all my dreams are coming true (a happy holiday for me and you)
It's her first holiday season as a couple with Santana, and as with most things, Rachel wants it to be perfect. She's always thought of this time of year as a magical one, with the frosty chill in the air and the pretty, glimmering snow painting the roofs, trees and yards of Lima all a bright white. This year, though, it's extra special, because she's in love, and there's nothing better than being in love at holiday time.
She's looking our the large living room window while her dads debate the proper arrangement of the new blue and white LED lights they want to add to the window, where the electric menorah's already glowing. She hums what Santana calls "that dreidel song" to herself as she's been doing more and more lately. Santana claims to find the song annoying, but Rachel knows she secretly loves it, because she's caught the ex-Cheerio humming it when she thinks Rachel's not listening – and this despite the fact that the glee club's been doing holiday themed (mostly Christmas, despite her and Puck's best efforts) songs all week.
And tonight, the last night of Chanukah, with Christmas only a couple of days away, Santana will be coming over to receive the last of the Chanukah gifts Rachel had bought for her. She knows her girlfriend is going to love this one most of all, and she just can't wait to see the look on Santana's beautiful face when she opens each one. This one had cost a small chunk of the Chanukah money she'd gotten from her grandparents and relatives - but oh, it's so worth every penny, and then some.
"Dad, Daddy – will you please stop arguing and put the lights up," she admonishes her fathers, the annoyance in her tone belied by the warm smile on her face. They do this every year, like it's a show they're putting on for her amusement. "The menorah looks so sad and lonely without them."
They look at her, and then at each other, as they always do, and Rachel steps away from the window as they approach with the string of lights in hand. Opening their arms, she falls into them, feeling their love for her surrounding her, warming her like the softest, fluffiest blanket ever.
"We love you, Rachelah," Hiram says as she scrunches herself between the two men. "Can you forgive two grumpy middle aged men for fighting during the holiday season?"
"We're not fighting," Leroy retorts, his voice a low rumble. "We're negotiating. It's a family tradition, after all. And I'm not grumpy."
Rachel steps out of her fathers' embrace and crosses her arms, regarding them with a critical eye. "Yes, you are grumpy, sometimes," she says to Leroy, who tries to look contrite and fails, yet again; he just can't help but break into a guilty smile. "And fighting and negotiating are two different things."
"I told you," Hiram says, "Rachel loves me best. Don't you, sweetheart?" He laughs when his daughter rolls her eyes at him, laughs even more when his husband sticks out his tongue in mock protest.
"I love you both equally, Dad. And Daddy. Now go, get those lights up. I want them to be shining brightly when Santana gets here." She makes shooing motions with her hands. "Go!"
Leroy salutes his daughter, and he and Hiram share a smile. They kind of love it when Rachel gets bossy with them, though they'll never admit it out loud.
The men walk around her, lifting the string of lights over her head, and begin to unravel the cord. They're old hands at this, Rachel knows, and they'll have the lights up quickly, well before Santana arrives. She heads into the kitchen to check on the sheet of holiday cookies she's got baking in the oven, and the smell of them is almost overwhelming, wafting through the air like a silent song of deliciousness. She's got Christmas tree cookies, dreidel cookies, snowflake cookies, Star of David cookies – a perfect holiday selection. There are even a couple of musical note cookies, because music is always on her mind - and because it's the thing that brought her and Santana together, after all.
"Almost done," she says to herself as she peers through the oven window, then checks the timer on the oven. "Santana is going to love you, cookies. You're so sweet and tasty and delicious. No one can resist your charms."
A glance at her watch tells Rachel that Santana should be arriving when the cookies have cooled just enough to be eaten and enjoyed; it also tells her that it's nearly time for her to get changed into the special outfit that Kurt and Mercedes helped her pick out for tonight. It's absolutely perfect, and she can't wait for Santana to see her in it. She knows it will drive her wild.
Minutes later, the timer on the oven beeps. Rachel claps softly and lets out a tiny squeal.
She turns the oven off and dons her favorite forearm length oven mitts to remove the cookies. (She loves baking, but the heat of the oven still intimidates her a little.) The overpowering aroma is so good that it nearly makes her swoon. She places them on the counter and looks them over, admiring her creations with pride. She's certain that these are the best she's ever baked. Santana will surely taste all the love she put into them; there's no way she couldn't.
"Dad, Daddy! My cookies are done," she announces. Her fathers appear in the kitchen entrance with eager looks on their faces. Hiram is actually rubbing his hands, giddy with anticipation. Rachel smiles at his silliness. "You may have only one of each. The rest are for Santana and myself. Understood?" The men nod, their hungry eyes transfixed by the sight of the cooling pan of sweet treats. "Please, be good. Tonight is very important for me."
"When aren't we good?" Leroy rumbles, looking at his husband and then at his daughter with the most sincere and innocent expression he can possibly manage. "We're always good. Right, honey?"
"Don't worry, sweetheart. I'll keep this one reined in," Hiram replies with a gentle nudge to the taller man's side. "And then, once he's had his allotment, we're off to the movies. We're trusting that you and Santana won't be throwing any impromptu Glee Club parties while we're gone. At least, we hope you won't."
Rachel rolls her eyes at her father's attempt at a stern expression. He's never been any good at that, really; it's hard to look stern when you're pushing your glasses up from the bridge of your nose.
