Author's Note: I meant to post this sooner, but better late than never, right? Fair warning, definitely not as fluffy as the past few. But hopefully still worth a read (and a review, please!).

Month 10

Puck dug through the hamper of dirty laundry, trying to find his favorite hoodie when it hadn't been in either his dresser or hers. In his haste to grab a few livable items before, he hadn't taken into account the below-freezing temperatures; his wardrobe was still just mostly T-shirts. No big deal if his buddy didn't keep his place just as frigid as the snow-covered streets of New York, but he was sleeping for shit - and he wanted to believe it was because the shivering was keeping him awake and not the lack of his usual sleeping partner. Anytime he thought about her, he just got crazy pissed again, which was why he was currently trying to hurry up and get the hell out of dodge. Blaine had told him she wasn't at the apartment, but he hadn't texted how long she'd be gone.

It had been a week since he'd talked to or seen her, and he wasn't sure how he'd react. Thinking about her just made him feel all those same shitty emotions he'd felt after everything happened, and … well, he didn't want to. They made him uncomfortable, especially when the only way to describe them was with words like "fragile" and "vulnerable". If he was forced to feel things, then he wanted them to revolve more closely to "badass" or "epic" or "orgasmic". He hated the way he hadn't been able to eat much or sleep much or even think much because all his energy was being spent on missing her - or trying not to.

"Noah?"

Fuck.

"Noah?" Rachel asked again, her voice drawing nearer as her steps quickened toward their bedroom. The curtain flew open, her face losing much of its tension the second she saw him. "I'm so glad you're here."

"I just needed to pick up some shit," he declared, his voice rough while he went back to searching for that shirt, averting his eyes from her and refusing to think about how good she looked.

"Can we please just talk about this?" Her voice was desperate, and he liked it. "I think you owe me that much."

"I owe you?" He barked incredulously, all but dropping the bag he'd thrown a few more articles of clothing into. He was practically shaking he was so mad. "You kiss another dude and I owe you?"

Rachel sighed heavily, staring at him with a mix of sorrow and exasperation. "Noah, I've been extremely patient with you all week, but this is completely unfair."

"Patient?" He snorted out, adding a short laugh for good measure. "If the definition of patient is blowin' up my phone every damn hour and being a snotty, snobby ... elitist about admittin' you're wrong and calling me a child. Then, sure. Patient."

Puck didn't care if he sounded like a baby (Now. He hadn't before. Bitch). His girlfriend had kissed another guy, and he had every right to be pissed. It didn't matter that it was for some stupid school concert thing. What mattered was the guy she'd kissed totally dug it and they still had about a thousand rehearsals left plus the dozen stage kisses and it all just made his skin crawl. Now that he was on this side of exclusivity, he sort of hated himself for the shit he did to chicks when he was younger. If they felt half as shitty as he did, then … fuck.

"Is this really how you want to spend your birthday?"

"It's my birthday, and I'll be an asshole if I want to," he all but sang before pushing up the curtain on the opposite side of the room and tried to make his escape.

"I have a present for you."

He didn't even turn around, just tossed over his shoulder, "Ya gonna let me watch you blow Seth or Sebastian or whatever his douchey name was?"

"Noah," she began, her voice sharp enough to stop him even though he didn't dare face her, "you are surrounded by beautiful women every day - some who pay for guitar lessons they most certainly do not need just to spend an hour alone with you at the music store - and never once have I questioned your fidelity."

Puck scoffed. She'd questioned it before; they've had a few fights that she'd claimed were about one thing but then sprung into her self-esteem issues without any damn warning. Like, maybe he'd be more willing to help with the dishes if she'd wear some slutty outfit he hadn't even noticed some chick wearing (because when Rachel is in the room, she's all he's looking at). Yeah. That shit happened.

Then he thought about how he was in a massage therapy class for school and the handful of happy ending jokes he'd made probably sucked for her. But those were just jokes. This thing with that guy was like, foreshadowing or something. Evidence that he was completely disposable, or at the very least replaceable. Like, she could probably hold auditions for the empty slot of boyfriend and have a fucking line around the block with dudes willing to take his place. Dudes who were probably a way better choice for her than him, which is what really had him so pissed; like he needed a reminder that she'd be fine without him.

"You have nothing to be jealous abou …"

"Jealous?" He questioned immediately, his anger bubbling back to the surface as he whipped around to stare at her. "You think I'm jealous? Of some musical douche who's probably a fag anyway?" She winced at his words. "He don't got nothin' on me."

"I didn't mean to insinuate …"

"He," Puck growled, abandoning his plan to leave and smirking when she responded just how he knew she would, "can't make you shiver by just steppin' closer."

"R-right," Rachel stuttered, her breath shallow. "That's precisely my point."

"Your heart's racin'," he taunted after reaching out and grabbing her wrist. He held it so tightly he could feel her pulse against the pads of his fingers. He tugged her against him, his other hand sneaking around back to wrap around her long hair and yank it a little. She let out a surprised yelp, her free hand reaching up to rest on his bicep. "You're shaking."

He felt the rush of breath across his neck when he leaned into hers, letting his teeth trail over the sensitive skin. Her mouth apparently wasn't working and she'd tried to use her hands again but he just held her tighter, pulled her hair harder to expose as much of her neck as possible. Puck could make shapes out of his hickeys, but this time he just wanted to make a mark. Stake his claim.

"Noah."

Her voice quivered when she'd finally managed to speak, but he just ignored her. He did let go of her hair, but only to swipe his arm across the small table against the wall that housed a bowl for their keys and shit. The sound of the items skidding across the hardwood floors echoed around them as he forced her to sit on the table, pressing her back against the wall harshly while he moved in between her legs. She whimpered at the bruising kiss he planted on her lips, and he couldn't help the wicked grin from forming once he finally set her released her pouty mouth.

"You only do this for me." It was meant to be patronizing, but it sounded more like a command. "You're mine."

"Noah," she whined, though he wasn't sure if it was because of his words (and what she wanted to say) or because he'd literally ripped her panties off from underneath her skirt. Who wore a skirt (his favorite. Bitch) in the middle of January? "I'm all for expressing ourselves physically, but this isn't going to resolve the problem."

He caught her hands before they made contact with his chest, practically slamming them above her head against the wall. He held them there tightly, seething despite the pain he saw rip through her expression. He'd hurt her, but she was also completely turned on given her flushed cheeks and the heat he felt radiating from her core. He was going to fuck her into the wall.

"You're the problem," he bit back, closing in on her.

"Caroline."

He stopped instantly, intending to step away from her entirely but she caught the loose fabric of his shirt and kept him relatively close. Her touch was soft and warm and her expression was filled with nothing but love. He hated himself at that moment, unsure of how things even got to the point where she'd felt the need to use their safe word but regretting it with his whole being nonetheless. He rested his forehead against hers, taking comfort in the simple gesture.

"I'm sorry," he choked out, replacing his forehead with his lips as his hands reached up to cradle her jaw. "I'm an asshole. I'm sorry." His thumb skimmed across her cheek, catching a tear that had fallen. "Shit. I'm sorry. I love you. Shit."

She giggled, shaking her head slightly before kissing him softly. "I know. I'm sorry, too." She rolled her eyes at his shock. "I'm sorry we wasted a week together over something so silly." She kissed him again, this time more firmly. "I love you, too, Noah. That never changed, and never will."

It hadn't been the best birthday - they did say it was all downhill after 20 - but there was at least hope the rest of the year would go well. Although that's not to say he wasn't going to try to make the most of it. "For my birthday wish, I say we go to our room and makeup for lost time."