Title: Not Boyfriends – A Puckerson Drabble Challenge (11/30)
Author: pterawaters
Rating: NC-17 (sex and language)
Characters/Pairings: Puck/Blaine
Genre: Romance/Humor/Drama/Etc
Warnings: slash, not nearly enough Kurt
Spoilers: season 2
Disclaimer: Glee is not mine, at all
Words: 900
Author's Note: Written as a (hopefully) 30-day series of short drabbles, posting once per day to fanfiction, gleeslash and blaineships

Prompt Word #11: Window

Summary: A Puck/Blaine story told as a series of short drabbles, all inspired by single words.

Puck woke up to a scrabbling sound outside his window. What the hell? At first he thought maybe it was a rat, since his complex had been having problems with them lately, but it sounded too big to be a rat. It sounded more like a person. It sounded like a person trying to climb up the pipe next to his window and failing miserably.

Rolling his eyes, Puck got out of bed and went over there, opening the window to look out at the dark figure trying and failing to get a grip on the pipe. "Blaine?"

The boy's face turned up and he grinned widely, "Hey, honey!"

"Keep it down," Puck hissed, shivering at the cold air and wincing at the thought of the talking-to he would get if Blaine woke up his mom. "I'll come let you in the front door."

"Okay!" Blaine called back, and Puck could tell he wasn't quite in his right mind. Shit.

As soon as Puck let the guy in, holding him until he took off his snowy boots and left them in the hallway so he wouldn't track water all over the house, he could smell the alcohol on his not-boyfriend's breath. "What happened, babe?"

"What am I doing?" Blaine asked, and Puck knew he wasn't really asking anyone in particular. "I mean, god, I love you and you just…"

"This is about me?" Puck asked quietly, trying to keep Blaine's voice down as he pulled the guy into the kitchen – the room furthest from his mom's bedroom. "I thought we were good. I mean, last night after the game things seemed really good, Blaine."

"Oh, they were," Blaine replied with a sick sort of chuckle as he leaned back against the counter, putting his hand over his eyes. "So good, in fact, that my dad saw the … the used condoms. You know, before I had a chance to take the garbage out."

"Shit," Puck sighed, knowing Blaine and his dad didn't really see eye-to-eye when it came to the whole fucking dudes thing. If Puck's old man was still around, Puck was pretty sure he'd be even more of an asshole about it. Moving to take Blaine in his arms, mostly to comfort him, but also because he looked like he might not be able to stand up much longer, Puck asked, "What did he say?"

"It was more…" Blaine wavered, taking his hand away and meeting Puck's eyes. Softly he said, "Hey," in that voice he liked to use right before asking to make out or something, breath heavy with what smelled like tequila.

"Don't go off topic on me, dude," Puck sighed, backing off a little, but putting his hand on the side of Blaine's neck so he knew Puck wasn't going anywhere until he spit it out. "What happened?"

"He said he never imagined me doing that in his house. He said he was disgusted," Blaine admitted. "He said he would prosecute whoever was corrupting me. I told him to go to hell and then broke into his liquor cabinet."

"Did you drive like this?" Puck asked, much more concerned about that possibility than Mr. Anderson trying to get him arrested for fucking the dude's son. Puck had checked, like, a long time ago. Age of consent was sixteen in Ohio. He and Blaine were both seventeen.

"No," Blaine insisted. "I drove and drove and then I pulled over at that park where we like to make out and started drinking there. Then it got cold and I figured I could crash here, with you and we could do more wicked things my father doesn't want to know about."

"I don't think that's a good idea," Puck whispered, though Blaine was giving him that look that made it hard to say no. Then again, "My ma and my sister are here and you're a screamer, babe."

"Excuse," Blaine insisted, pushing Puck's shoulder away and looking up at the ceiling like it was the only thing keeping him from crying. "You just don't want to because I am disgusting. Otherwise you would love me, right?"

Deep in his chest, where that little bit of a conscience he had thumped, Puck hurt. He hurt because Blaine was hurting and obviously had been for a while. Shit. He only felt like this when he did bad things to people he cared about, like his friends or sometimes Quinn.

"Hey," Puck grit out through his teeth, grasping at Blaine's arms. "You're the least disgusting dude I know, Anderson. Your dad can go fuck himself, because I do love you."

"You what?" Blaine asked, finally going still and looking up into Puck's eyes. "You do?"

"Yeah, alright, I do," Puck nodded, giving Blaine a deep kiss and trying not to wince at the taste of liquor. "Don't go telling anyone, though, okay?"

Blaine nodded, but his stupid eyebrows looked concerned at the same time, like he couldn't understand why Noah Puckerman falling in love with a freaking dude was something he wanted to play close to the chest for awhile. Then he sagged in Puck's arms, asking quietly, "Take me to bed?"

"Sure," Puck sighed, putting one of Blaine's arms around his shoulders and getting a good grip on the dude's waist so he could half carry him up to the bedroom. "Sure, babe."

A big part of Puck hoped that Blaine was so far gone he wouldn't quite remember this in the morning.

What do you think of my version of Blaine? Any other comments/reviews would be highly appreciated as well! Thanks for reading!