'sup? since i'm probably not ever going to get quinn and puck back on glee itself (i love you so much ryan murphy like thank you so incredibly much for friendzoning quick) here is another multi-chaptered story about those two lovely fictional characters.

this one is based on the movie 'mon pire cauchemar' and no, i'm not being a douchebag i actually watch french movies.

hopefully quinn and puck are in character but quinn is and always will be one of the hardest character for me to write so psych! also, i wanted to use glee characters only and no i do not ship will and quinn because that's dirty but i suck at oc so.. try to think of it as humor?

dedicated to all the quick shippers out there, y'all are amazing!

title comes from come and get it by my favorite lady on the entire planet selena gomez and the chapter title is from don't you want me by human league.

x

chapter one: you know i don't believe you

These idiots honestly can't do anything right. The twenty-seven year old Quinn Fabray sighs as she rips up another ten-year-plan by one her assistants before running a hand through her blonde locks.

"Fix this!" She throws the ripped up paper into a trashcan as she yells at her assistant, Kurt, through the window separating her office from the rest of the art department.

"Yes, Ms. Fabray," Kurt gulps as he frantically starts typing on his computer and when she picks up her phone to call home and check on her family she hears him complain about her yet again. They call her a bitch behind her back, thinking she doesn't know.

They don't understand - when she's too nice they don't get anything done and when she's too mean - they all hate her but at least she doesn't lose her job. Well, she hasn't yet anyway, unless he, along with all of her other employees, keep up the extremely good work.

There's no way in between too nice or too mean, she's figured that out over the past few years working as the art director off a high profile art museum in New York City.

She doesn't mind they call her names and that they loathe her, she knows a common enemy stimulates unity and teamwork which ultimately favors her because they do their job and she gets to do hers. And she's good at that, doing her job, the absolute best - but she can't help but think he didn't go through four years of freaking Yale for this.

x

"Shit," she mutters as she drops her keys on the ground next to her car. She's already later than late to a parent meeting at her son's school and honestly couldn't Kurt just have handled calling up the natural history museum to ask about an upcoming transfer himself? A high school dropout would've been able to do that.

She quickly picks them up and throws them in her bag, scrambling in the huge accessory for her phone, cursing to herself when she reaches the classroom and she still doesn't have it. This is exactly why she prefers utility over fashion.

She tries to fix her hair, sweeping it up in a bun and straighten her pencil skirt before knocking on the classroom and entering it. The teacher interrupts his rant about the upcoming intelligence test for a moment to welcome her in a sweet but obviously annoyed 'miss Fabray' before he continues. She gets a few stares but ignores them as she sits down on a table in the back.

Most of the mothers here are stay-at-home moms, which is fine, and she doesn't judge them but they do judge her. On one of these things a few years back she got called out on being a bad mother because she didn't fulfill her primary task - taking care of her kid and cooking dinner for him and making sure his clothes were washed. They set the feminist movement back about five hundred years with that one.

She set them straight though, told them she prefered meaning something to society rather than sitting at home doing nothing when her kid was at school.

The teacher, Mrs. Hudson, she thinks it was, talks rapidly and eloquent but Quinn manages to get a few words in between there after about five minutes.

"I think these children are much too young to be tested on intelligence and to make a choice on what they want to be in ten years. They're just eight years old. They're busy with playing around not with if they prefer a career in health or science or fashion."

"You have to understand it's just a test run, Ms. Fabray, if in a few years it turns out that we're not getting the results we're aiming for -" Mrs. Hudson straightens her back and gets up from the desk. She's smaller than Quinn remembers, dumber, too. She must've went along with the board because from the way she's speaking Quinn knows she's not a hundred percent behind what she's saying.

"But what Rich my son get from that? He'll have wasted three, four years in a direction that might fit his brain best but not his heart. It'll be too late for him to -"

"Why don't we get to what's really important here?" A guy in the front speaks up and she can't get a good look at him from her seat in the back. "The food in the cafeteria. I hear my kid is being served bacon. I'm all for it but I think my mom would probably come back from the dead to pull my ass to the depths of hell with her. We're Jews, you know."

