Don't expect massive chapter updates like this all the time, this is just celebration because i've got a weeks holiday (yay).
Noah Puckerman still firmly believed that he and his boyfriend were in the can't-keep-their-hands-off-each-other stage in their relationship. They were finally living together and had spent every night cuddling up in bed (admittedly there was only one bed in the house and it was the right size that two people could sleep on the together but wouldn't have much personal space. Whoever it was that used to own this house, Puck thought, either never had anybody over or had specifically designed it such that any misfortunate guy playing the role of guest would be forced to spend the night snuggling with the woman). He was also aware that people in that stage were supposed to be so sickeningly in adoration of one another that they were blind of each others faults, so how had they managed to sneak in there? Puck thought this as he lay awake in the morning. He didn't have to be at his new job for a while but Kurt had woken him up to begin his moisturising routine, which seem to last from 6-8am. Seriously, where did he get all this stuff from?
Puck was also acutely aware that Kurt felt the same. The clue had probably been when Kurt started shouting at him for leaving his clothes in a messy pile by their bed.
It was Wednesday morning that he finally brought this up with Kurt.
"I know who you are! You're the guy who's obsessed with being neat. You have to pay the bills as soon as they come through the mailbox. You stay awake all night because there's still some washing up in the sink, and probably sneak out at two am to finish it so you can get some sleep. You bitch about your roommates leaving you to do all the cleaning but they would do it themselves if you just waited instead of having to sort it out right away."
Kurt opened his mouth to deliver a scathing retort. And closed it. Since when had Puck been so perceptive?
Then Puck did something Kurt didn't expect; he laughed.
"You know having a cleaning-obsessed housewife isn't just useful, it's also adorable. And you are no way near as neurotic as some other people I've lived with." By this point Puck had moved forwards so there noses were inches apart. Then a car horn sounded from outside and they broke apart. "One of the other employees said she'd give me a lift."
With a jerk Kurt rushed outside after his boyfriend. "Wait you forgot the lunch I made." Kurt handed him a brown paper bag. I was going to make some of my zucchini bread but the store didn't have any organic produce, the best think I could find was some chilli tacos." Puck noticed Kurt smile as he pretended to have not remembered what Puck's favourite food is.
What followed was a kiss that both men swore they'd been the one to initiate. Kurt had intended for it to be a quick have-a-good-day-at-work peck on the lips, but the cut-off point for that had passed by a few seconds ago, so it looked like it's more of a-
Kurt's hand tightened around his partners shoulder, only for a second but Puck still felt it. He surveyed the area but didn't see anyone else around, perhaps the person had immediately ducked indoors.
"So you're back around five then. Bye honey."
Apparently they were pretending that nothing had just happened. Silently Puck nodded and wandered over to the car in their driveway, driven by an irate-looking woman with a bun of dirty blonde hair and wearing a smart black pantsuit.
It turned out that the blonde, mousey woman's full name was Irene Sherman. She's one of the main brains in the casting department and seemed to take a critical interest in any new voice actors. Currently she was staring at Puck from a nearby dining table.
"So I see you've warranted the wrath of the Sherminator," said his new friend Zane "don't worry, that only lasts until either someone new joins the cast or you die. Whichever comes last."
Zane wiped his greasy hands on a plain black jumper, then ran them through his hair, which is short, black and styled so that it streaks to the back of his head, giving the impression that he has been blasted in the face with a tank turret or is standing in front of a very powerful fan.
"My favourite's the New York Yankees."
"You're into baseball? I've only been living in the area a couple of days but I got the impression that it's more of a football place."
"That's just because there's a football pitch nearby, but I can tell you there are a few dedicated baseballers in this very lunch room."
Since it was his first day Puck decided he had better behave himself and not 'ham it up' during the first script reading. Of course it didn't help that Zane was making faces at him across the table.
Meanwhile, in the corner of the room, Irene Sherman glared quietly.
