Chapter eleven

The next morning, Sam was the first of the trio to wake up. After rubbing his eyes, he tried to stretch, but found himself obstructed. Puck's arm was still draped around his chest, Blaine had his waist covered and he wasn't even going to attempt to untangle his legs from the other four. He exhaled some air into his mouth, causing his sticky lips to slip apart, and he released the breath. A little uncomfortable, he shifted his weight a little, frowning when he noticed he really wasn't going to be able to get out of the human prison. The warmth that his friends were radiating into his body was somehow causing him to yawn widely – so widely he was glad no one was awake to see it, because it sure would've triggered some teasing comments. He watched Blaine, who was moving his head more into the pillow.

"Sam…" he softly called.

"Hmm?" the blond replied.

"Noah…" Blaine then sighed.

Sam suddenly noticed the loving tone in the boy's voice and he had to lock his jaw in order not to exclaim a laugh. Apparently the youngest one was dreaming about him and his other friend and Sam was sure it was a very nice delusion. He chuckled as softly as he possibly could, then felt Puck's arm twitch, concluding in Sam holding his breath again, hoping that he wouldn't wake his bro up.

Back to looking at Blaine's alluring facial expression, Sam started wondering about the situation he had found himself in. He had admitted to liking the cuddling he and his friends sometimes did out loud once before, but it still felt a little awkward realizing it. Naturally, the comic freak had always been a hugger, but sleeping with his best friends and…touching…was definitely stepping it up a notch. Puck bussed behind him, scooting a little closer. Sam assumed he was having a nice dream too, because…oh God, oh God, oh God. The blond quickly moved his hips forward a little, breaking the contact between his bottom and Puck's…yeah. He shivered at the thought, but frowned at himself when it came to his attention that his quiver wasn't one of disgust. His eyebrows knitted together even more when he started questioning himself. Great, another thing he now had to worry about.

But the mohawked man's voice echoed in his mind, "Call it a guilty pleasure." Sam couldn't help but smile a little at that, feeling his thoughts die down. In that particular moment in history, he had joked about maybe asking for a cuddle sometime, but had never actually done it. The tension he was experiencing just a minute ago had subsided when he reminded himself that his friends liked it too and it was then that Sam vowed to himself that he would ask for some physical contact every once in a while. He had to admit that, somehow, the world seemed brighter when he was trapped in the embrace of his friends, almost like the baggage he was carrying on his shoulder had become lighter. Sam was too oblivious to have actually understood the true meaning of those feelings.

But calling said baggage back to his mind made him anxious again. He felt guilty for lying to his friends, but he just couldn't afford to tell them. They probably wouldn't understand how his eating disorder was the result of too much stress in his life, would most likely even call him weird and that was something the Evans teenager didn't need. And then there was the issue that his friends now actually did know about what he was doing to himself, making it even harder for him to continue. What would he expediently do if he lost what at least felt like his last grip on his life? What would he fall into? Would he crash and burn? Become lost and just stop moving?

He was about to find out.

While Sam had been debating his options, Puck was the second person to wake up. The weird arm muscle twitch had been the cause of this. He didn't open his eyes immediately, though, nor would he move his body, never, actually. No, Noah Puckerman was definitely a snoozer. Even if his brain would be active and present, he would try to remain in that blissful feeling of rest. The boy who he was still holding – which he cursed himself for, because that fucking Anderson had been right about cuddling; it was some good shit – moved away from him a little. That's when Puck realized he was sporting a massive case of morning wood. Trying to keep himself from bursting into laughter, he wondered if Sam had been awake and felt it, that being the reason that he had relocated himself. He focused on his hearing, but it turned out that the Hobbit and the Dork were breathing simultaneously, hindering him to make out if one of them was doing it differently. He shook his head mentally; "so gay," he thought.

The ends of Sam's hair were tickling his nose and he scrunched it up, moving his head just enough so that they wouldn't anymore. The thought of the guy's hair made his mind flash back to the night before, where the blond bangs had obstructed him from looking into Sam's slightly reddened eyes. Puck recalled himself exploding and it irritated him. He had noticed that he was having outbursts a lot more often lately and he actually found it worrisome. Not being able to quite put his finger on answering the question "why?" frustrated him even more, so after a while of lying awake, he got sick of himself, resulting in him deciding to see if Blaine was already up.