A few people laugh and she sighs frustratingly, "I think we need to address the test right now, not -" and she's being ignored completely. And bacon was amazing and delicious and definitely her absolute favorite dish but it was definitely not a priority right now. (Especially not when he wanted it gone)

She tries to get a better look at him by moving her upper body into different direction but no luck until Mrs. Cohen Chang decides to move her head to the right at the same time as Mrs. Jones. It's then she notices it's not just someone, it's Noah Puckerman. God, she hates him. One time he brought his son to school in limousine he obviously couldn't afford so there was only two possibilities. One, he got an actual job or two, he decided to get some of special illegal work done right before bringing his son to school. She's betting on the latter. He's awful.

"Maybe we could talk about the food here in private, Mrs. Hudson."

Exhibit A.

He winks at Mrs. Hudson and she blushes furiously, glaring at him as she ignores his advances and goes onto the next topic - gym clothes.

Great, he not only completely wasted her opportunity to talk about the one important thing that's going on at this school, he managed to disgust her even more when it comes to him.

x

She comes home, more than tired, and slips off her heels along with her coat, ready to take a nice, long warm bath. She takes out the clip in her hair and runs a hand through her through it when she hears laughter from her son's room.

"Nicholas, have you finished your homework?" She opens the door slightly and she doesn't want to be the bad guy here, not really, but she just wants him to be the best he can be. And that means making his homework and studying.

"Yes, mom," he rolls his eyes as he slightly moves his controller to the right, not taking his eyes of the screen, "And it's Nick."

Quinn sighs, opening the door further as she spots a boy about his age sitting next to him on the bed. She immediately softens, not wanting to embarrass her own son in front of his friends, "Oh, hey. I'm Mrs. Fabray but you can me Quinn if you like."

He smiles a little, getting up from the bed and sticking out his hand, "I'm Jackson Puckerman, nice to meet you, ma'am."

She slightly narrows her eyes - Puckerman. Does that damn man need to follow her everywhere she goes? Then she realizes his manners (and her own) and shakes his hand. "Nice to meet you, too, Jackson."

Maybe it's not the same Puckerman family line, because let's be honest the man himself doesn't even know how to spell polite, let alone raise his son to be just that.

She looks at the screen and frowns, "What exactly is the purpose of this, Nicho- Nick?"

"You need to shoot as many zombies as you can, mom," he replies like she should already know the answer, the tip of his tongue sticking out of his mouth as he moves his body to the left.

"Do you, do you like playing video games, too?" She asks the other small boy in the room, hesitantly as she licks her lips.

"Yes, I think you can learn quite a few things from them. An example is coordination and perhaps endurance."

"Okay."

She laughs, almost snorts to herself as she leaves the room. Right, no way in hell that's Puckerman's son.

x

"Did you call the contractor yet?" She asks her boyfriend, Richard, as she walks through a hole in the wall. There's literally a hole in the wall, from the kitchen to their bedroom, and there are quite a few more spread over their entire apartment. Their apartment was a mess and this was already their second contractor, none of them able to give her exactly what she wants.

He doesn't look up from his magazine as he takes a sip from his coffee. "I did. He said that as long as you can't let his employees do his job than he can't come back and I'm putting this very nicely."

"Look, all I'm asking is that when he drills, he does it right so there isn't dust all over the place when I come home," she retorts, pulling her dress over her head and putting her bathrobe on.

"You almost stabbed one of them with the drill because you wanted to show him how to do it properly."

"I was this close to actually stabbing him," she bites back, hanging her dress on the door, ready to go to the drycleaner.

"He won't come back, Quinn," he tells her, taking off his reading glasses and rubbing his eyes, still not seeming very interested in whatever she has to say and she sighs.

"So, call a new one."

"I called three more, apparently you're already known in the carpenter business."

She huffs as she decides not to continue this conversation right now. She's too tired, too stressed and too fed up with this day already. All she needs is a nice, relaxing bath.

x

She's just about to lower herself in the tub when the door rings and from the sound of classical music Richard is having another one of his private session (she's learned that's code for jacking off on their room as he stares at much younger girls than her) so he's not responding anytime soon and she can't really expect for Nicholas to ever help her out, so with a sigh she slips back into her bathrobe and walks towards the front door.

It's like God hates her because it's none other than Noah Puckerman. Fabulous.