"Of course, Daddy. I need to go upstairs and change now. Please let me know if Santana gets here before you two leave?"
"Yes, yes," Leroy says, making a shooing motion with one large hand as he crosses the floor to the refrigerator, removing a gallon of milk from it and placing it on the counter next to the cookies. "Go ahead. Like your father said, we'll just have our cookies first and then we'll be out of your hair. Hiram, would you get us a couple of plates?" The other man dutifully bustles over to the cupboard and retrieves two small plates.
"Thanks. I love you. See you later!" she says with a beaming smile, her belief that she has the two best fathers in the world confirmed yet again.
Leroy returns the smile. "We love you too. Now go on – we have serious men's cookie business to attend to!"
"I call the dreidel, the one in the middle," she hears Hiram say as she bounds up the stairs to her room, where the perfect outfit and even more perfect gifts await.
She'd known the dress was perfect the moment she saw it. The looks on Kurt's and Mercedes' faces had confirmed the fact seconds later. It was completely unlike anything she'd ever worn, and that was exactly the reason why it was perfect. Santana would be shocked to see her in it, in the very best of ways.
Rachel strips out of her simple sweater and skirt and looks at herself in the mirror, clad only in her lacy lavender bra and matching bikini panties. It still amazes her, seeing herself in the body that's reflected in the glass. She realizes that the last tiny vestiges of baby fat she'd carried during her freshman year are finally gone – her face has lost all traces of roundness, and her midsection is pleasingly firm and taut with newly defined muscle. Being with Santana has gotten her in touch with her body in a way she's never been before. It's spurred her to work out harder and longer on her elliptical, and over the months they've been together, she's added calisthenics on top of that. The results have been overwhelmingly positive: her body is leaner, stronger, more defined than it's ever been, and her energy and stamina have greatly increased as well. As an added bonus, their intimate times together just keep getting longer and more explosive – much to their surprise and delight. Santana has always insisted that Rachel is the best partner she's ever had, but until recently, Rachel had doubted the veracity of that claim.
Now she believes it without question. And that's a really big deal, she realizes.
And so, the dress.
It's the kind of thing Santana would love and wear – a sheath that's short, tight, and revealing, clingy in all the right ways and places. But what makes it extra-special is the way it's designed to resemble a candy cane, with the familiar red and white swirls. Rachel blushes to think of all the salacious comments that her girlfriend will likely make when she sees her in it, and blushes harder when she thinks of all the ways Santana knows to turn her words into breathless reality. When they'd been in the store where Rachel bought the dress, Kurt and Mercedes had mercifully refrained from voicing aloud their own thoughts on what Santana would say, knowing that they could never match her girlfriend's wit, her extraordinary ability to make even the most provocative, suggestive comments sound somehow innocent and everyday.
She pulls the dress over her head, loving the feel of the silky, stretchy fabric as it slides over her skin, molds itself to the shape of her body. Never has she felt more alive, more invigorated than she does at this very moment. Every cell, every nerve, every fiber of her being is humming, electric with excitement. Yes, tonight is going to be a very memorable night indeed.
Her daddy Leroy's voice booms up the stairs. "Rachel! Your father and I are leaving, and I think Santana's car just pulled up! Do you want me to send her upstairs, or are you coming down to meet her?"
"I'll be right down," Rachel calls. "Just a second!"
She takes in a large breath, lets it out in a single long, slow exhalation. Well, she thinks. Here goes nothing – or everything...
Santana's standing just inside the doorway, still bundled in her long winter coat, wearing the cute cat earmuffs Brittany gave her at the Glee Secret Santa party (Rachel wishes she'd thought of that!). She's just stripping off her gloves when she hears the first fall of Rachel's heels on the stairs. (Rachel had bought new shoes to go with the dress, a pretty red pair of not-too-high heels that make her calves look fantastic. She always thinks of everything.) When the former Cheerio looks up to see Rachel standing at the top of the stairs in the stunning red and white outfit, her eyes go wide and the air in her lungs gets hopelessly stuck; it's like she's forgotten how to breathe for a moment. Her brain has short-circuited, and it's all she can do to get her girlfriend's name past her suddenly dry tongue.
"Rachel."
It sounds like the most fervent prayer she's ever recited, that one word, that reverent whisper.
Rachel beams down at her, reveling in Santana's unabashedly hungry gaze. She slowly walks down the stairs, taking special care to make sure that her girlfriend gets an excellent look at her legs with each step, and hears her girlfriend's breathing quicken as she gets ever closer. Finally, she stands on the last step, which makes her slightly taller than Santana for once, and dips her head down so that she can plant a sweet kiss on the other girl's plump, delicious lips.
"Hi," she says softly.
It takes a couple of moments for Santana's brain to reboot. She opens the eyes that she'd closed when Rachel kissed her and stares at the other girl's happy, smiling face. It's nearly impossible to believe that this is Rachel, her Rachel, and yet it is. She's stunned, incredulous, but the mirth in Rachel's fathomless brown eyes tells her that yes, it's really her.
Rachel steps down from the last stair; it takes a moment for Santana to realize that the heels her girlfriend is wearing have erased the slight difference in their height. She's not used to having Rachel at eye level, but she doesn't mind. It's actually a refreshing change. Rachel smiles bemusedly as the realization shows in Santana's still slightly dazed eyes.
