A/N: So here's part two of Santana's party. T for language and underage drinking. Of course there's some fluff squeezed in there too.

Chapter 9

Azimio's older brother showed up thirty minutes later with not only a case of Natural Light, but two forties of malt liquor, a fifth of Bacardi and a liter of vodka that smelled like paint thinner. Finn didn't really want another drink, but he also didn't want to look lame, so he accepted the beer Puck pressed into his hands and took a sip whenever the liquor came his way.

The party was growing steadily more boisterous as people shouted over Santana's blaring iPod. Most of the girls were giggly and sloppy at this point, and the boys were loud and rambunctious. There was a messy game of beer pong at the kitchen table, flip cup on the counter, and Finn only narrowly avoided getting roped into a game of quarters in the living room. Instead, he watched as Puck, Santana and Brittany played and got progressively more and more intoxicated.

After the game, his three friends were well beyond buzzed and majorly into drunk territory. They could barely keep themselves upright so Finn sat them safely on the carpet. He tried to listen to whatever Puck was shouting about above the cacophony of noise around them.

"And then—and then we nailed his lawn furniture to the fucking roof!" he was saying, hanging on to Finn's shoulder for support. "All of it. Table, chairs, even that gay little umbrella thing. And we used these diesel fucking nails too. They had to be, like, this long." He held his hands up to show how big they were, but lost his balance and flopped into Finn's side.

Santana was doubled over laughing with her head in Brittany's lap. "Oh my god, that's fucking great," she said, wiping the tears from her eyes.

"But then his dad caught us and hit us in the face with the hose." Puck had been unable to right himself after falling over, and was now merely bracing himself on Finn's thigh by a forearm. Finn stayed perfectly still. He was acutely aware of Puck's proximity, but had no desire to push him off.

"Old Man Hummel is a scary son-of-a-bitch," Santana mused pensively, and Finn watched her subtly walk her fingers across Brittany's ass. He didn't know which was more exciting; the girls practically feeling each other up in front of him or the fact that Puck's hand was dangerously close to his dick.

They paused to take a swill from the Bacardi when it was passed to them. Santana, Brittany and Puck each took long gulps, but Finn faked it by keeping his lips pressed tight together and only allowing a tiny bit of the burning liquid into his mouth.

"He is a scary mother fucker," Puck agreed. "He kept telling us what we'd done was a 'hate crime' while blasting us with the damn hose. But it was so worth it. It's not gonna be easy getting those nails out, let me tell you."

"Imagine if he'd caught you," said Santana. She was slyly working her hand under the hem of Brittany's devil dress. Finn couldn't take his eyes off the lesbian spectacle in front of him while still enjoying the pressure of Puck's warm body leaning on him.

"We'd probably be sex slaves to his freaky homo son right about now," said Puck, his head lolling on Finn's shoulder.

Santana pulled a face. "Yeah, Lady-Face Hummel is a fucking whack job. You should see how he's decorated his goggles for science lab. Like, come on. We get it, you're a queer. Doesn't mean you have to bedazzle everything!"

Finn winced, feeling something stir unpleasantly inside him. He wasn't sure he liked talking about Hummel so derisively, and he already felt kind of bad for his role in the lawn furniture prank. He shifted suddenly, shrugging Puck off of him, maybe a bit more roughly that he meant to. Puck looked up at him with his eyebrows raised, clearly surprised at being pushed off his comfortable spot against Finn's side. Finn caught his eye and gave him a pointed look.

Puck opened his mouth to say something, but Finn never found out what because Santana suddenly pulled her hand out of Brittany's underwear and staggered to her feet. The boys looked up at her, perplexed.

"Y'all motherfuckers ready for Nurse Santana's special medicine?" she shouted loudly to the room at large. A chorus of cheers met her words.

She sashayed off to the kitchen and Finn openly stared as her tight ass walked away. He was then distracted by something pressing into his side. Tearing his eyes away from Santana, he was surprised to find Puck leaning on him again. He was looking up at Finn with those heart-melting hazel eyes, his expression borderline apologetic. That was odd because Puck never looked guilty, and he certainly never looked sorry. Yet here he was, his face all innocent and hopeful—and dare Finn think it, but cute. And Finn found had no choice but to smile. Puck grinned back at him, shoulders sagging, looking almost relieved. And in a further act of unpredictability, he threw his arms around Finn's shoulders, burying his face in his neck.

