don't you? Don't you?" she whimpers, throwing herself onto Brittany's lap. Brittany frowns and pats her head reassuringly.

"Santana, of course I love you!" Santana cranes her neck to look at Brittany. Brittany is clad only in a bra covered in butterflies and a pair of short shorts, but Santana doesn't seem to notice.

"No, you don't! You're so pretty and so awesome, and I'm such a bitch, and you'd just be better off with, like, Finn or that hot cocktail waitress we saw earlier, wouldn't you?" Santana wails, pulling herself off of Brittany and flailing her arms wildly before throwing herself onto the floor.

The last thing she remembers before she passes out is Brittany hooking her arms around her chest and Blaine grabbing her ankles as they moved her from her position on the floor to the sofa.

Actually, the last thing she remembers before she passes out is the fact that Blaine is still wearing a shirt. Damn it.

Mercedes is pretty drunk. Sam can tell by the way she keeps laughing and playing with his hair, and he's pretty sure she started singing "Trouty Mouth" a minute ago, until she burst into giggles.

He's definitely buzzed at the least, and he's actually having a good time for the first time on this trip. Alcohol does that to you, he remembers almost fondly. He hasn't actually been drunk since the Rachel Berry House Party. It seems that college has had the opposite effect on him and has turned him into an anti-party animal.

It's probably because he goes to Christian community college. And they've brainwashed him.

At midnight Mercedes taps his shoulder repeatedly to get his attention and enthusiastically announces to him, "You're twenty-one!" He smiles at her and takes another swig of whatever's in his red plastic cup, not knowing what to say since they've been drinking for hours now.

She giggles and rests her head on his shoulder. She smells like...good. He can't think of a word to describe it. Kinda fruity, he guesses. Maybe it's flowery. Okay, he doesn't know what the hell he's talking about because he's drunk and full of shit, but she smells really good and warm, and he likes having her close to him.

And he's pretty sure it's not the cheap champagne talking.

"Fiiiiiinn..." Rachel drawls, weaving her arms around Finn's middle. He carefully tries to pry her fingers away from his waist, but she's fiercely gripping his T-shirt in her fingers.

"Yes, Rachel?" he asks hesitantly, still trying to escape her grasp.

"I'm so sorry I got mad at you," she slurs. "Let's never fight again, okay?" He doesn't respond. "Okay?" she asks nervously, sounding hurt.

"Yeah, sure, whatever," Finn says, hoping she doesn't turn from a clingy drunk into a weepy drunk. But then she presses her lips to his sloppily, and he's pretty sure she's just clingy. And while he'd rather her make out with him while she's sober, it's still better than her crying and yelling at him.

Blaine often forgets that he occasionally developes heterosexual tendencies while under the influence, and it's Kurt's job to keep him occupied and distracted from any and all potential games of spin-the-bottle.

He doesn't particularly enjoy playing the part of Blaine's overprotective, jealous boyfriend. It reminds him too much of Rachel and every other teenage girl obsessed with whether or not their boyfriend is staring at someone else. But someone has to keep Blaine from accidentally flirting with their friends, particularly female ones.

And if preventing Blaine from partaking in adolescent party games means pinning him up against the bathroom wall with his hips, then so be it.

Kurt sinks his teeth into Blaine's soft skin, nipping and sucking at the sensitive spot where his neck meets his shoulder while massaging Blaine's curls with one hand. He works at Blaine's neck with his mouth, making sure to leave a mark before licking a stripe up to the spot just under his ear, swirling his tongue around and eliciting a soft moan from Blaine. He smiles and presses a kiss to Blaine's jaw.

Blaine tangles his fingers in Kurt's hair and pulls his head back to look him in the eye. He rests his forehead against Kurt's and captures his lips in a wet kiss. Their tongues slide against one another's sloppily, and Blaine's fingers tighten in Kurt's hair as Kurt's warm hands wander over Blaine's chest, resting at his hips to curls his fingers around Blaine's waistband. Blaine swips his tongue across Kurt's bottom lip and where the hell did he even learn how to kiss like that? He fists his hands in Blaine's T-shirt, trying to keep from arching his hips closer to Blaine's. Blaine smiles into his mouth, one hand fumbling with the button on Kurt's jeans-

Knock, knock.

They jump apart instantly, smoothing out each others mussed hair and rumpled clothes. More than agitated, Kurt answers, "Can I help you?" to whoever is at the door.

"It's Rachel," she replies. Kurt and Blaine roll their eyes and sigh exasperatedly. "Can you let me in? I think I'm gonna be sick!" she shouts. Kurt opens the door and gives Rachel the ultimate bitch glare, and she pushes them out of the bathroom, slamming the door shut behind her.

Everyone outside the bathroom gives them a knowing smirk, and Kurt resists the urge to flash them his middle finger and swear at the top of his lungs.

Puck arrives at the party after more than half of the guests have either gone home or passed out on the floor. The only conscious ones present are Lauren and Finn, and Finn doesn't look like he's been drinking anyway.

"Hey, Puckerman, way to show up," Lauren snarks. He chooses to ignore her.

"Where'd everyone go?" he asks, gesturing to the mostly empty room, with the exception of a few sleeping bodies.

"It's two in the morning, the all went back to their rooms," Finn explained.

"At least, most of them did," Lauren said. "Sam decided to stay with Mercedes since she could barely stand on her own, Kurt and Blaine went to go do it since they kept getting cockblocked here, and Mike and Tina went to go be cold and distant in private, I guess."

Puck looks around the room at those who didn't make it back to their rooms. Quinn is lying horizontally on one of the beds, Britt and Santana are sleeping comfortably in the other, Artie is passed out in his wheelchair in the corner, and Rachel is...

"Hey, where's Rachel?" he asks. Lauren points to the bathroom. He peeks his head around and sees Rachel curled up on the fuzzy bathroom mat.

"Aww," he says, snapping a picture with his phone. "That's precious."

"So what are you doing here?" Finn asks. "I thought you were hanging with some chick." Puck's face drops immediately.

"I don't wanna talk about it," he sulks. Lauren raises an eyebrow.

"Did you get dumped, cupcake? After one day?" she asks with mock sympathy.

"I said I don't wanna talk about it, Lauren!" he exclaims. She holds up her hands defensively.

"Alright, I get it. I'm going back to my room anyway. Do you think I should haul Quinn back with me?"

"It's fine, I'll take care of her." Finn has grabbed hold of Artie's wheelchair and is about to wheel him out the door when Puck asks, "Finn, do you want to leave Rachel in there?" He gestures to the bathroom.

Finn doesn't respond.

"I'll take your silence for a 'yes.'" Finn mouthes a thank you, taking off down the hallway before Rachel can wake up. Puck looks down at Quinn, who is still hanging off the side of the bed.

"Well, I guess it's just you and me, Quinnie," he says, picking her up bridal style and carrying back to his empty hotel room.

A/N: So, yeah. Drunk people.

Recap: Everyone got smashed, Puck doesn't want to talk about his girl, and Kurt and Blaine were cockblocked by Rachel again because I love running jokes. ;)

Up Next: Puck and Quinn have some bonding time, Lauren and Artie try to get to the bottom of Mike and Tina's strange behavior, and there's gambling! Yay!