Hi, just wanted to pop in here and quickly say thank you for reading (and for the reviews)! I was really nervous posting this story so it would be awesome to hear what you guys think, the good and/or bad.

ii.

He honestly doesn't remember why they're fighting and it's fucking dumb 'cause he just wants to sit on the couch and fucking watch Family Guy with a beer in one hand and Rachel's hair in the other.

"Are you even listening to me, Puck."

He continues to stare at the wall behind her shoulder even as his expression grows dark, but he growls, "Don't call me that."

She stomps her foot, and he knew it before he hears it so he's rolling his eyes as she makes that noise that she always does when she's beyond pissed. "Fuck you!"

It sounds so ridiculous coming from her that he barks out a laugh. And then he laughs some more until he's doubled over with his hands on his knees. And when he's, you know, able to breath, he looks up and she's got her hands on her hips and a little crease between her brows as she frowns.

"I'm sorry. It's just," he snorts. "You're so fucking cute."

"Stop trying to change the subject! I'm not comfortable with you-mph!" He's got both hands on her cheeks as he drowns the rest of her sentence with his kiss. And shit, he realises he's in a Taylor Swift song. (Rachel's a fan, okay? Fuck if he hasn't heard at least seven of her songs while he's been dating Crazy.) What's more fucked up is that he doesn't care. "Noah!" She squirms, pushing at his shoulders, but then she kisses him back so he just slides his arms around her tiny waist.

"Shh," he whispers as he trails his lips to her hairline and down to her neck, biting lightly on her earlobe along the way.

"Noah," she breathes lightly. She gasps then and shoves him off of her, and he wasn't expecting it so he stumbles back. "You can't just kiss me and expect me to forgive and forget."

She's probably right. They've gotta talk and shit if their relationship is ever gonna grow. Or whatever. So he sighs and crosses his arms across his chest. "Okay. M'sorry."

She mirrors his position and stands straighter (like that will do anything). "Sorry for what."

She's going to make him say it. He resists the urge to roll his eyes again, and clenches his jaw. "For choosing the better way to end a fight."

"Argument," she protests.

"Sorry," he deadpans. "For choosing the better way to end an argument."

"And?"

He squints. "Shit Rach, I don't even remember how this all started."

She's tapping her foot and staring blankly at him for a moment, and he thinks she's going to slap him until she sighs and says, "I don't remember either."

There are two ways to take this: claim it was all her fault because she's Crazy and always busting his balls on the smallest things (which will start another fight), or: "Look, whatever it was I promise not to do it again."

"Noah," she laughs. "That doesn't make sense; you can't-"

"Shhhhh." He shakes his head as he creeps closer and snakes his arms around her waist again.

She cranes her neck back as he tries to move in for a kiss, and frowns. On the plus side, her hands are gripping his shirt (he loves when she's all passionate like that). "Don't interrupt me, Noah."

That sounds familiar.

"Rach, I swear I don't mean to, but you talk for fucking hours when all you have to say is 'okay' or 'sure baby, whatever you want' or 'vegan crap is yummy'."

She lets go (not cool) and steps back again (so not cool). "I realise that I ramble, but I need to get my point across clearly so that there is no room for doubts about my stance on the situation."

"I get it. But I've other shit to do, okay? I can't stand here all day listening to your five-to-one word ratio sentences."

"I'm not apologising for who I am. Nor am I changing who I am!" She's pouting, and he's trying to decide if he hates that he can't kiss it away or love that it's such a Rachel thing.

"I'm not asking you to do that, alright? Sometimes I love when you do it, 'specially to someone other than me, and I get to see their fucking faces as you tear into them." He falls back on the couch behind him and reaches out a hand, wiggling his fingers for her to grab so he can pull her onto his lap. "We've just gotta compromise."

"Compromise," she repeats.

"Yeah. Like, if I'm not in the mood 'cause I've got deadlines to finish or my boss is on my ass again about whatever this time, and there you are going on and on about the sound tech's choice of lunch for the day-"

"That was one time!" she sputters indignantly.

"You talked about it for days."

She turns her head away from him grumbling, and he smirks, placing his chin on her shoulder. He looks up at her face.

"If you're all pissy about something, write it on a post-it and if you still wanna whine when I'm ready, I'll hear it out."

"I think I need something bigger than a post-it." She turns her head back to look down at him, and pushes her forehead against his.

"You're right. A book." He fakes a wince when she punches him in the arm (because he kind of deserves it. Maybe. Not really. Do you know how much the girl talks?).

He frowns when she scoots off his lap, but it slides into a smile when she tucks herself under his arm and gives him the remote from the coffee table. "Deal," she whispers, and he nudges his nose into the top of her head and kisses it.

He turns on to Fox and twirls a strand of her hair around his finger. There's no beer but he's too comfortable.