Because the oven didn't work they had been forced to stick to preparing ready-made meals in a rather old looking microwave. Typical, thought Kurt, of course the oven doesn't work, the house was so cheap. Nevertheless Kurt had managed to locate the loose piece of metal jamming the oven, or to be more precise attempting to dislodge it with a steak knife whilst balancing on a can of paint to gain leverage. In hindsight he realised this wasn't the safest thing to do. It was whilst taking his frustration out on the piece of metal that had forced him to eat all that processed junk that the can buckled, causing Kurt to fall backwards and splattering both him and the wall with bright red paint. In the middle of the splatter Kurt's figure was silhouetted with his arms in the air like in a cartoon. He would have found this amusing if he wasn't in a foul mood; a large purple bruise was developing on his backside and the paint had just ruined his expensive Marc-Jacobs designer jacket. Someone knocked on the door and it was swung open from the inside.
Standing there was a man; Kurt guessed 30-something. He has short brown hair and has a good physique underneath the large, white coveralls and he looks absolutely terrified.
"Are you Kurt Hummel?" Kurt nodded. "My name is Daniel Derkins. My wife Susan talked to you a few days ago."
At this point Kurt became aware of the fact that he was standing in the doorway with a deranged expression, clutching a steak knife and splattered in red liquid. Kurt lowered the knife, which he had raised to…do nothing.
"Oh, come in."
The man approached the splash of red on the wall, which showed the shape of a falling person that had been left clean like a life-size stencil. Kurt had previously thought that the cluttered mess looked like the result of a previous owner who had not been bothered to tidy, but now walking through with Daniel he realised it closer resembled the scene of a struggle between two people. On the kitchen table lay the morning paper, open at an article entitled "police unable to find evidence for suspected murder on Willow Lane". On the other side was the cryptic crossword; the only clue that had been filled in was the word 'mutilation'. It was the only clue Kurt had been able to figure out, and he was so proud he had emphatically underlined the word 'mutilation' and flanked it with triple exclamation marks.
There was an awkward silence.
"I'm not a serial killer."
"I didn't think you were" replied Daniel.
"Now I do."
Kurt realised he was joking. "I'll just be upstairs getting changed."
When he came down he recognised Susan next to her husband. "Dan; tidy up this room, Kurt; you're coming with me."
Soon they were seated in the living room on either side of the wooden coffee table.
"You really don't need to get Dan to help around the house."
"Nonsense, what do you need him to do. Clean out the gutters? Grout and tile the bathroom?"
Kurt shifted in his seat. "Well there is a large paint stain on the kitchen wall that needs cleaning before it dries." Susan raised an eyebrow but didn't say anything.
As if on cue Daniel entered. "I've sorted most of the clutter but I don't know where a lot of it goes."
"Love you Danny" said Susan whilst taking hold of his hand.
"Love you too Susie" replied Daniel dreamily.
"You know what else I love?" asked Susan. By this point he was practically on her lap, their mouths barely apart. "Thoroughly scrubbed kitchen walls." At this Daniel plodded off to the other room, clearly disappointed.
Kurt was in awe: he was clearly in the presence of a master.
"Me and Katherine thought you might want a hand with the housework, since you've just moved in. Plus you haven't exactly had the chance to socialise so I came over."
"Is Katherine the one with the long, curly, ginger hair?"
"Yeah, the one who came over with me on Sunday."
"Kurt, why is there a topless guy in the kitchen? Not that I'm complaining."
"Susan lent us her boy-toy to help do the housework. And I guess he got hot."
Another thing Puck noticed was that they now talked about boy-toy as if he wasn't in the room.
In the living room Kurt was in full cleaning getup, including a red polka dot headscarf he had found somewhere, and seemed to be entirely focusing his efforts on one spot.
"What do you think?"
Puck was going to point out that even with all the cleaning the entire house wasn't exactly going to win any housekeeping awards but decided against it.
He remembered the time in high school when they had told that the air conditioning system was notoriously filthy and as such constantly spewed germs into the air, causing her to have a minor nervous breakdown.
"It looks great Kurt." He leaned over and kissed him on the cheek. "So do you."
"Cheesiest line ever" commented Kurt, blushing profusely.
"So how was your first day at work?"
"It was great. I get to play this character that's Italian and I've got to do the accent as well."
Removing the headscarf and placing it on the coffee table, Kurt followed his boyfriend through to the kitchen. It was no Broadway, but maybe Kurt could get to used to this.