Authors Note:
So, this is probably the first Glee Fic I've posted ( I have so many of them on file ) but I wrote this just a while go; with some inspiration from the fight I've had with my boyfriend. Took a little time to edit the funny bits, but I think I did good. Don't forget to review!
Loves it.
He knows she's pissed when she bites the inside of her lip and just stares at something other then him. He braces himself for the torrent of words to spill from her mouth or yet the profanities. He did call her a crazy bitch, Noah Puckerman grudgingly recalled, but she seriously wasn't mad that he, you know, sexted Santana?
No, how could she possibly know?
He kept his phone on him at all fucking times. Seriously, he did. He knew girls like her went through absolutely everything, and besides she wasn't giving him any.
And it was just sexting. With Santana, nonetheless.
So yeah, he remembers faintly Dane Cooks advice; when she locks her foot into place, shit is bound to go down.
She hasn't agreed with anything he's said yet, so he thinks that's a good sign until she starts smiling and nodding when he mumbles "You seriously can't be mad at me right now." And this is where he starts to panic because, shit, maybe she does know about the whole thing with that crazy Latino chick.
She waves her hand at him, as if begging him to go on and he breathes in deeply, tries to act unscathed, because really? This chick is 5'4, but he does so not doubt she could kick the shit out of him.
"Look, if this is about what happened the other day—
"You showed your friends a picture of my breasts, Puck."
Oh shit. She's using less words. And she called him by his nickname.
"Well, yeah, I just wanted them to know they couldn't have you and stuff because—
"Because I'm apparently 'Your girl', and may I remind you I find that term repulsive, males speaking about the other gender like we are some sort of property?" she finishes with a small huff.
"Look, babe—
"Do not 'Babe' me, Noah Puckerman."
He narrows his eyes and frowns some at her, scraping his shoe on the auditoriums linen floor.
She won't even let him finish his sentence. And shit, did she just lock her foot into place? And are her hands touching her face? Oh unholy fucking alliance.
"Seriously, though, Ber—Rachel. It was just a picture, of your cleavage, with like, no nipple or anything." He shrugs helplessly.
She nods, still smiling creepily and is it weird he's turned on by that crazy look in her eye?
"Do you have any other pictures of me, Noah?" she asks softly, and he realizes; Shit, this is the calm before the storm.
He gulps.
"Just one…."
"Of?"
He mumbles incoherently.
"Speak up, Puck. I can't hear you clearly enough."
"I have a picture of you… Bent over my truck," he mumbles and he watches as her face goes blank.
She reaches a tiny hand towards him and he flinches like a bitch.
"Phone" she grits out.
And he totally is not shaking when he reaches into his pocket and hands it to her. Her fingers flutter over the keys before he hears the sound of something being deleted—So used to deleting some of Finns messages and that annoying half a second tone—then he hears her take a tiny breath.
She shoves the phone back at him, and she's left whatever made her gasp on the screen. It's a picture of Santana wearing a singlet, panties and that's it, hand between her legs with the text "Miss This?" above it.
He totally forgot to delete that.
"Babe" he utters before she reaches out, slaps him across the face which totally fucking hurts and turns around. She stomps her way down the carpet, mumbling softly.
At the doors of the auditorium, her tiny hand opens it just an inch and he can hear the thunder of people talking and watches as people outside walk past, she turns and he can see rather then hear the words clearly besides the ringing in his ears and the roaring of the voices outside. It's barely audible, but he can still read her lips.
"I'm telling your mother, Noah Puckerman." And then she's gone and he's swearing profusely.
Dane Cook did not prepare him for that.