Before the entire mishap of being kidnapped, forced away from his life, and turned into a sex slave, Blaine had dreams, and aspirations. Some were greater than others. While Blaine no longer desired being on Broadway, he had still had many thoughts about college, and what being in college was supposed to mean. Frat parties, doing stupid things, just.. living out of order. While Blaine was Puck’s the mere idea of that was almost laughable. They’d gone to a couple of parties, sure, but the last time they’d really gone out, they ended up fighting. Blaine wasn’t good with a lot of alcohol in his system. He either became obnoxiously horny, or belligerent. Only one of which was good, and even then that was a conditional ‘good.’ Blaine had lied, telling his Master that he had to go to a study group after class for a project. Which… wasn’t a total lie. He’d known he wouldn’t have allowed him to go to a party by himself, but Blaine just wanted to live for a couple hours. He didn’t want to be watched while he drank, constantly worrying about saying something wrong. He knew Puck would find out, but he’d decided to deal with the consequences later.
In result, Blaine had gotten drunk. The guys he’d gotten close to in class threw a huge party, and Blaine had been involved in plenty of alcohol. He’d almost done body shots off another guy, but thoughts of his Master back at home kept him from doing so. Though, the other guy was admittedly attractive as well. After some persuasion, Blaine and a couple of his friends had decided to walk off some of the alcohol. By walking off, Blaine was leaning against the two of them because walking wasn’t really a great option for him. They were obviously loud, obnoxious, singing in the streets about drinking and sex, things that would obviously bother anybody in the neighborhood around the college. Had Blaine been sober, he wouldn’t have been surprised that someone called the cops. But he hadn’t been sober, and neither had his friends.
So, singing to the officers that confronted them seemed the best way to handle things. Blaine had even gone as far as to make sexual innuendos as the officer frisked him, and with an affirmative look at his ID, Blaine found himself in the back of a cop car. Something about disrupting the peace and underage drinking. Whatever, Blaine knew everyone did it, and Puck would come get him. All the while, Blaine took it as a joke. He’d spent most of getting processed laughing and trying to hold everybody’s hand, and when it got time for his phone call, an officer had to dial the number for him. The phone rang in his ear and he couldn’t help but 'riiing’ along with it, which earned an amused and slightly irritated look from the officer. He’d clearly never indulged. What a loser.
The moment Puck’s voice was on the line, he let out a shout of happiness, one that gave him plentiful dirty looks around the area, and a warning from the officer. “Grumpypants.” He murmured, rolling his eyes and holding the phone close to his ear. “Puck! Hi! Yer so wunnndahful.” He slurred, not too sure if his words sounded coherent, or like a giant blur. And honestly? He didn’t give a crap. He was too happy to let dialect ruin his thoughts.