A/N: Welcome to Chapter 4! Thanks to everyone who has read the first three chapters and to everyone who reviewed as well! The encouragement is appreciated. This chapter actually has a reference to one of my other stories, "Cold Outside", and I think I decided that I am just going to leave that one as a two shot and keep going with this one since they both pretty much have the same end goal (and honestly it was getting hard for me to keep the storylines straight/separate!). Thanks for reading and I hope you enjoy this chapter! Xoxo-Katie

Disclaimer: I don't own glee

They've become masters at being quiet. Most of the time he slips through her window, onto her bed and into her arms without a single word passing between the two of them. Then there are the times they just can't help it. He find just the right spot or she rolls her hips in the most perfect way and they're both certain that her mother will burst through the door at any moment and they'll be found out. The funny thing is that it never makes them stop or keeps them from doing it all over again a few nights later. In fact, she's almost sure that sometimes, he wants to get caught and she's not so sure that she doesn't.

She thinks her mom would have to be an idiot to not know there was at least a spark between them again, except it isn't a spark at all, it's a full-fledged wildfire. On Christmas Eve, when she returned from mass to find him waiting for her, they had laughed at the stunned look on her mom's face when she came down the stairs and saw him earlier, the Jewish boy who knocked up her daughter, standing there with a tiny Christmas tree in his hands.

"Noah, what are you doing here?" she had questioned.

"Quinn left this at my house last year and I thought she might like it back," she replied honestly. He wanted to add, and it would be a bitch to carry up the trellis, but controlled his urge.

"Well, umm, that was nice of you," Judy added, but her tone implied that she didn't really think so. "Quinny, we have to leave soon. You know I like to get there early for the carols. I see you've grown your mohawk back, Noah."

Yeah and your daughter loves to grab it when I fuck her…in her bed…in your house, he thought, but curbed himself yet again and simply nodded.

"Right, mom," Quinn stepped in quickly before someone said something they shouldn't have.

"It's cool. I gotta get home anyway. I'll see you in a couple of days," he said, but his eyes and smile said tonight.

She was surprised her mom didn't make her go to confession that night just for talking to him. If she only knew, she smiled on the car ride home.

She knows that he wants to tell people and so does she. There's nothing she wants more than to be able to walk down the hallway hand in hand with him, to have him pull her into the janitor's closet and hoist her up onto the counter. At school, they're cordial to one another. It's best if they don't talk and better if they don't even look because it's their looks that always give them away.

She doesn't know that he's obviously told his mom something until one day over break when she spent the day watching movies with him while he babysat his sister. Ruth came home from work and didn't seem the least bit surprised to find them on the couch, his arm slung around her shoulder, he head against his chest.

"How much does she know?" she asked later that night.

"Enough not to worry about me every night," he shrugged.

"She knows you come over here? What did she say?"

"She'd rather have tit be you than Santana."

"Comforting."

He wants her to tell her mom so badly that she picked him over the blonde bombshell, but he knows he shouldn't push her. She's promised to do it when they go back to school and for a few days he supposes that's good enough.

It's shameless but he's been doing things lately that could blow their cover. He comes over earlier in the night and leaves later in the morning, drops his boots loudly on the floor, does things on purpose to make her throw her head back against the pillows and arch her back while at the same time trying to resist the pull of her hand on his neck so that she can cover her lips-and the sound coming from them- with his own. What he doesn't realize is that it's starting to upset her.

"Knock it off," she hisses at him.

"No, I like it when you make that face," he whispers back and does the same thing, again, causing her to give him a shove and crawl off the bed, taking a blanket with her.

"What's your problem?" she questions him in a very hushed tone. If it's possible she is both yelling and whispering at the same time. "Do you want my mother to hear us?"

They don't fight, ever, but he can tell she is genuinely ticked off with him. Still, he's sort of pissed, too and feels that he has every right to be.

"Yeah, maybe I do."

"Don't be an asshole."

"Don't be a bitch," he counters.

"Maybe you should leave."

"Maybe you should tell your mom."

"Those statements are unrelated. Even if I told her, it's not like she would let you sleep over."

"I told my mom."

"That's different."

"Right, because I'm not ashamed of you."

"I'm not ashamed of you. I just don't want my mom to think I'm cheating on Sam. She likes him."

"Oh, and what's not to like? He's popular, good looking, dresses up well, never got sent to juvie, and I bet he loves Jesus, too."

"I don't love him. I love you," she tried to reason.

"Exactly. You don't love him so you can't be cheating on him. If anything, it's like…you're cheating on me."

"I am not."

"Break up with him," he demands for the first time. Until then, he was content with letting her make that call.

"Not over the phone, for the tenth time. I don't love him, I'm not wearing his ring anymore at all, and I haven't even talked to him in the past two days. I love you, I have to hide your stupid hickey on my collarbone, I talk to you every day and I can't sleep without you."

She thinks she's successfully defused the situation when his shoulders sag slightly and his face softens.

"Can you blame me for wanting you all to myself?"

"No," she admits and climbs back onto the bed, wrapping her blanket-clad arms around him. "But you've got me. Would it make you feel better if I tell my mom that I want to break it off with Sam?"

"You don't have to," he says, nuzzling her hair.

"I want to."

"Love you."

"I love you, too," she replies and reaches up to kiss him. He's never been great with the whole being patient thing, but he thinks he can wait it out for a few more days because it's all totally worth it.