"Hi. You look...you look amazing," Santana says as she unbuttons her coat. "Who helped you to pick out that incredible dress? Not your dads, I'm sure. Do they even know you own something like that?"
Rachel laughs at the thought of her earnest, awkward, loving dads helping her to pick out a dress like this, let alone buying it for her. It's scandalously short and revealing. She's pretty sure that one or both of her fathers would have a heart attack if they saw her in it.
"Kurt and Mercedes came along, but I actually saw the dress first. As soon as I did, I knew it was perfect." She steps back, does a little twirl, hears the catch of breath in Santana's throat when she sees just how short the dress is, especially from the back. "I'm so glad you like it."
"Like it? Are you kidding me? I effin' love it!"
(Santana's been making an effort to swear less these days. She doesn't always succeed, but Rachel appreciates it just the same.)
"Yay!" Rachel can't help but let out a little squeal of happiness as she helps Santana out of her long, heavy coat. "I'm so glad you like it. I really wanted to surprise you."
Santana reaches one arm around Rachel's waist to pull her close. "Oh, you did that and more, short stack," she husks, then captures Rachel's lips in a hot, passionate kiss, one that quickly grows in intensity when Rachel opens her mouth to grant access to the ex-cheerleader's tongue. They stay that way, lips and tongues locked and tied together, Santana's arms around Rachel's waist, Rachel's slung around Santana's neck. It's only when Santana squeezes Rachel's remarkably firm ass that their embrace is broken, as the need for oxygen has become too great for either of them to ignore.
"Mmm," Santana says with a wicked grin. "I do so love the taste of my sweet Berry." She pauses, sniffs the air. "And...you baked cookies, didn't you? You so did!" Her grin widens into a delighted smile. "Where are they? I needs to get my cookie on - like, now!"
"In a moment, Santana." Rachel blocks the step Santana takes toward the Berry kitchen. "First, I want to take a look at you. My very own Christmas elf!"
"Your very own hot Christmas elf, that is." She gestures up and down at her body, a vision in festive red and green, complete with the requisite Santa Claus hat, short green skirt and red stockings. "And if you're very good, you'll get to see just how hot later."
"Really? You promise?" Rachel says, stepping back into Santana's personal space to wrap her arms around her girlfriend's neck again, stealing another kiss. "Because I don't think you know how good I can be."
"Well, you just make sure to show me later." Santana connects their lips again, a soft, sweet, short kiss with the promise of much more in store later on. Then she steps out of Rachel's embrace and looks toward the kitchen. "But right now, I am operating at a serious cookie deficit – so let me at 'em, already!"
Rachel laughs, finally allowing Santana past her, watching her girlfriend march into the kitchen with purpose, as though she's on a serious mission. "You're just glad you're not on the Cheerios anymore. Coach Sue never would have let you have more than one of those, if any at all."
"Damn right I'm glad. Your cookies give me life." Santana looks over the large plate of baked treats, neatly arranged by theme. Rachel joins her, wrapping her arms around Santana's waist, pleased to see that her fathers had not in fact eaten too many of them. "Mmm," the former Cheerio says, biting into one of the still-warm, fresh cookies. "You know, if singing doesn't work out for you, baking would be a good fall back option."
"Bite your tongue. Broadway is my destiny." Rachel plants a kiss to the back of her girlfriend's neck, right in that one spot that she knows will never fail to turn Santana's knees to jelly.
"Oh shit," Santana moans. The remains of her cookie crumble in her hand. "You really shouldn't do that when I'm eating."
"As you would say – sorry, not sorry. Even if we will have to clean up those crumbs later."
"I've been a bad influence on you, haven't I?" Santana smirks, turning in Rachel's arms so their noses are nearly touching. Her arms snake around the petite diva's neck. "Not that I've heard you complaining...much."
"What's to complain about? I have two amazing dads, a fantastic group of friends, and the most incredible girlfriend in the world. I'd say there's no reason for me to complain, not now."
"And we're going to crush it at Nationals next year. I know it, you know it, every other show choir in the freakin' country knows it."
"From your lips to...whoever's ears," Rachel laughs. Then her eyes narrow as she peers intently at Santana's smiling face. "Oh! You have some crumbs...right...there."
Before Santana can say or do anything, Rachel's lips brush away the offending cookie particles with a soft kiss, drawing a suddenly heated growl from Santana. Their lips connect again, more passionately this time – but before things can escalate further, Rachel breaks away, much to her girlfriend's surprise. Santana looks at her with a puzzled expression on her face.
"As much as I'm enjoying this," she gasps, her face flushed with color. "I do have some other...activities planned for us."
"Like what? I can't think of anything better than where that was headed," Santana fumes, crossing her arms.
"And we'll get there - just later, I promise." Rachel takes a step closer, puts her hands on Santana's arms, squeezes them lightly. "But right now, I want to sing with you."
"You'd rather sing than...?" The ex-Cheerio's eyebrow rises, and the smile on her face is so seductive that it almost breaks Rachel's resolve. That raised eyebrow, that mischievous smile, the light in Santana's eyes – it never fails to turn her on.
Despite that, somehow Rachel presses on. "No, Santana. That is my favorite thing in the world." She blushes at the way Santana's dark eyes darken still further, and quickly amends her statement. "Well, co-favorite thing. You know how much I love singing. Especially singing with you."
