thanks for reading this! a review would honestly mean the world :)
it's not beta'd, so sorry for that but i tried to read it over once or twice so i hope there's not too many mistakes.
title is from let me love it out you by tim mcgraw.
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chapter two: i know you're angry inside
She's absolutely, completely, a hundred percent done with Noah Puckerman.
He's everywhere, anywhere, all the time. She thinks she's going nuts.
He's only been here for three days and he's started doing about fifty things to her house (forty-nine of which she didn't ask for) left half of them unfinished and went to do another fifty things and his stuff is everywhere, it even smells like him in their apartment. (Okay, so he does smell nice - all manly and musky and sweaty but that's not the point!)
Currently, she's listening to him blaring eighties rock through the speakers and to be honest she'd rather be clawing out her own eardrums right now. She bangs on the wall for the fifth time, still no answer. Sighing frustratingly, she blows her hair out of her face before fastening it in a ponytail and stalking over there, after slipping into the nearest skirt, which happens to be a short one but it's not like she did it intently.
His eyes checking her out like she was cast in some low-key indie porno however, were intently, (To be honest, it did feel good to be finally be looked at like a woman again not the mother of my child or head bitch in charge Quinn Fabray but then again he was a horn dog so the fact she had boobs and breathed was probably enough to get him going) and very, very obvious. She quickly tries covering herself up at least a little as she tries not to stare at his toned abs.
Another annoying habit of Noah Puckerman besides blaring music through the entire apartment from seven in the morning till ten in the evening, he liked to work shirtless.
I would do anything for love from Meatloaf is playing and she actually secretly really loves that song but no way in hell she's going to admit that, ever. Not when she wants him to shut it off.
"How long is this going to take?"
He smirks a little, finally tearing his eyes away from her legs, puts down the sandpaper in his hands as he shrugs, "One, two hours tops."
"No," she clarifies sternly, "This entire thing. Frankly, I've been getting less attentive at work because I can't get enough sleep."
"You thinkin' about me, Fabray?" He asks, amused as he picks up his paintbrush and applies some on the wall before picking the sandpaper back up.
"No," she repeats herself, praying to dear God she's not blushing because if she is, her own body is betraying her. She does not blush because slightly attractive hobos compliment her. "Your continued music prevails of that."
"So if there were no music, you would?" He sounds so pleased with himself she wants to pick up that bucket of paint and empty it above his head. He turns his head slightly, glancing over at her.
She purses her lips and crosses her arms, "Puckerman, how much longer is this going to go on?"
"Four, five weeks, maybe longer if you continue wearing those skirts," he offers and he does turn around this time, and raises an eyebrow and she just wants to take his head and slam it into the wall because she hates him that much.
"Well," she clears her throat, her voice not wavering because she makes sure to never, ever appear to be weak in front of him, "I don't think my husband would be so pleased to hear that."
"Why don't you? I mean, you have had countless fucking reasons, I have to admit that sometimes I can be a little inappropriate," he raises an eyebrows and damn, the idiot can self reflect, "But you haven't told him."
"Yet," she adds angrily, knowing he's challenging her (he's trying to imply she likes his comments but oh man, he's dead wrong about that) before stalking over to him and for a second she sees something along the lines of hope flash in front of his eyes. She smirks, leaning closer, before slamming her hand down on his radio's off-button. "Goodnight, Noah."
Later when she's lying down in bed with a smile on her face, finally able to get some sleep, she hears him sing loudly to himself - the sandpaper making excruciatingly scratchy noises. She groans into the pillow, swearing she's going to kill him in the morning.
x
To her surprise, Noah has been quite... quiet for a few days. After their ego-off the other night he hasn't done anything exceptionally annoying.
That is until she opens the toilet and actually finds him on there, doing something, and she screams so loudly and he echoes her just as loud, if not louder. She thinks her neighbours might really call the police this time. This is so unprofessional, she can't even cope with it - so she slams the door in his face. That's like her going to a client's house and while he's looking at paintings, deciding to take a massive you know, in his toilet.
"You should've knocked, Fabray!"
x
Finally, she's able to escape the epitome of a tumor called Noah Puckerman while taking a relaxing warm shower. Seriously, he's been here for almost two weeks and she hasn't had a single moment to herself.
Either Nick needs help with his homework and she's the one to come to since she went to Yale and is always blabbing on about college or Richard wants her to help with another rejection letter because he can't think of enough ways to say no without sounding like a cliché douchebag or Noah Puckerman is all up in her grill with his tendencies to make a lot of freaking noise.
Jackson is adorable and smart and so well-mannered though and sometimes she finds herself wondering how great he could be if Noah would just dial it down a little. Since he's been hanging around with Nick, his grades have improved from C- to A's - which is literally a miracle because she's been trying for years to get him to make his homework and study.