Said boy had been having a vivid dream about his two best friends. It was one of the first nights that his mind hadn't drawn Kurt's face in front of him and he didn't really realize it, but he felt grateful and relieved. Never did he ever want to part from the two he was having mental images of, silently considering if they could maybe live together one day if he and Sam would go to college at the end of the school year. Blaine was convinced that, with some persuading, Puck would try to find a job and step on board, too. How awesome would that be, just the three of them, sharing an apartment for the upcoming couple of years?

Unfortunately, Blaine's dream disappeared when something big started feeling up his face. Scoffing, he fluttered his eyes open, a confused and annoyed expression on his face.

"Noah, what the-?"

"Hush, Anderson, you'll wake Sam up," Puck reminded him warningly.

"Already in the land of the living," the blond suddenly spoke up.

"Now look what you did!"

"What I did? Noah, your hand was feeling up my face."

"So? I had to check if your eyes were open," Puck explained.

"Couldn't you just have looked?" Blaine countered, still a little grumpy from getting ripped out of his sleep.

"Got a bit of a mood, don't we?" Sam interrupted their bickering, smiling cheekily, "were you having a good dream or something?"

"Yes, I dreamed that I was sleeping," Blaine lied, turning around to fake-mock, while he actually needed to hide his reddening face.

Sam chuckled, poked the boy's side and then pulled him close. Since he had surrendered himself to the great concept that was cuddling, he had decided to make the most out of every given opportunity, because even though he had vowed it minutes ago, he probably wouldn't have the guts to ever ask for one.

Blaine's cheeks only started to burn even more when he felt his back pressing against his friend's chest.

For a couple of minutes, the three guys lay there quietly, on Blaine's king sized bed. Each of them was entertained by their own thoughts and secretly enjoying the affection; Sam trying to catch every shot of excitement as he was caught between two warm bodies, Blaine revising his dream and Puck debating if he should thrust his hips forward just once, only to see how Sam would respond.

But he didn't, not wanting to end up making things awkward and…and maybe, just maybe, because he wasn't saying he would, it was just a slight chance that he might, maybe, maybe, would hate losing his bigger spoon privileges.

"Food," he broke the silence in one, long, grumbling whine.

Blaine snorted and Sam shot up. "Crap! What time is it?!" he asked no one in particular, for he was already wrestling himself out of his current position, causing the other two to internally groan.

"A little past eleven," Blaine answered, turning around to look over Puck so that he could read the red numbers on the alarm clock on his bedside table, something Sam had forgotten was there.

"No! No, that can't be!" Sam exclaimed, rushing his hands through his hair to turn it into something at least remotely presentable, "come on, guys, get up!"

"Dude, would you calm down?" Puck muttered, rubbing his forehead.

"Yeah, Samuel, why are you getting so worked up?" Blaine, always trying to understand, asked.

"Duh! We have school. Hurry up, we've already missed way too many classes," Sam answered, hoping that his words would cause his friends to take action at moving off the bed.

"Just don't go," Puck shrugged easily, showing the blond a weird look since that solution was so obvious to him.

"I'm sure we won't get in trouble if we missed a day," Blaine added, upping an eyebrow.

"Casually reminding you that this will be your second, this week," Puck mumbled.

Blaine ignored him. "Come on, let's go downstairs. I'll put on some coffee and prepare some eggs and bacon or something."

"Food!" Puck exclaimed happily, throwing his arms up in excitement after he had sat up.

"But…but guys…" Sam stammered, even though he knew it was a lost cause. Still, he couldn't really afford to not go. His grades weren't that amazing and he feared that skipping would be the definite death of them – needless to point out that was a ridiculous conclusion.

Puck got behind his friend, a devious smirk around his lips as he placed his hand over Sam's mouth, forcing him to shut up. An exaggerated action, but it at least had Blaine grinning.

Once downstairs, Puck sat his hostage down at the kitchen table, quickly taking his homework away, because he knew it would make the boy think of school. At first, Sam's mind was racing with worries that he would completely fail now, but then he heard the fusing of eggs in melted butter. His head shot up, immediately on his guard.

"Don't be bothered to prepare some for me. I'm not hungry anyway," he announced, tapping his heel against the floor nervously.