"That's because I'm awesome, pixie stix." She uncrosses her arms to take Rachel's hands in hers. "Okay – what song did you have in mind? Not All I Want for Christmas is You, please. Hearing Britt and Artie sing it in Glee may have ruined that song for me forever."
"I thought they did an admirable job, though Brittany is no Mariah Carey."
"Well, who is?" Santana deadpanned, rolling her eyes. "Present company excepted, of course."
Laughing, Rachel leads Santana out of the kitchen and into the living room, where they settle down on the plush, super comfortable couch that dominates the space. Rachel grabs the remote for the stereo, to which her iPod is already hooked up. Suddenly music fills the air, replacing the momentary silence.
"Thank you for the compliment," Rachel finally replies with a smile. "And no, the divine Ms. Mariah is not on our playlist for the evening. We are going to sing another holiday classic. One that suits our voices much better, I think."
Santana recognizes the tune instantly. She can't help but smile back as Rachel begins to sing.
Santa baby, slip a sable under the tree for me
Been an awful good girl
Santa baby, and hurry down the chimney tonight
Santa baby, an auto space convertible too, light blue
I'll wait up for you, dear
Santa baby, and hurry down the chimney tonight
Santana takes her cue from Rachel, continuing without missing a single beat, changing one simple but very important pronoun in the following verse.
Think of all the fun I've missed
Think of all the girls that I haven't kissed
Next year I could be also good
If you'll check off my Christmas list
Santa honey, I want a yacht and really that's not a lot
Been an angel all year
Santa baby, and hurry down the chimney tonight
Rachel joins in, and their voices sync in perfect harmony, as they always do. Their smiles widen as they get swept up in the song.
Santa cutie, there's one thing I really do need, the deed
To a platinum mine
Santa cutie, and hurry down the chimney tonight
Santa baby, and fill my stocking with a duplex and checks
Sign your 'x' on the line
Santa baby, and hurry down the chimney tonight
Come and trim my Christmas tree
With some decorations bought at Tiffany
I really do believe in you
Let's see if you believe in me
Their voices increase in power and volume as they rev up to the song's big finish, swaying and dancing in their seats.
Santa baby, forgot to mention one little thing, a ring
I don't mean on the phone
Santa baby, and hurry down the chimney tonight
Hurry down the chimney tonight
Hurry, tonight...
They hold the final note for as long as they can, long after the music ends, each trying to outdo the other in a friendly competition before they finally dissolve into a fit of laughter. Rachel wraps her arm around Santana's shoulder in a one armed hug, while Santana's hand finds a comfortable position at Rachel's waist. They laugh and laugh until they catch their breath, looking into each other's eyes.
"I love you," Rachel finally says, slightly out of breath. Her voice as calm and serious, the way it always is whenever she says those three magical words. She still says it like it's the first time ever the words have passed her lips, and Santana still gets goosebumps and a chill up her spine when she hears them.
Santana stares into Rachel's sparkling eyes, seeing once again the passionate honesty, the depth of emotion that never fails to amaze her whenever she gazes into them. It blows her away, knowing how much Rachel means those words, knowing she feels every bit as strongly about Rachel. She's never been as good at verbalizing her feelings as Rachel, although she's gotten a lot better at it since they've been together. It's times like this that her emotions threaten to overwhelm her, and she feels something like a leaf swept up in a gale.
So, rather than say those three little words back, she simply takes Rachel's face in her hands and kisses her. The kiss begins softly, sensuously, and quickly becomes heated, filled with need; the former Cheerio is surprised, pleasantly, when Rachel takes on the role of aggressor, insistently requesting access to the inside of her mouth, which she's only too happy to grant. And as Rachel's tongue surges to meet her own, her hands become every bit as insistent, tracing a route from her waist up to her breasts, her collarbone, her neck, and finally behind her head, fingers curling and twisting in her raven dark hair.
She's surprised, too, when Rachel's body surges forward, forcing her to shift her weight and lean back against the arm of the couch, and her hands grab her wrists, pinning them beside her head, as she finds the little diva straddling her. Rachel's gotten a lot stronger in the last few months, and Santana has to admit it's become a real turn-on. The petite diva smiles down at her, face flushed with heat, chocolate brown eyes a shade or two darker. Her chest heaves as she breathes heavily, and Santana doesn't mind that at all either.
"Say you love me," Rachel commands, her breath coming in short, sharp pants. "Say it. Say I love you, Rachel Berry. Say it."
"Rachel – I -" Her words are swallowed by the other girl's lips on hers, savagely stealing the breath from her lungs. When she pulls back, Santana can only gasp in wonder. "God. What – what's gotten into -" Another hard, insistent kiss leaves Santana shaking, her hips bucking up, seeking friction any way they can find it. "Damn."
"Say it," Rachel repeats. "Say you love me."
Santana's never been so turned on in her life. Rachel looks like some sort of small, dark angel, haloed in the track lighting above them. She's wild, untamed, a force of nature barely contained in a human body. "I love you, Rachel Berry. Now kiss me again."
