“I graduated high school, I lived in L.A. for six months, we’re legally able to drink, we put a real deposit down to rent this place, we both have full-time jobs, but this makes me feel like an adult,” Puck says as he closes the door behind the pizza delivery guy. “Buying pizza so we can sit on the couch and watch the election returns.”
“How’d we get so old?” Finn asks. He sets a bottle of beer on the table in front of Puck’s side of the couch and sits down again, his own bottle in his hand.
“Old and responsible,” Puck says, shaking his head. He puts the pizza down in the middle of the table and grabs the roll of paper towels before sitting down. “Bill-paying and everything. Don’t tell anyone that we actually know what our credit scores are.”
“I just hope the results come in fast. I’ve got to get up at five forty-five for work,” Finn says.
“I think tomorrow’s a large coffee kind of morning,” Puck says. “At least you don’t have any grading tonight.”
“Only because I skipped lunch to get it done.”
“Then eat more pizza than usual,” Puck says, flipping open the box and then turning up the volume a little higher. “I could bring you some more coffee tomorrow on my lunch. I know that the stuff at the school isn’t that great.”
“Tastes like it’s been in the pot for years,” Finn says. “It’s already burnt before it’s even brewed.”
Puck makes a face and picks up a slice of pizza, taking a bite and chewing it before continuing. “Like I said, I’ll bring you a thermos of the good stuff.”
“That’s why I love you.”
“Just that?” Puck jokes.
“That and your dick,” Finn says, grinning at Puck.
“Coffee and my dick!” Puck laughs and grabs his beer. “Well, now I know we’ll last forever, ’cause that’s an excellent foundation.”
“As long as we’ve got that going for us, right?”
“Yep.” Puck leans over and kisses Finn between bites. “Are they calling somewhere already?”
“Yeah, I think they’re calling Vermont,” Finn says. Sure enough, the graphics change in the background and the reporter announces that they’re calling Vermont for Hillary Clinton. “Sweet! That’s six bucks, right there.”
“Did you enter an election pool?” Puck asks. “By state?”
“I only entered one about who would win. What is it, per electoral vote per state?”
“If I say yes, are you going to be mad at me?” Finn asks.
“Only if you lose California,” Puck says after a few seconds, grinning and taking another drink of his beer.
“I’m not losing California,” Finn says. “I promise.”
“We should have made a sex bet. Whoever calls Texas right gets a blowjob, or something.”
“It’s not too late to make a bet now.”
“Hillary’s going to take it,” Puck says. “Thirty-something blue electoral votes.”
“I’m sorry to say, but she’s not taking Texas,” Finn says. “You can just go ahead and give me my prize right now.” He leans back and puts his hands behind his head.
“Almost an entire year focused on voter registration and get out the vote? She can do it,” Puck says. “You just want a blowjob while we wait for—”
“We’re now ready to call Indiana,” Rachel Maddow interrupts.
“Dammit, Maddow!” Finn says.
“Dammit, Indiana, too,” Puck says, frowning as Indiana turns red. “I mean, of course it is, but… why couldn’t they have surprised us?”
“At least I didn’t have any money riding on Indiana,” Finn says. “That’s an idiot’s bet.”
“What about Ohio and Florida?”
“Well, you know how I feel about swing states, Puck.”
“How much money did you bet?” Puck asks. “Should we have had ramen noodles instead of pizza?”
“It wasn’t that much,” Finn insists.
“Uh-huh,” Puck says skeptically, putting his empty beer down and sliding closer to Finn. “I really hope I’m unpopular at work tomorrow.”
“Yeah, me, too.”
“Are you going to give the kids extra credit for watching?”
“If they bring in a signed note from their parents that they actually watched it, yeah,” Finn says.
“See, that’s why you’re the teacher all the middle schoolers like,” Puck says. “There’s more of New England going blue.”
“Nobody would bet against me on New England, though.”
“Different kind of idiot’s bet, I guess. We could make out a little until they start calling some swing states.”