Just as she's drifting off into happy thoughts - like how she accomplished another deal with the louvre today, or how Nick made her a drawing today since the first time he was three - a piece of the wall falls down right next to her feet, creating a huge hole on face-level. She screams as she looks up into the hole to find Puck's face.
"Seriously?" She screams, scrunching up her nose, ready to flick his face through the hole.
"Sorry, sweetheart," he says, shrugging half-heartedly with a smirk and she leans forward, making sure the wall covers her body, taking the spray shower and aiming it at his face.
"It seems like I am going to have to train you like a little baby kitten, Puckerman!"
x
"So, Rich, can I call you Rich?" Puck doesn't wait for an answer as he looks at the older man, "Can I store my stuff somewhere? The Lady has been complaining about my hammer and shit laying around kids." He rolls his eyes as he nods towards the small blonde woman reading a book on the couch. (He ignores the fact he thinks she looks really pretty with glasses - all sophisticated and smart and shit.)
"Yes, sure," Richard offers him as he rubs the back of his neck tiredly, "I can give you the key to the maid's room, she lives above us."
"She has her own place to live? That's sweet," he answers as he patiently waits for Rich to hand him the keys, stuffing them in his jeans pockets. Richard lowers his voice as he gets up from his seat and walks over to Puck.
"So, I was talking with Quinn earlier and I have come to the conclusion that it honestly would just be better if you got here after she leaves and left before she was back. She has stress spots all over her face," Richard pats him on the back as he leads him into the kitchen and out of Quinn's earshot.
Puck winces, commenting, "Ouch, that's not pretty," before he snickers, "So Lady Fabray really has your balls on a tight leash, doesn't she?"
Richard's eyes widen as looks over at Puck, who only laughs at his response. "I bet her frustration and anger works out for you in the bedroom, right? I bet the ice queen's a real fucking animal."
With this remark, Richard only blankly stares at him, blinking a few times as Puck responds with an "Oh.."
and then an "Oh!" as he grimaces. "So she's a real bore in the sack, too?"
Richard sighs as he rubs a hand over his face, "It was fine before we got Nicholas, something about the whole student-professor thing made her feel powerful but after we had him - it went from three times a day to nothing."
"Nothing?" Puck repeats so loudly with his eyebrows raised that Quinn even asks what's going on.
"Nothing, honey!" Richard replies in a sugary sweet voice before lowering it again, "Yes, I know, but I'm fine with it. I mean we have Nick and she has her job and I have mine and at the end of the day, I'm just, you know, tired."
Puck raises his eyebrows in understanding, "They have pills for that, you know."
Rich shakes his head, "No, it's not that. I guess," he sighs, "I guess, I'm not as attracted as I was to her before we got Nicholas."
Puck's eyes widen as he looks over at the hella hot lady in the livingroom, currently moving her head to the beat off whatever song is playing on her iPhone, mouthing the words as she flips another page of her book. He can't really stand her but to say she's not attractive? She's fine as hell.
"You're not attracted..." He points his thumb towards said blonde, "That? Has your old-age caused you to go blind or maybe gay?"
Richard sighs, almost ashamed to admit it as he says, "I don't know, okay? She's attractive but, not sexually, not anymore. She used to make an effort to dress up for me to do her hair and make-up and to make sure that what she dressed was exactly what I liked and now.. It just feels like we're strangers. She wears sweatpants on Saturday's instead making me go crazy ."
"Listen, that one, over there, could look hot in a fucking trash bag, so maybe it's not her, and it's not you, maybe it's you together," Puck offers, licking his lips before adding, "Have you ever tried a new lady? Maybe you just grew tired of Fabray, or something, I dunno."
Honestly, he has no radical explanation because one, he's never been with someone as long as them nor as long as he's been with Jackson's mom which was like eleven months, two, the only explanations he does have is blindness or gayness - and he offered those already.
"I'm a faithful man, Puck," Rich replied sternly
"That's what they all say until they're not," Puck tells him genuinely and he means it, because never in his life has he met a person that was either worth fighting for or worth staying with for longer than forty-eight hours. Love was bullshit and if it did exist, love was also temporary.
He learned that much in his twenty-seven years of shitty existence.
x
"Come on, didn't some old man die in the meantime?" Puck frowns as he leans forward on his chair. Emma shakes her red hair as she continues typing on her computer.
"I'm sorry, Mr. Puckerman, there are no apartments available yet."
"Well shit," he sighs leaning back in his chair and running a hand over his mohawk. "Look, you don't just let a baby chicken run around a kitchen, right? The guarddog is bound to eat him."
"Mr. Puckerman, comparing your son to a chicken really isn't appropriate when in a social worker's office," Emma smiles tightly and he frowns again.
"No, no, he's the guarddog."