Their mouths meet again, lips crashing together, tongues engaging in a frenzied dance. Santana's body writhes in serpentine fashion beneath Rachel's weight, and she no longer bothers trying to suppress the loud moans being torn from her throat as Rachel attacks her jawline, the flesh behind her ear, the long column of her neck, with hot, scalding open-mouthed kisses, nips at her skin with her teeth. The slow simmering fire inside her blazes up, and only the knowledge somewhere in the back of her mind that Rachel's dress was probably really expensive prevents Santana from tearing it off Rachel's body.
Suddenly, there's a sound that penetrates the hazy fog of their mutual desire. A sound like a chime – no, a series of chimes -
Someone's ringing the doorbell. More accurately, someone's mashing the doorbell, and making a God-awful racket.
"Fuck. Rachel, you told me you didn't invite anybody else over tonight."
Rachel, panting as though she's been doing sprints on Coach Sylvester's practice field, shakes her head, looks as confused as Santana looks angry, and the ex-Cheerio knows she's telling the truth. She releases Santana's wrists, gets up off the couch, leaving Santana lying prone and more than a little frustrated.
"No – no one. I don't know who -"
The ringing stops, but now somebody's banging on the door, rapping at it with their knuckles, then pounding it with what sounds like both their palms. It's even louder and more annoying than the doorbell. Santana sits up, growling, furious at the interruption.
"Open up, Berry! We know you're in there," comes a voice from outside the door. "Let us in! It's freezing out here!"
"Quinn?" Now Rachel looks even more confused. "Why in the world would Quinn -"
"Please, Rachel! Don't make Lord Tubbington an orphan. If I catch my death out here, he'll have me exorcised when my ghost haunts him, asking for forgiveness."
Santana pinches the bridge of her nose with two fingers, laughing in spite of herself. "Brittany, oh my God." Rachel crosses the living room, adjusting her dress as best she can, to answer the door. She looks back at Santana, asking with her eyes if she's okay, if she needs another moment to get herself together.
"I'm fine. Answer it," Santana sighs. "It'll make it that much easier for me to figure out who I need to kill."
Rachel looks back at her girlfriend with an expression, combined with a hand gesture, that's meant to tell her to cool down quick. Santana's not inclined to do any such thing, but she takes a deep, calming breath and nods, giving Rachel the okay to answer the door.
"Finally!" Puck grumbles, pushing his shoulder against the door to get it open more widely. His hands are jammed in the pockets of his McKinley Titans football jacket, and Rachel is relieved to see that it doesn't appear he's attempted to smuggle any alcohol beneath it. "Jeez. I almost thought you were actually going to let a fellow Jew freeze to death. Not cool!"
Quinn and Brittany enter next, the former blowing furiously on her hands to warm them, the latter engulfing Rachel in a monstrous hug. "Happy Hebrew holiday that I can't pronounce because it has too many letter "K"s in it!" she cries, and it's all Rachel can do to keep from bursting into tears or laughter or, possibly, both at the same time.
The flood of New Directions continues unabated, spilling into the hallway like a tuneful tide. Tina and Artie are next, followed by Sam and Mike, with Mercedes, Kurt and Blaine the last to enter. The formerly quiet house is now a bustling riot of sound and movement, with gloves, hats, coats and scarves coming off amid a cacophony of conversation. Rachel shrugs helplessly, hazarding a glance at Santana, who's still sitting on the couch with a less than pleased look on her face, her arms crossed in annoyance. She knows her girlfriend is a powder keg who's capable of going off at any time; she just hopes Santana can keep herself contained long enough for her to spirit her upstairs for the presentation of the special gift that's waiting in her desk drawer.
Britt and Quinn are the first to breach the danger zone, seating themselves on either side of Santana, knowing they're the only ones who can safely do so without serious risk of injury.
"I know that look," Brittany says. She regards her friend with a sad expression, lower lip protruding slightly. "It's the look that says, I was getting my mack on and you all ruined it, so now I'm planning exactly how to make your deaths look totally accidental."
Quinn nods in agreement. "We're sorry, S. Britt just wanted everybody to get together and have a little fun. How were we to know you and Rachel were doing...that?" Her perfect nose crinkles in distaste, as though the room has already been defiled. (In truth, it has – just not tonight.)
Santana can't find it in herself to remain angry with her two best friends. She may not be a Cheerio on the field anymore, but she's still one in her heart. She gives each of them a slight nudge with her shoulder, letting them know they're forgiven.
"Okay, you know I have to tell you that your timing absolutely sucks, like, completely – but I'm happy to see you guys anyway." Rachel's laugh rings out above the bubbling din of conversation in the kitchen. "And besides, Rachel's having too good a time for me to throw you all out now."
The other New Directions slowly file into the living room, cheerfully greeting Santana as they enter. They're carrying plates and bowls of snacks and cups of soda, seating themselves on the remaining empty chairs or plopping right down onto the floor. They've always been a high energy group, but tonight they seem even more excited than usual; Santana wonders if they're all caught up in the holiday spirit, or if they're just happy to be together without the pressure of school and competition. Whatever the case, she can't help smiling and laughing right along with them, especially when Brittany gives her one of her big, patented Brittany hugs while Quinn whispers, "Happy holidays, Santana," in her ear. She hates to admit it, but she loves each and every one of these people, and she feels that love being returned right back, as only family can return it. Make no mistake, this is her second family – not one the person she once was would have chosen, but one the person she is now is grateful to have.