"Bro, you're gonna eat, whether you're hungry or not," Puck shrugged, pouring the coffee into three mugs.

"Don't worry, I'm great at frying eggs. You'll love it," Blaine smiled, moving the pan off the stove.

Just as Sam expected; his friends were going to make him eat. He breathed out a helpless sounding sigh, trying to think of something he could do. Apparently his facial expression was betraying him, because Puck reminded him, "And don't even think about throwing it up afterwards, 'cause Blaine and I are gonna be on your ass for the whole day."

Sam's leg started to move faster as he looked up at his friends. "Come on, guys…I told you, I'm not hungry," he tried again, starting to chew on the inside of his lips.

"Noah's right, Samuel," Blaine told him, making sure to keep his voice in a caring tone, "you need to eat and keep it in. Your body needs the energy."

Sam's eyes looked around the room as if he would find something that could possibly help him. Obviously, he didn't, so he vigorously changed his chewing strategy to biting down on his bottom lip. He needed to get out of this. He still had to punish himself for his friends finding out his secret and an egg & mayonnaise breakfast sure wasn't an option. He just couldn't, not after what had happened last night. Nothing in his life was going even a little as it should go and he needed to stay strong. He needed to remain stable, so then at least someone was. Eating wasn't going to solve anything; it would only make matters worse. The thin line he was hanging on would break and he would fall.

Blaine squeezed Sam's shoulder as he set the plate down in front of him. The smells had already made Sam feel sick to his stomach, but noticing that his friend had also put his two fried eggs and three stripes of bacon down as a little smiley face - like in those cartoons he always used to watch when he was little – caused a lump to form in his throat. Puck sat down across from him and Sam looked up. His eyes were begging for help, but the other remained a stern look. The blond averted his gaze to Blaine, who still standing next to him, but he just smiled encouragingly at him.

"Guys, please…" Sam choked out, directing his pupils from the one to the other again.

Puck shook his head silently and Sam huffed out a trembling breath.

He shouldn't eat. He really, really shouldn't. There was no way he was going to drop down that ravine and crash. It was out of the question, he had already set his mind to that.

"Come on, Samuel. It tastes good, I promise," Blaine tried to convince him.

The blond shook his head, tears welling up in his as he sniffed. "No…" he squeezed out of his throat, his voice an octave higher because of the snatch in his windpipe.

"Trust me," the youngest one assured him, rubbing his back.

"No, no, it's not…" Sam whispered, balling his hands, which were on his knees.

"For fuck sake, dude, just eat!" Puck demanded, avoiding Blaine's judging look.

"I-I don't…" Sam stammered, a shiver running down his spine, "…I can't."

"What do you mean, you can't?" Puck replied weirdly, "just open your mouth, put it in, chew and swallow."

"At least try it," Blaine offered.

A sob escaped Sam's throat. "Stop, please," he wept hopelessly, a tear escaping his left eye, "please? I-I…I…" Another sob forced itself out of his mouth, announcing the dam was broken. The blond started crying openly, his fists still clenched and his body trembling all over. "I don't wanna eat…" he yammered, shaking his head slowly as tears dropped down his face and onto his lap.

Puck was genuinely surprised by this extreme reaction and he shot Blaine a blunt look, guilt overtaking his conscious. This was fucking insane, all because the guy wants to lose some fat? Jesus Christ.

Blaine took the plate away and set it down next to the sink before he sat down next to Sam. Stroking his back soothingly, Puck moved his chair to the blond's other side.

"Dude…calm down…" he indicated softly, hoping that it would be comforting in some way. He put his hand over Sam's fist, rubbing the turned white knuckles with his thumb. Slowly, they started to loosen up and the blond wiped the tears from his eyes with his free hand.

"It's okay," Blaine said, "you don't have to eat…" He wasn't agreeing with his own words, but he figured it was more important that his friend would stop panicking.

Their consoling seemed to be working, because Sam visibly relaxed again. Exhaling loudly, he turned his head to exchange a knowing look with his friends, not picking up on each of their identical thoughts that quietly whispered:

Second man down.

Author's note: I actually got feels writing this. Anyway, That's it for tonight's drama. Please, keep letting me know what you think by reviewing!

P.S. If there's any gif creators out there, hit me up. I need a Puck/Blaine/Same gif for my ads on Tumblr.