Noah Puckerman was a lot of things, but a creeper was not one of them.
'wth San y would I go 2 their backyard when no1's home?'
He smirks to himself as pulls on a shirt over his head, grabbing his phone when it vibrates seconds later.
'puckerman I swear I will kil u. stop bein...jst go nd c wat u cn do.'
"See what I can do?" He raises an eyebrow at the phone and pockets it, before jogging down the stairs grabbing his keys and giving his mom a goodbye kiss on the head.
To say he was confused would be an understatement. He knew Rachel was at Quinn's house, after that crazy almost break-in the other night. He knew she was probably freaked out, but that didn't explain why Santana would be telling him to go check out the backyard of her house and 'see what I can do.'
Upon arriving he cuts his engine and walks to the backyard, determined to figure out what the hell the fiery Latina was on about.
He may have been expecting a lot of things, but he, most definitely, was not expecting what he found.
The sun hadn't set all the way, so there was still quite a bit of light out, and definitely enough for him to make out the words on the side of the house.
The rage that bubbled from deep within him scared him, seeing as he never felt quite this much anger before, directed at someone whose identity is a mystery.
"Fuck."
He stomped over closer to the wall and traced over the words, half believing that they'd disappear, half not even sure he's seeing things correctly.
"What in the hell?" If his eyes could shoot lasers, he's pretty sure the house would be up in smoke right now.
He growls out, "No one messes with my fellow hot Jew." And he turns back to go to his truck, taking out his phone on the way.
"Mike? I need your help. Grab a can of plaster and or spackle and a paint brush. Don't ask questions just do it! I'll come pick you up."
He shoves his phone into his pocket and guns the motor before quickly making his way to the nearest DIY store to grab some more supplies.
'That son of a bitch...Fuck no. His mom's pretty cool. That asshole, better not be the one behind this. No one messes with my hot little Jew Berry.'
He bangs his hands on the steering wheel and glares at the red light, willing it to change. Had he not made that stupid promise to Rachel about not breaking any more rules or that stupid promise about trying not to break the terms of his parole, he'd have already been at the store, and way past this stupid light.
At the thought the light changed to green and he smirks at it as he drives past it.
While he was quickly going up and down the aisles (why ask the store for help when no one looked like they knew what he may need) his phone rang. He paused for a second to answer his phone, quickly resuming his search.
"Hello."
"Why did Mike call me asking to borrow a paint brush?"
He stopped in his tracks, "Kurt?"
He heard the sigh through the phone, "Amazing perception skills there Puck. Yes, it's Kurt."
Puck furrowed his brow before finally letting out a somewhat strangled sigh, before making a split second decision.
"I. Need your help."
Kurt literally pulled the phone away from his ear and looked at it making sure it displayed the name 'Puck', before bring it back up, "Did I hear correctly? Did you just."