And then Rachel's standing there, and all the other faces and voices fade away, become background to her. She's mesmerized all over again by the way the candy cane dress hugs every curve of her lithe little body, by the way her smile is the brightest light in the room, by the way those mirth-filled brown eyes find her even in the midst of the chaotic crowd that's filled the room. It never fails to amaze her how Rachel's enormous personality is somehow contained by her small frame.
"Whoo, Rachel, look at you!" Tina shouts, pointing at Rachel, who does a little spin in response, laughing once again. "You look amazing, and that dress is hot! Did you spray it on, or what?"
"No spraying was required, but I can't say that it was easy to put on, either." She grins. "But I can say it wasn't cheap. Worth every penny, though!"
"I'll say," says Blaine, his eyes wide. He turns to Kurt, who's by his side as always. "Let me guess – this was the 'secret project' you and Mercedes had going with Rachel, right?"
"I'd like to take the credit," Kurt drawls, "but the truth is, Rachel saw it first, and Mercedes and I had to agree that it was perfect. It turns out that Rachel does get things right...sometimes."
Mercedes squeezes Rachel in a side hug. "Don't listen to him, girl. You look beautiful. Y'all know it's true – don't hate, appreciate!"
Rachel laughs, loud and heartily, soaking up the attention, reveling in the assorted hoots and hollers from the small crowd. "Thank you, Mercedes – but I think you're all being quite remiss in not acknowledging the sexiest, most beautiful Christmas elf ever." She points at Santana, who's still seated between Quinn and Brittany. Santana, in response, points at herself, as if to say, Who, me? "That's right, you, Santana. Stand up and show everybody how hot you are, come on!"
Santana gets up and steps over Sam and Mike, who had plopped down at her feet, to stand next to Rachel. She takes the space vacated by Mercedes, who's beckoned over to the couch by Brittany. The cheers get even louder as she gives them a slow full spin, the volume rising until she gestures for them to settle down, smiling wide in spite of herself. She really should be annoyed with everyone, but she can't find it in herself to be angry. Not here, not now. Not tonight.
Puck lets out a long, low whistle, shamelessly raking his eyes up and down Santana's curves in her elf outfit. "Damn, mamacita! You know what you are? You're a CEILF – that's a Christmas Elf I'd Like To – OWW! Artie, why'd you hit me, dude? I was just getting to the best part."
The wheelchair-bound boy smiles innocently, shaking the hand he'd used to punch Puck's arm. "Better me than Santana. I might leave a bruise, but Santana would leave scraps." Everybody laughs uproariously at this, even as Puck's face darkens with embarrassment.
"Oh, come on, Puck," Sam says. "You know it's true." The rest of the group nods in agreement.
Puck shrugs this off, glaring at the assembled glee clubbers. "Aw, I could take her. I'm still the biggest badass in Lima – and don't you losers forget it."
"You wish." Santana's voice is light. She knows this is just all just good-natured banter. "I'm the Christmas Elf you don't f – I mean, mess with."
"San's given up swearing," Brittany says. Santana facepalms, mortified. "I think it's cute."
"Britt!"
Rachel intervenes, sympathetically touching her girlfriend's shoulder. "That's not entirely true, Brittany. She's just swearing less. I'd never ask her to give it up completely."
"Babe?" Santana stage-whispers. "Not helping here."
"On a less relationship-impacting note," Artie begins, "I assume that one of you remembered to order us some food, right? Y'all know it takes a lot of energy to roll myself around in this chair all the time."
Before anyone can answer, the doorbell rings again. Rachel looks at Santana helplessly. The ex-Cheerio shrugs, and Rachel hurries over to answer it. Conversation resumes among the group, toned down to a low hum.
"Hello, Finn," they hear Rachel say. "Would you...would you like to come in?"
Looks of surprise and disbelief pass among the group. Things have been cordial between the tall quarterback and the object of his unrequited affection, but that's all they've been. Honestly, he's the last person they would have expected to show up at Rachel's door.
The lanky young man smiles sheepishly as he comes into view. "Hey, guys. Um, Kurt -" he looks at his clearly stunned stepbrother. "Mom told me you were here with Blaine, and, uh...I figured the rest of you would be here too." He turns to Rachel with a plea in his eyes, moves as if to put his hands on her shoulders, then lets them drop. "Look, Rachel – I know what I did that day in the choir room was wrong. I shouldn't have yelled at you the way I did, and I...I shouldn't have grabbed you like that either. Things have been weird between us ever since, and I get why. What I – what I'm trying to say is that I don't want it to be that way anymore."
Finn turns again, clears his throat, sorting out his thoughts, trying to assemble them into some kind of order. Moments like this have never been easy for him. His gaze finds Santana in the center of the group.
"Santana – I owe you an apology too. I hope you can forgive me, but I'll understand if you can't. I was an ass that day, to you as well as Rachel. It's obvious that you and Rachel really have something special going, and...and I just want you to know that I wish you both the best. And the rest of you – I know you've all kind of been freezing me out a little, ever since you heard about what happened. Can we just...can we let things go back to the way they used to be, please?"
Rachel looks up at him, knowing he's being completely genuine and sincere. This is the Finn she knew and liked so much, the Finn she considered to be such a good friend. The Finn she would like to have back in her life.