"Comparing him to an animal by default is something you really shouldn't do," Emma lets out a small laugh as she shoves another pamphlet towards him.
Don't be such a douchebag: how to overcome the obstacle of your personality, includes a guide on being a mediocre dad
He chuckles a little before looking up at Emma, making it extra smoldering, "So, how about that drink?"
x
"Oh, no, I totally love my job, helping people is kind of my thing, you see," she tells him as her plastic gloved hands roughly wipe the rim of the glass of water in front of her, her activity for over half an hour now. "I love giving parents advice and see them actually taking it on."
After the first twenty minutes his expression had changed from faking a smile for the sake of getting into her pants into okay, I think she's one of those crazy cat ladies and since a minute or so his expression was more I am so fucking done she is totally craycray. He was positive woman like her inspire the smiths and gun 'n roses songs like unhappy birthday and used to love her - if not serial killers. This was kind of not really his kind of woman.
"That's cool," he answers as she finally puts the wipe down and carefully takes a sip, before taking out a clean wipe and starting to clean the glass again, claiming the bacteria in the air have already gotten to it.
He's about to either pull all of his hair out or make up an excuse about having to pick up his son when Schuester suddenly appears next to their table.
"Rich!" Puck cries out happily, she was nice and all but clinically insane. "This is Emma, Emma, this is Rich. I totally just remembered I need to get.. my.. hair.. dyed," he stammers not so smoothly before sending her an apologetic look.
He pats Richard on the chest, shoving him the direction of his chair, before hurriedly and quietly blurting out, "She's all yours, not really my type, kind of loco," and stalking off.
"Hi, I'm Richard."
"Emma Pillsbury."
Surely he was doing Richard a favor, because he definitely needed to get laid after what, seven years? And really, after seven years, it didn't matter what kind of woman it was. Even totally AC/DC (or OCDC or OCD or whatever) would do.
x
"What are you watching?" Quinn asks her son as she runs a hand over his head before placing a kiss on it and squeezing Jackson's shoulder. She smiles at her maid Santana who's engrossed with the video also, so she looks over at it. Snoop dog or whatever, is blasting through the speakers and honestly, what did she expect?
"Just a music video," he answers without skipping a beat and Quinn frowns as she tilts her head. "Is that girl.. Oh my God - you're eight!"
"It's okay, mom," Nick sighs tiredly as he nudges Jackson, "It's Jackson's favorite music video and he's super smart so."
She hears the maid snicker (Quinn should've known she had a thing for half naked girls or just girls entirely) and Quinn glares at her, "You let them watch this?"
"I clean, not babysit, stretchmarks," Santana flicks her ponytail over her shoulder before taking her broom and leaving the room.
"Bitch," Quinn mutters quietly to herself before sighing and looking back at the screen.
"'Sup?" She hears Puck's voice and Santana say a little too sultry 'hi' back. She turns her head to find him in his underwear only and she swears on her almighty infamous slaps that he's practically living here.
"Do you always walk around in your underwear?" She snaps as she turns her back to the kids and looks at him.
"Why would you rather I not wear it at all?" He smirks and ugh, okay? She just really doesn't like him.
She steps closer to him and closes the door of the study behind her, sternly whispering, "Do you walk around like this at all your clients' houses or just at mine?"
He steps closer to her, too, "So," he licks his lips slowly, "You want me to take it off, Fabray?"
"I-I don't," she stammers as she leans back against the door, her heart beating rapidly, "I want you to put on more."
"Do you really?" He whispers, stepping even closer, his warm breath hitting her face. Up close he looks much more innocent, his eyelashes fluttering on his cheeks as he looks down at her and the warmth of his body radiating over to hers. And he looks so, so good - but she reminds herself she hates him so she pushes him away.
She licks her dry lips, not reelzing she was this hydrated, "How much longer do I have to suffer through this, Puck? A real answer this time, please."
"I got you begging already," he smirks as he reaches out to brush the side of her face with his hand and even worse - she lets him.
"Answer me," she whispers harshly, her throat dry - she can't risk the kids overhearing - they might draw very, very wrong conclusions.
"If I go over to IKEA to get some closets, I could be done in a week - otherwise it's going to take at least another month."
"What's the catch?"
"Well, you would need to go with me. I mean, IKEA has so many options."
"I don't think so - God blessed you with vision, you can pick out a closet yourself."
"Come on, Fabray," he teases, pressing his hips against hers and she frowns, pushing him away again. He blinks a few times and God, she hates how he makes her skin tingle. "One more week, and I'll be gone. Isn't that tempting?"
"Fine."
"Fine?"
"Fine, I'll go with you to that stupid IKEA, if it means I'll be rid of you."
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to be continued! again, a review would be so so amazing i'd probably burst into tears of joy on the inside, ya feel me?