“Sounds good,” Finn says. He slides his arm around Puck, pulling him close as they kiss.
Puck ends up with more weight on Finn than the couch as time passes, the two of them still kissing. Puck pulls away somewhat reluctantly when they hear Rachel Maddow saying they’re about to call three more states.
“Think one of them’s Ohio?” Puck says as South Carolina turns red on the map.
“If so, you think I could get that blowjob a little bit early?” Finn asks. “Since I know it’s going blue.”
“Texas,” Puck says. “Texas is going blue.” When Ohio does get called for Hillary, though, he reaches over and puts his hand on Finn’s dick, over his pants.
“So that’s a yes, huh?”
“I’m just saying that a handjob’s on the table, especially if we get Florida,” Puck says. “I mean, you get a handjob, I get a blowjob, Hillary gets electoral votes, we’re all winners tonight. Right?”
Finn grins and puts his hands behind his head again. “Sounds like a great idea to me!”
“And if you win all these bets you made, just how nice of a dinner are we going to have Saturday night?” Puck asks, moving his hand slowly. He alternates between kissing Finn’s neck and nipping at it, nudging Finn’s arm slightly so he has better access.
“A really nice dinner,” Finn promises. “An even nicer bottle of wine.”
“Now I know we’re old, ’cause that sounds awesome,” Puck says, unbuckling Finn’s belt and unfastening his pants. “But that means we get to come back here after.”
“Yeah. Being old’s not that bad, all things considered,” Finn says.
“Yeah.” Puck slides his hand inside Finn’s underwear, wrapping his fingers around Finn’s dick and stroking slowly. “Kind of weirdly cool.”
“Good wine, nice dinner, and getting to go home with you after? It’s not even weird, it’s just cool,” Finn says.
“Yeah, why’d everyone say being an adult was so bad?” Puck asks. He moves his hand a little faster and kisses Finn’s neck again.
“Bills. Taxes.” Finn closes his eye and hums contentedly. “Plus they don’t get to come home to you.”
“Bills aren’t that bad. It’s a pretty good trade-off,” Puck says. “Is it going to get you off faster if I tell you that they just called Illinois and Wisconsin?”
“Is faster really what you’re going for?”
“Long-term research question. So I can plan for 2020,” Puck says, kissing Finn slowly while his hand keeps making steady strokes. “Does it?”
“Mmm. Yeah, maybe a little bit,” Finn admits.
“Good to know.” Puck moves his hand faster, then laughs suddenly. “I didn’t even make you wait for Florida.”
“Guess that makes you a winner whatever color it ends up,” Puck says. “Lucky you.”
“I’m a lucky guy,” Finn says. “That feels really good, too.”
“Mmmhmm.” Puck leans in to kiss Finn again, a little harder this time, and his hand tightens on Finn’s dick. “Love you.”
“Yeah. Love you, too,” Finn says. He lifts his hips up off the couch, thrusting into Puck’s hand. “Just a little more.”
“Yeah, I know.” Puck moves his hand faster and puts his lips on Finn’s ear, kissing and tugging at it. “Come on for me.”
Finn moans and thrusts up into Puck’s hand again as he comes. He sinks back against the couch, grinning at Puck. “Awesome.”
“Yeah,” Puck says, grinning back as he wipes off his hand. “I think we missed Florida being called.”
“Shit. Can you tell if it’s blue?”
“Don’t worry, I’m not going to take the handjob back,” Puck says, kissing Finn again briefly. “But I think it is. Come on, Texas. Come through for me.”
“There’s no way,” Finn says. “Not gonna happen!”
“You don’t have faith in get out the vote?” Puck says, shaking his head. “That’s horrible. You teach impressionable young minds.”
“Yeah, but it’s still Texas,” Finn says.
“Nate Silver didn’t rule it out.”
“Nate Silver might also be hoping for a blowjob, but I think he’s overly optimistic,” Finn says.
“I would never give Nate Silver a blowjob, and I hope you would not either,” Puck says, mock-huffing.