"I...I forgive you, Finn," she says. "It's clear you've spent a lot of time thinking about this, and I believe you're sincere. So, on that basis, I say we can now let bygones be bygones. This is a time for redemption, after all." She feels Santana's eyes on her, turns to meet her gaze. "Right, Santana?"
"If the Jolly Green Giant there says he's sorry..." Santana pauses. "Then yeah, I guess I forgive him too."
Mike and Sam stand up. They look to Puck, and a silent conversation passes between them. Mike nods at the blond boy, who nods at Puck. The others, in turn, all nod to each other, a silent court rendering its verdict. They figure he's learned his lesson by now.
"Well, don't just stand there," Puck says, stepping forward as a grin spreads across his face. "Get over here, dude!"
A cheer goes up, and Finn grins his famous lopsided grin as he wades into a deluge of back slaps, arm grabs and affectionate hugs. There are actually tears standing in his eyes. He wipes them away with the sleeve of his letterman's jacket. Even Santana wraps her arms around him, her head buried against his chest. She hears the happy beat of his heart, and in that moment she knows without question that she's done the right thing. Whatever anger she'd been holding against him is gone, and it feels as though a weight's been lifted from her spirit.
As the boisterous group begins to settle down, there's another insistent ring of the doorbell. Startled looks pass from one face to the next. There really isn't anyone left from the group who isn't already there; no one can figure out who this could possibly be. Rachel hurries over to answer it, and her squeal of delight gives them no clue as to who the visitor might be.
Looks of surprise turn to looks of total shock when they hear Mr. Schuester's voice from the other side of the door. "Hey, Rachel. Emma and I ran into your dads at the movies, and they asked me to let you know that they're going out for a late dinner with some of their friends." He steps inside, carrying several pizzas in his arms. Emma follows him, waving to the New Directions, all watching in disbelief. "They also asked me to keep an eye on you and the rest of the glee club, since they had a feeling all you guys would end up here somehow. Now who's up for some pizza?"
The giddy roar that follows is positively deafening, and it's all Mr. Schuester can do to get the pizzas safely on the kitchen table before he's attacked by the small mob of hungry teens.
When Rachel closes the door to her bedroom sometime later, the party is still in full swing downstairs. Everyone, even Emma and Mr. Schue, is having a great time. Santana, as they'd walked up the steps, reluctantly admitted that it had turned into a "kind of awesome" party, despite the fact that she would have preferred a much more intimate evening with her girlfriend. Rachel has to agree on both counts; this is not the way she'd imagined this night would go, but she wouldn't change it for anything.
Now the time has come for the whole reason she'd invited Santana over here in the first place. She bites her lip and ducks her head, looking at the beautiful ex-cheerleader almost shyly, as though she still can't believe that they're actually more than classmates, Glee Club members, or just friends. It's been an amazing last few months, and as the new year approaches, she finds herself looking forward to even more amazing things for herself and Santana.
"Not that I'm opposed to getting a little alone time with my favorite hobbit, but...there's a bunch of all-singing, all-dancing maniacs downstairs. You sure you want to take your eye off them?"
"I trust that Mr. Schue and Ms. Pillsbury have things well in hand. Besides, I've been wanting to spirit you away for some time now," Rachel says, crossing the space between them in a few steps to wrap her arms around Santana, pulling her in for a soft, sweet kiss. "I have one last present to give you, as you know."
"Mmm. I do. Does it involve me finally getting to take this dress off you?" Santana's low, sultry voice is so sexy that Rachel is seriously tempted to let her do just that, but she shakes her head 'no' instead, not trusting herself to answer verbally. "Not while everyone is still here. I get that."
Rachel backs away, crossing to the opposite side of the room, where her desk sits. Her laptop rests on top of it, along with a stack of notebooks, each one bearing a label denoting the subject to which it's been dedicated. Santana's always been amused by her girlfriend's mania for organization; she once found a pocket notebook containing lists of songs that Rachel had deemed perfect solo vehicles for each member of the New Directions, subdivided by genre and lyrical theme.
The petite diva retrieves something from a drawer, hiding it from Santana's curious gaze, and sits down on her bed, patting the space beside her as an invitation for Santana to sit as well. She'd much rather the two of them get into bed and under the covers, but clearly Rachel has something else in mind, so she figures she might as well find out what it is.
"Now, you have no doubt noticed over the course of this festival of Chanukah that my gifts to you have had a theme to them," Rachel begins. "There is, of course, a reason for that."
"Which is why I never should have left you alone in my room the other week with Netflix on," the former cheerleader grouses. "How was I to remember, in the midst of what we were doing, that you'd notice I hadn't watched Moana yet?"
"In addition to more than a handful of other Disney films, some classic, some more recent. I must say, Santana, that I never imagined you to be a secret member of the House of Mouse."
"And there's a reason for that. Who's going to take me seriously as a badass if they learn that my favorite movie is Beauty and the Beast, or that Stitch is my spirit animal?"
"Don't be silly, Santana. No one would think any less of you if they knew you were a Disney aficionado. I certainly don't, at any rate – hence the theme of all my gifts."
Santana listed the items in her mind, smiling in spite of herself; Rachel had probably crashed the Disney web site purchasing all that stuff. There'd been a T-shirt, a book, several CDs, even a couple of admittedly adorable figures of Belle and her paramour, the Beast himself. And now there was this, whatever it was. She couldn't deny being intensely curious, so she didn't bother to try and disguise the way her eyes darted around, looking for any clue as to what this final item might be.