"Looking good, Fabray, got a hot date?" He smirks and she quickly tightens the robe around herself. Damn Puckerman.

"What are you doing here?" She snaps and he lets out a small laugh.

"I'm here to pick up my son, Jack?" He gives her a funny look, like she should've at least figured out by now that it is, in fact his son.

"Are you sure?"

"Am I sure that what?" He raises an eyebrow as his smirk fades a little.

"He's, he's your son," she stammers and she feels kind of stupid, of course it's his son. Why else would he be here? They have the same last name for God's sake.

"Positive," he replies as he pushes past her and into the apartment. "If you don't mind I'm just charging my phone for a sec," he informs her already taking out his charger and phone and plugging it into the nearest outlet before screaming, "Jackson!"

"Wait, you're coming in?" She stumbles on her words as she follows him quickly and he turns around and gives her an incredulous look, "Well, you can throw him out of the fucking window so I can catch him outside but that wouldn't be safe, huh?"

"Jackson," he screams again and she gives in, the sooner he gets Jackson the faster he's gone.

"What's going on here?" Richard comes out of their bedroom, putting a hand on her back and she gives him a stern look (all the while hoping he washed his hands), "Nothing. Mr. Puckerman is just here to pick up his son."

"You can call me Puck, Fabray." He winks (and she resists the urge to punch that damn eye shut forever) and as on cue Nicholas and Jackson join them and Puck smirks, straightening his broad shoulders, "Kids are here, grandpa's here - looks like fucking Christmas already."

"Nicholas is my son," Richard corrects him with a small, polite laugh and Quinn simply glares at him. "He's only fifty-eight."

Noah, or Puck, whatever, snorts (as if to say she's insane) before running a hand over Jackson's head, lowering himself, "How're you, little dude?"

"I'm fine, dad," he smiles up at his father, his eyes twinkling and Quinn almost feels sorry for the kid. With a father like that.. In and out prison, only there when he wants to be - a smart boy like Jackson definitely deserves better.

The devil himself knocks on the nearest wall, and they all hear the hollow sound it produces, "This thing is kind of unstable. Who the hell is taking care of this shit? It's fucking dangerous, man."

"Our contractor has been.. away for a while," Richard retorts, clearing his throat as he shoots Quinn a small glance before looking back up at Puck, "You want something to drink?"

"I'd love to man, but my friend is on the hallway and I can't really leave her -"

"How rude of us!" Richard exclaims, already walking over to the door.

"You don't have to -" Quinn and Puck say at the same time, sharing a quick look before she idly crosses her arms and decides to just give in. If Richard wanted to bring in Noah's friend - that wasn't her problem. She was taking her damn bath and she was taking it right now.

Richard opens the door, revealing a small brunette with less clothes to shed than newborn baby. Richard eyes widen as he stammers, "Oh, hello there. Come in, please."

The brunette takes inhales one last time before throwing her cigarette on the floor and stamping down on it. Quinn makes a mental note to buy new floorboards tomorrow.

"Richard, Quinn, this is Sandra," Puck smirks as he puts his arm around the tiny woman and pulls her into his chest.

"It's Sugar, actually," the brunette, Sugar, cackles as she pops her bubblegum.

"Well, would you like something to drink? Coffee?" Richard offers again and Quinn rolls her eyes. No, she's not going to do this. She's not going to be friendly and pretend to be interested in them while Noah and Sugar slowly make their way through their entire liquor cabinet.

"Sure, I'll have some whiskey, not the cheap kind, I can taste the difference," he tells the older man (who laughs in response and honestly? She was considering putting them both outside) before turning to his girlfriend and whispering something in her ear, making her giggle.

Quinn scrunches her nose, disgusted as Nicholas pulls on her bathrobe.

"Mom, can Jackson stay over?" Quinn helplessly looks at Richard but he doesn't seem to get the hint and gives his approval - she looks over at Noah who seems more than happy to have a night by himself (or rather with Sugar).

"If it's alright with Fabray, sure, buddy."

Quinn looks over at Jackson and then at Noah and his little prostitute before realizing that she really can't traumatize the eight year old any further.

"Of course, Jackson. Nick can you grab him some pajamas?"

x

"What do you want, Mr. Puckerman?" The chick, Berry or Hudson or whatever her name is now, tells him as she practically runs away from him on those high heels of her.

