gay waffles
As some of you have been asking, here's a snippet from the upcoming part of Gay Waffles. I'm aaaalmost done with the next part; hopefully I'll have it posted sometime within the week. I'm really sorry it's taken me nearly two months to finish! I'm thinking I should try and make the parts shorter so the wait won't be so long.
“Good,” Sam says before he realizes that Santana isn’t actually interested in his well-being. “Um, so, what’s up?”
“Okay, look, I’m just gonna cut to the chase here. It’s Puck. You have to do something about him before I murder him.”
“I’m not following. What’s wrong with Puck?”
“Cute,” Santana says, smiling. It somehow makes her look even more terrifying. “Pretending to play dumb to protect your image. I know you’re a big flaming homo, okay? You know what’s going on with Puck.”
Sam feels his face flushing, but he doesn’t deny it. “How’s he doing?”
“He won’t get off my couch,” she snaps. “I have this awesome couch in my room-Brittany always has dibs on it, but Puck’s been wallowing all over it the entire weekend. He just comes in my room and takes root, and it makes it really awkward for when Brittany wants to come over. And Puck won’t even mess around with me anymore anyway, so why should I let him use my couch when he won’t even put out?”
Sam stares silently for a second too long, because Santana snaps her fingers in front of his face and scowls. He flinches slightly, but he’s mostly stuck on how Puck isn’t getting naked with Santana anymore.
“He’s going through a lot,” Sam says eventually, shrugging.
“I know. He’s having some stupid identity crisis that I’m sure has a lot to do with how he stares at your ass, but you have got to get him off my couch. I needs to get my mack on with other interested parties.”
“I can’t control him,” Sam says, wrinkling his nose.
“Oh, please. You have Noah Puckerman whipped,” Santana says.
Sam lets out a snort. “I really don’t. Things would be different I did.”
“Good,” Sam says before he realizes that Santana isn’t actually interested in his well-being. “Um, so, what’s up?”
“Okay, look, I’m just gonna cut to the chase here. It’s Puck. You have to do something about him before I murder him.”
“I’m not following. What’s wrong with Puck?”
“Cute,” Santana says, smiling. It somehow makes her look even more terrifying. “Pretending to play dumb to protect your image. I know you’re a big flaming homo, okay? You know what’s going on with Puck.”
Sam feels his face flushing, but he doesn’t deny it. “How’s he doing?”
“He won’t get off my couch,” she snaps. “I have this awesome couch in my room-Brittany always has dibs on it, but Puck’s been wallowing all over it the entire weekend. He just comes in my room and takes root, and it makes it really awkward for when Brittany wants to come over. And Puck won’t even mess around with me anymore anyway, so why should I let him use my couch when he won’t even put out?”
Sam stares silently for a second too long, because Santana snaps her fingers in front of his face and scowls. He flinches slightly, but he’s mostly stuck on how Puck isn’t getting naked with Santana anymore.
“He’s going through a lot,” Sam says eventually, shrugging.
“I know. He’s having some stupid identity crisis that I’m sure has a lot to do with how he stares at your ass, but you have got to get him off my couch. I needs to get my mack on with other interested parties.”
“I can’t control him,” Sam says, wrinkling his nose.
“Oh, please. You have Noah Puckerman whipped,” Santana says.
Sam lets out a snort. “I really don’t. Things would be different I did.”