"I love you, man. I really do," he mumbled into Finn's shirt. And unlike when he shouted it before while sprawled across Finn's lap, this time he sounded so honest and sincere. It kind of made Finn's heart hurt.

Finn blinked slowly, feeling very taken aback. Puck wasn't exactly known for his cuddly nature, and Finn knew it was only the alcohol making him act this way. But still, his vulnerability felt so real and it was making Finn get a little choked up. He gently patted his drunk friend on the shoulder, letting his hand linger on the back of his neck right where his mohawk kicked out. "I…love you too, man," he whispered, giving his neck a little squeeze.

He was vaguely aware of how gay this probably looked, but the desire to stretch this moment out for as long as possible seemed way more important. It wasn't until everybody in the kitchen started screaming their heads off that Puck and Finn sprang apart. Pucks eyes were downcast, his cheeks pink-tinged and a little smile playing on his lips. He looked so adorable like that and Finn could have stared at him forever, but that wasn't an option. Santana had strutted back into the room carrying a tray over her head.

"Alright, bitches! You better take all your pills or Nurse Santana's gonna be very upset!" Finn watched as she bent over, passing around little medicine cups off the tray.

He was surprised to find gummy bears in the little cup she pressed into his hands. Warily, he popped one in his mouth, but then his whole face started to burn and he nearly spat it across the room. "Shit! What's in these?" he yelled, forgetting all about Puck's cute face and focusing completely on the burn in his own.

Puck grinned up at him. "Barton's," he said, downing his whole cup in one go.

"What?"

"Vodka. She soaked the gummy bears in it. Try the red ones, they're the best."

Finn refrained from asking how he could possibly know the red ones were the best when he just ate them all at once. Gingerly, he fished out a red gummy bear and bit its head off. He pulled a face, which only made Puck throw his head back and laugh. "Urgh, no. Here, you have them," Finn said, dropping the bear's body back in the cup and thrusting it into Puck's hands.

"Suit yourself," said Puck, knocking back Finn's entire cup.

Clearly, giving Puck his cup of gummy bears had been the wrong move because in the ensuing half hour, Puck reached a new level of intoxication. Finn had a hell of a time wrangling him. Puck had gone from a giggly, stumbly drunk to a full-on tornado of destruction. He spilled soda all over the kitchen counter narrowly missing Santana's iPod. He tried to pee in a potted plant, and Finn had to yank his hands out of his pants and steer him to the bathroom. He got in a fight with Azimio, and Finn had to pull him away before he got himself killed. But it was when he tripped and nearly put a foot through Santana's abuelita's ceramic statue of the Virgin Mary that Finn knew it was time to leave.

"Alright, that's it, Jesus, you're cut off. Time to head home," Finn said, grabbing Puck by the shoulders and steering him through the throng of drunks to the front door.

"What? But I'm having fun!" Puck protested as Finn forced him to sit on the stairs and helped him shove his feet in his boots.

"I know you are, but you're a little too sloppy right now."

"Hey, I'm not sloppy!" Puck argued, tipping to the side and smacking his head on the banister. "Ow."

Finn snorted as he struggled to lace up Puck's boots. "Of course you aren't. But it's my job as your best friend to get you out of here before you make an ass of yourself—well, a bigger ass than you've already made so far."

"You think I'm an ass?" Puck looked up at him with a great deal of concern in his wide hazel eyes. Finn couldn't help laughing.

"Don't worry about it, dude. Now come on, let's get you home." He grabbed his buddy by the upper arms and hauled him to his feet.

"Ow, my head," Puck moaned, stumbling forward, his arm snaking around Finn's waist for balance.

"Easy does it, Stumbles," Finn teased gently, pulling him out the door. His skin practically tingled where Puck had latched onto his hip. "The cold air will do you good."