“Of course I wouldn’t, but that doesn’t mean he’s hasn’t got somebody who would,” Finn says. “I know we’re not the only people with money and blowjobs riding on this.”
“Texas. You know it’ll be the best blowjob you’ve ever given,” Puck says. “And that’s saying something.”
“Yeah, yeah. Let’s just see what Rachel Maddow has to tell us.”
“Rachel Maddow is all for people who aren’t her getting blowjobs,” Puck says with a grin, settling against Finn’s side again. “There’s Michigan blue, too.”
“Michigan’s not Texas,” Finn says.
“I think we’d both have figured that one, yeah,” Puck says. “So you should just kiss me for Michigan.”
“Yeah,” Finn says, putting his hand on Puck’s face and tilting it up for a kiss.
Puck turns into the kiss, putting his arm across Finn and leaving it there after they pull apart. “Anyone take any bets on the interior states?” he asks after a few minutes. “Montana or Idaho or some place?”
“Gabe had some weird ones in there,” Finn says. “But I’m not sure how much money he actually put on them.”
“Point him out to me at the faculty holiday party,” Puck says.
“Look for the sweatervests.”
Puck laughs. “Seriously?”
“Schue would weep with envy,” Finn says. “Stripes, that kinda plaid design, one with ducks on it. It’s crazy.”
“Ducks?” Puck shakes his head. “No wonder he thought Idaho might go blue.” Rachel Maddow announces the Dakotas and Nebraska, all red, and then as they go to commercial, suggests that they’re about to call a big one. “Maybe it’s Texas,” Puck says. “She looks excited.”
“Hope springs eternal,” Finn says. “Don’t start unzipping your pants yet.”
Puck frowns. “Of course not. I’ll let you do that.” The last commercial ends and Rachel Maddow appears again, and regardless of what Finn says, Puck still thinks she looks somewhat excited.
“With eighty-five percent of the precincts reporting, we are now prepared to call the state of Texas.” She pauses and the graphic starts to appear on screen. “Texas and its thirty-eight electoral votes go to Hillary Clinton.”
Finn slides off the couch to the floor, kneeling in front of Puck, his hands already on Puck’s zipper. “Told you,” Puck says. “Win for everyone.”
Finn nods and grins, then he pulls Puck’s dick out of his jeans, leaning forward to wrap his lips around the head. Puck slides forward, so he’s sitting on the edge of the couch, and he puts his hands on Finn’s head. Rachel Maddow is still talking about Texas in the background as Finn’s mouth moves farther and farther down Puck’s dick, Finn’s hands resting palms-down on Puck’s thighs.
Puck rubs his thumbs across Finn’s forehead and into his hair, holding himself as still as possible and watching Finn. “Yeah, that’s so good,” Puck says, just barely loud enough for Finn to hear over the television. Finn keeps sliding his mouth up and down Puck’s dick, and Puck pays less and less attention to the noise in the room, focusing on watching Finn and not thrusting up hard into Finn’s mouth.
A little quicker than Puck would like, he starts to come, and after Finn moves his mouth, Puck tugs him up to kiss him. As they keep kissing, Puck starts to register that there’s a lot of indistinct cheering on the television.
“What’s going on?” he asks, looking down to fasten his jeans.
“I think they called California,” Finn says. “Holy shit, Puck. I think it’s blue. I think that’s it!”
“They haven’t even called some states!” Puck stares at the screen for a few moments. “We’ve got a new president!” He turns to Finn and laughs. “How much did you just win?”
Finn glances up and his lips move slightly, which is a good sign that he’s doing the math. “Four-hundred-seventy-six, including the pot,” he finally says. “That’s going to be a nice bottle of wine I’m buying you.”
Puck whistles. “Maybe we should put half of our winnings back, ’cause I should be getting around a hundred.”
“Save it for a rainy day,” Finn says, nodding his agreement.
“Watching election results was actually pretty exciting,” Puck says with a grin. “And winning money’s not bad either.”