"Yeah, yeah. Your noble heart is well known to all. Now show me what you've got behind your back, or I'll go all Lima Heights on your tiny, delectable ass."
"A threat and a compliment, all in one – impressive!" Rachel chuckles. "Okay, okay, look – in all seriousness, you may find this to be more than a bit much, but...you deserve this, Santana. We deserve this." She shifts her body so that she's facing Santana, an earnest, hopeful look on her face. "Merry Christmas," she says, and hands the large-ish envelope she's been holding behind her back to Santana.
It's a long envelope, almost weightless. There's no indication as to what it contains. Santana is puzzled, peering at it as though it might blow up in her face at any moment. Rachel's eager now. Excitement sparkles in her eyes. "Go ahead and open it, Santana."
She turns the envelope over and gently peels off the Little Mermaid sticker sealing it. Her long, strong fingers reach inside to find two rectangular items...items that feel suspiciously like...
"No. No way. You did not -" Santana's eyes are wide. It's been a long time since anything has truly shocked her, but this has her feeling like she did when she was a little girl, unwrapping her first Barbie doll house beside the Christmas tree. "No. You didn't."
"I did!" Rachel's bouncing on the bed now like a little kid, bursting with anticipation. "I did!"
Santana pulls the items out of the envelope, and for a moment, the shock and sheer amazement leave her almost blind. "I – I can't believe it! Two tickets...two...tickets to..." She's crying now, and she doesn't care, she's so happy. "OH MY GOD! Two tickets to DISNEY WORLD?!"
She's still got the tickets clutched in her hand when she launches herself at Rachel, squeezing her in a hug so tight it's almost like one of Brittany's. Rachel's laughing and crying at the same time, thrilled at her girlfriend's reaction. It's everything she'd hoped for and more. Santana only releases her from her hold because she needs to wipe her eyes clear. Rachel decides to take advantage of the break to explain a couple of things to her.
"Now, before you ask, Santana – yes, I've cleared this with both my dads and your parents as well. I used a chunk of the money I got for Chanukah from my grandparents and other relatives to buy the tickets. They're not creative gift-givers, to say the least, but this is the first and only time I've ever done anything with that money other than put it in my college fund. It's the first time I've had any reason to."
"Oh...oh, wow." Santana sniffles, still unable to believe what Rachel's done. "Nobody's ever done anything like this for me. I mean, I've always wanted to go there - but my parents, they work such long hours...whenever they get any vacation time, they basically use it to catch up on sleep. Rachel, I...I can't believe you did this!" She hugs Rachel again, more gently this time. Her heart feels full to bursting. "Thank you, mi amor. I love you so much."
"I love you too, Santana."
"You know that if all those Gleeks down there weren't here, I'd be ravishing you right now. You do know that, right?"
"Maybe I'd be the one ravishing you," Rachel laughs, wiping away her own tears.
"Well, who could blame you? I am the most awesomely hot Christmas elf ever."
"You are that. But you still might want to touch up your makeup before we go back downstairs."
Santana gets up to check herself out in the mirror above Rachel's dresser, winces at the reflection. "Oh, crap. You're right. I hate it when you're right." She throws the tickets and the envelope back on the bed. Rachel picks them up, gazes at them, her mind already moving forward in time to their trip.
"You won't be saying that when we're spending our imminent Christmas break walking around the world's greatest amusement park."
"Noted. All my stuff is still in your bathroom, right?"
"Of course. It was my idea for you to keep half of your supplies there, after all, since you spend so much time here."
"Remind me again why I do that?"
Rachel rises from the bed, gestures up and down her body in very suggestive, Santana-like way. "Oh, don't worry - I'll remind you," she purrs. "I'll remind you so well, you won't know what hit you."
"Damn, short stack. I loves me some feisty Berry." Santana hurries into Rachel's en suite bathroom. "I'll just be a minute. Don't go downstairs without me."
"I wouldn't dream of it. Now hurry up! I can't wait to share our big news with everyone."
"And there's some bossy Berry to boot. Mraow."
"Go!" Rachel laughs, sorting through her own makeup, neatly organized on top of her dresser. "I've got some touching up to do myself." She grabs a tissue and gets to work.
Several minutes later, Rachel and Santana reappear among the small throng of Glee Clubbers, all clustered together. Ms. Pillsbury and Mr. Schuester are seated on the couch, each with a slice of pizza in hand, surrounded by the rest of the New Directions, talking, laughing, smiling. Finn is high fiving, in order, Puck, Sam and Mike, clearly grateful to be back in the club's good graces. Brittany's got her arm around Quinn's shoulder, sharing some of her unique wisdom with the other Cheerio, no doubt – no one else can leave Quinn breathless with laughter, as she appears to be at the moment. Artie's chatting amiably with Tina, the Asian girl kneeling beside his wheelchair. She can even hear – if just barely - Mercedes, Kurt and Blaine singing quietly in another corner of the spacious living room, all holding what's probably their fifth cup of Mountain Dew.
Rachel can't imagine anything better than this, celebrating the holidays with her friends. Then she looks at Santana and amends her thought.
There's one thing better than this, she thinks. When Santana takes her hand and squeezes it, she knows her girlfriend is thinking the very same thing.