"Look, I got another letter from social services and I just want them to back off so could you -"

"What could I possibly have to do with that, Mr. Puckerman?" She says firmly and he almost rolls his eyes because come on, does she honestly think he's that stupid?

"I know it was you and look, I know me and my son had to sleep in my van for a period of time but do you know how hard it is to get a job in this economy? It's not like I wanted to sleep in a fucking van, I mean have you ever tried to? It's not really comfortable plus it's not a real turn on for the ladies," he chuckles but quickly stops when she glares at him.

"You have given me no evidence that the situation has improved and when social services come to ask for my opinion on the matter, I'm not going to lie," she tells him sternly as she stops walking and takes the letter from him, sighing, "I'm an honest person, Mr. Puckerman, so if you want them to, as you so kindly said, 'back off'," she gives him a look, "Show me that the situation has improved. That you can offer Jackson a stable home. He deserves that."

Puck nods his head, running a hand through his mohawk as she takes another look at the letter, looking up at him with a sad, sympathetic look. "I know this hard, Mr. Puckerman, but you might want to consider if you're really what's best for your son."

He smirks at her, reaching out to touch her cheek softly, "If you have somewhere more private we could go, I can show you something else that's hard."

"You are aware that I'm married, right?" She scrunches up her nose, flashing him the giant rock around her left ring finger and his smirks grows, "What he doesn't know won't hurt him."

She scoffs, pushing the letter back into his hands before storming off and honestly, her back looks much better than her frontal view anyway. Her ass is heaven compared to her boobs.

As he walks back to the courtyard to pick up his kid he spots that old dude, what's his name again? Rick or Rich.. Richard! Right, Richard walking with his son and Jackson. He walks over to them and nods at him.

"'Sup?"

"I'm fine, thank you," Richard replies as he smiles tightly. Puck smiles at his son, ruffling his hair as his bumps a fist with him.

"Dad, can Jackson come to soccer practice with me?" The other, tiny bro says and Puck shakes his head as Jackson asks him, "Yeah, please, dad, can I?"

"No, sorry, we've bothered this old fella enough," he chuckles as he pats Richard on the back. Richard shrugs a little, probably trying to be polite, "It's okay. We could get something to drink while they play."

"Fine with me, we live a block away from here - we can just get his shit and go," Puck informs him as he leads them to his apartment.

They walk up to a small, old hotel and Puck opens the door to an equally small room, Jackson already running off with Nick to grab his clothes, "I know this is about as big as your shithouse but it's enough for the two of us."

"It's.. nice," Richard tries with a small smile as he looks around. They hear a lot of banging on the walls and loud metal music from downstairs and there are some people screaming outside on the street but Richard really didn't expect anything less from the kind of neighborhood they apparently live in.

"I used to do the manager lady and she lets me stay here for with a discount," he tells Richard as opens up a cupboard and pulls out a old twinkie. "You hungry?" Richard shakes his head in distaste as Puck shrugs and eats one, "Suit yourself. Jackson, don't forget your shoes!"

"I've been looking for an apartment but they're not easy to find, especially not when you make what I make."

Richard nods his head in understanding as he carefully leans back against the wall. He checks his watch, "We really need to get going."

Puck nods his head this time, "Jackson! Nick! Quit making out and get back here!"

x

"So what do you do?" Puck asks him as he takes a sip from his beer. Best beer he's ever had in his opinion. Then again, he could never really afford this kind, the expensive kind.

"I'm a publicist, I publish books," Richard tells him as he runs a hand over his grey hair and smiles at him, taking a sip of his espresso. They're sitting at the bar at Nick's high profile soccer club and Puck's impressed, the rich must think soccer's super important.

"So you're a writer?" Puck cocks an eyebrow and Richard shakes his head, "No, no, writers send me their books and my employees read them and when they're good - I publish them."

"So.." Puck concludes again, "You get paid big bucks to let other people do the work?"

Richard laughs at this, takes a white card out of his jacket and places it on the bar. "Maybe. But I do get my own business card."

"Fancy," Puck replies as he looks at the card, "Schuester? You're not married to Fabray? Or is she too stuck up to take on your name?"

