fandomhighdorms | 6th Floor Common Room [Sunday evening]

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6th Floor Common Room [Sunday evening]

So, okay, it wasn't like Puck was Mr. Party Planner, ever. But Quinn had had a birthday and it wasn't like he was going to let anyone forget that just because some people were graduating or whatever.

So, Sunday eveningish, when he sort of figured most people had gotten rid of their parents or grandmas or whatever they had brought to the island, he'd set up the 6th floor common room for Quinn's party. He hadn't gotten streamers or anything, but he had gotten a banner that read 'HAPPY 17TH QUINN', which he'd hung across one of the walls. There was also a cake, which he hoped she'd like, but he had no idea because it wasn't like Puck was an expert on girl cakes. Or cakes in general, except in the way of knowing when they tasted awesome.

And there was a ball pit, too, which he figured instant entertainment, and plenty of food other than the cake, and a table for presents. Puck was resisting the urge to stand near it, threatening, and imply that he would beat people up if they didn't leave something. He was growing, this way.

[and since I did not realize that this party is in absentia thanks to new arrivals, we shall be handwaving the eventual presence of the delightful Ms. Fabray. :D]

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"Fuck, man, you could have put my eye out!" Nathan wasn't serious, of course, but having balls thrown at him was supposed to be a line he said to girls to make them laugh.

"Nah, it's too big," Puck decided. "And not pointy. Unless your eyes are really sensitive. Then you should probably wear goggles, dude."

"Yeah, that'll really make me a hit with the ladies," Nathan quipped, rolling his eyes. "I'll stroll on up with some Tupperware strapped to my fucking face, tell them I want to lick them all over and watch them laugh. And that all could have been prevented if I'd just gone with a pirate eyepatch over some fucking goggles, man."

"But then both eyes aren't protected," Puck pointed out solemnly. "Ladies love a well-prepared guy. They might admire your concern for personal safety."

"If you were a chick and I sauntered up wearing fucking protective goggles, would you be all turned on and ready to take your panties off?" Nathan asked, uncaring that he probably wouldn't get any sort of biased opinion here.

"No, but then, I'm really picky," Puck decided. "I like blonds."

"Both carpet and drapes?" Please, he was the king of vulgarity, like he wasn't going to ask.

"Drapes are what matters," Puck decided, shrugging. "It's not like you get to preview everything else, usually."

"That's not necessarily true," Nathan pointed out with a shake of his head. "Have you seen some of the things girls call skirts these days? If they bend down or cross their legs, you're gonna get a full view of the carpet if they've eschewed themselves of panties."

"We'll see that a lot more in summer," Puck said with a nod. "It's been too cold for teeny little skirts. But dude, trust me, I used to go to a school where the cheerleaders wore their uniforms every day. Sometimes those girls 'forget' their special cheer panties. It's a magic day when that happens."

"Americans have special cheer panties?" Nathan asked, gasping because he'd never known that joy in England. "And why has this trend not crossed the fucking ocean yet?"

"I dunno, dude, but they're amazing," Puck said, shaking his head with a tsk. "Don't you guys wear kilts or whatever over there, anyway?"

"Actually, yes, we do," Nathan said, just going with it. "We also have tribal feathers sewn into our skin and dance around our national plant, the hibiscus, every night before dinner."

Would Puck believe any of that? Nathan wasn't sure.

"You don't have feathers," Puck said suspiciously.

Everything else totally passed inspection, though, sure.

"Can you see all my skin?" Nathan asked, glancing down at his covered arms and legs. "How do you know the feathers aren't hidden? They're a very sacred thing!"

Puck frowned. "Do British chicks have them, too?" he asked carefully. "Because like, there's a lot of really hot chicks from England or whatever who've been in Playboy, and they don't have feathers."

"Just the Irish, my friend," Nathan said, nodding. "We're a rather odd bunch over there. Could something like Lucky Charms have come from a place that wasn't a little fucked up and strange? Lucky Charms are just a few steps away from LSD."

"You're from Ireland?" Puck frowned, his eyes darting up to Nathan's hair. "...but you're all tall and not a ginger."

Let him work through this. It'll take a second.

"What the fuck do you think the Irish look like, mate?" Nathan asked, fully expecting him to describe a fucking leprechaun.

"...freckled," Puck said carefully. "Short. Red hair. Usually wearing green. Sometimes with a buckled hat?"

"And where did you get that description of the Irish from?" Nathan had to ask.

"Books," Puck said, shrugging. "St. Patrick's Day cards."

"You do realize all that shit's made by Americans and is probably fucking wrong, right?" Nathan asked, shaking his head. "Americans thinks Ireland is the land of pots of fucking gold, rainbows and alcohol. They don't know fucking shit, mate. You should wake up and not be one of those that walks with the crowd."

"There isn't pots of gold and alcohol?" Puck asked sadly. "Dude, I was counting on making you my new Irish drinking buddy."

"There's plenty of fucking alcohol, mate, Nathan said, reaching over and giving Puck's shoulder a pat. "And I even have a job at the bar which means I get free alcohol whenever I'm there. There aren't any fucking pots of gold because we're not fucking leprechauns. Not even for fucking Halloween."

6th Floor Common Room [Sunday evening]

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