"No, no, we're not married. She used to be my student at Yale and it was kind of messy when she got pregnant so we never really did."

"Well, you're a smart dude, marriage is for suckers," Puck orders another beer, "You totally dodged a bullet there."

Richard nods his head as takes a sip of his coffee and Puck smirks, "So thanks for the other night by the way. Best lay of my life."

"Oh, so you and that..." Richard's eyes light up in excitement as he pictures the brunette from a few nights ago.

"Yeah, totally, dude. Her boobs were awesome and she was super cheap. You ever been with a whore?"

Richard almost chokes on his coffee as he shakes his head, coloring red.

"You don't know what you're missing, Jack Nicholson!"

Richard chuckles as he looks at his watch, "Well, practice's almost over, we should go."

"Of course," Puck replies as he starts petting his pockets, "Do you happen to have a five?"

"Sure," Richard tells him as he pulls out a five dollar bill and puts it down on the bar, already walking towards the soccer fields outside. Puck shrugs and takes the five and stuffs in his pocket before following Richard.

These people honestly weren't going to miss five dollars when their toilets were made out of fucking gold.

x

He's meeting with another one of those social workers, who's helping him find an apartment and this time it's a foxy redheaded one.

"Have you tried finding another job besides working as..." Her voice trails off as she looks at the long list beside her, "Actor, professional gambler and..." She frowns, before looking up at him, "Naked model?"

"I couldn't do it. They wanted me to give up my waffles - no way I was doing that," he chuckles as he checks the clock behind her, "So, you found me another apartment or what?"

"I'm sorry, but we haven't yet."

"How do they expect me to take care of my son in this economy? I can't get a normal job, I can't get a normal apartment - "

The redhead raises her eyebrows as she starts cleaning her keyboard with a wet towel, the ones he used to use to wipe his son's ass which is totally weird, before looking back at him, offering, "I could write a letter in which I state you've been looking extremely hard for an apartment so they won't think you've been sitting around."

He nods his head (because in spite of what anyone else thinks he loves Jackson and he wants the best for him and he doesn't want to lose him) as she starts typing, using just her pointer fingers.

"You type very.. erotic," he flirts and she looks up at him, stopping her current actions and she slowly pushes a pamphlet his way.

So you're trying to make up for your small penis by acting like a stud

He sighs, leaning back on his chair as she starts typing again. "I forgot my charms don't work on women with IQ's above 80."

x

"Richard!" Quinn yells frantically as she walks in on Noah, shirtless, working on fixing her toilet. "Why is there a half naked criminal in my bathroom?"

"Wow, you don't hesitate to pass judgement, do you, MILF?" Puck chuckles as he pulls a white wifebeater over his head.

"Richard!" Her voice almost wavers and Richard finally appears.

"What's wrong, Quinn?"

"Why the hell is he here?" She points a finger at Puck and Richard shrugs idly, "Jackson was over and he came to pick it up when I let it slip the toilet still wasn't working. He said he could fix it so I let him. I hate going over to the neighbours asking them if I could please do the number two, Quinn."

"Would you like some wine?" Richard offers Quinn as a peace offering as he pops open one of his oldest and most expensive ones.

"Thanks," Puck says, sticking his nose in the glass and sniffing loudly before gulping the entire content of the glass down his throat.

"Well, if I do the rest," Puck starts talking again, pouring himself another glass, "It looks like it's going to take about five weeks."

"Five weeks?!" Quinn repeats loudly, already shaking her head no. No freaking way.

"Just five weeks?" Richard ponders and Quinn can't believe he's even considering it! They're probably going to come home one day to find him dead because of an overdose or to find him gone while taking all of their belongings or worse - they're going to find him in the middle of a quickie! No freaking way. Over her dead body.

Richard's eyes light up as he reaches out to shake Puck's hand, "Sounds good to me!"

That's it. She's moving out or permanently locking herself in the closet. She feels like a damn teenager being told what to do by her father! Nope. Nein. Non. Nej. Nie. Naõ. Nee. No!

This was outrageous and there was no way he was going to working in her home, being payed with her money, making these five weeks of her life miserable - not until the day hell freezes over.

x

thanks so much for reading this and a review would absolutely be the best thing you could ever do for me!