Merry Christmas and Happy New Year's, Rachel — Part I
December 23, 2012 — 5:00 a.m.
"There's money in the kitchen—"
"A spare house key on the key rack—"
"The laundry's done—"
"Don't forget to pick up the mail—"
"Dad! Daddy!" Rachel interrupts, laughing gently as her two fathers bustle in the entryway to gather their entire luggage. They pause once their daughter breaks through their rants, Leroy's bag strap barely on shoulder and Hiram holding up a suitcase to hand over to his partner.
"This isn't the first time you will be leaving me home alone for a week and two days," she explains, dancing over to place her dad's bag strap the rest of the way onto his shoulder and place a small kiss on his cheek.
"Yes, but we feel bad that we're leaving you for Christmas and," her daddy counters, halting to let Rachel kiss him on the cheek as well, "New Year's. We feel bad. Are you sure you don't want to come along? We can pay for another ticket; ours were free!"
"No, it'll be fine," Rachel says, smiling, holding her hands together in front of her.
"Well, we'll call you Christmas morning and on January 1st, alright?" Rachel's dad says over his shoulder as he opens the door.
"Sure," Rachel agrees. She pulls her bathrobe she always wears in the mornings tighter around her shoulders. A cold draft swept through as soon as the front door opened and it was biting, the perfect temperature for snow if they were ever so lucky to get the weather for it. It snowed some a couple days ago but the sun had been out since then and melted most of it away. Now it was just wet and gross and cold out and Rachel couldn't be bothered to even go for a run anymore.
Helping with them with a suitcase, Rachel follows her fathers down the damp sidewalk to their car, wondering what possessed her to forget putting on her fuzzy slippers. As she's walking, her fathers a couple paces ahead, chatting excitedly and both hands preoccupied with other luggage, there's a small snap and Rachel yelps.
"Something wrong, darling?" Hiram asks, looking over his glasses at Rachel behind them.
Looking where she just stepped, she sees a little piece of white paper-like material that flutters away in the breeze and some small rocks. Looking up, she smiles reassuringly and passes it off with, "Just a rock that surprised me, everything is alright."
Leroy and Hiram pop the trunk to their car and expertly load their bags as they have done many times before to go on cruises their jobs had offered free tickets for. They have done his enough to know just how to arrange their belongings to take up the least amount of space and keep their clothing and footwear from being disturbed in their suitcases. Rachel sets the bag she was carrying down and again, wraps her bathrobe tight around her. After a moment, Leroy straightens up from his work, turns to see Rachel shivering slightly, and wraps a jacketed arm around her shoulders.
"You can go inside, Rachel," he says, putting another kiss on the top of her head. "It's really cold outside."
"No, I'd like to see you both leave," Rachel says, smiling up at the tall man. He returns the smile just as his partner sighs triumphantly and finishes with their last suitcase, shutting the trunk. Hiram turns and claps his hands together, ready to get on the road by the look of his grin.
"We'll call, remember," Hiram says, squeezing Rachel's small shoulder. "Let's go, Le!"
After a hug from both of her fathers, Rachel stays where she stands to watch them get into their car, start up the engine, and wave out their windows as they pull out of the driveway. She waves as they turn and head off down the dim street, seeing as it's still early in the morning, and then they disappear behind the next row of houses, on their way to their cruise.
Without even moving, another snap sounds and Rachel jumps, pulling her left foot away from a momentary spark of pain. Looking down, she sees the same white paper-like material and the little rocks spilling out of it, and stooping to pick it up, she realizes what it is just as she stands and turns to the face the direction she guessed the—
"Snappers!" Pucks exclaims, standing from the bushes he was hiding in near the front of the house. He holds out a little cellophane bag of sawdust and snappers as he approaches Rachel, a grin wide on his face. Once he's near, Rachel takes one from the bag and throws it at his chest. It merely bounces off and lands between his feet with another pop.
"What are you doing here?" Rachel asks incredulously with a ghost of a smile on her face. To think Puck had been sitting in her bushes for God knows how long with his little bag of fireworks so he could tease Rachel as she helps her dads leave is kind of funny… and just like him. Besides his nose being a little red, he seems to have weathered the cold pretty well.
"A guy like me tends to know when his hot little Jewish American Princess's dads are out of town," he drawls out, smirking as he takes another snapper and throws it at Rachel's still bare feet. She wasn't planning on staying outside long and now it was really beginning to affect her.
"Yes, because I told you!" Rachel replies, smacking his hand away. She shifts on her feet and then groans, "Just come inside, I can't feel my toes."
"I was going to anyways," Puck says, wounding a thick arm around Rachel's neck and practically dragging her up to her house, bag of snappers being tucked away into his jacket pocket. "So what do you have planned for Christmas?"
"Well, my dads did leave my presents under the tree for me to open Christmas morning," Rachel says loosely as they step back through the door and into the welcoming warmth of her house. Puck shrugs off his fur-lined jacket and hangs it on the coat rack before kicking off his muddy boots besides the door. "But I was just going to have a quiet morning, make myself a nice breakfast—"
"Whoa, quiet?" Puck interrupts, laughing a bit. He passes Rachel and goes into the kitchen, leaving the little diva to follow behind. In the kitchen, Puck picks through the remainders of breakfast on the stove that her fathers made, which meant it was actual food and not vegan substitute. "First off, you know I'm going to be here, one way or another. Mom's more than likely going to be off bar-hopping so I can just grab my two presents and bring them over here."
"Three," Rachel says, hiding a smile as she sits at her family's little round table and takes another bite of what's left of her little vegan breakfast.
"Three?" Puck repeats, leaning against the counter with a fork of eggs stalled before his mouth.
"Three," Rachel affirms, looking up, a smile on her face. "Did you really think I wouldn't get you something?"
After a moment, Puck tosses the fork onto the egg pan and takes a couple giant strides through the small kitchen, closing the distance between them to cup the back of Rachel's head and put a strong kiss on her forehead. He finishes with a loud smack and collapses into a seat opposite Rachel, a big smile on his face that Rachel only ever gets the chance to see. "Thanks, Rache."
"Of course," Rachel says, beaming now even as she takes her last bite of cooled veggies. Then suddenly, Puck slaps a hand somewhat angrily down on the table. "What?"
"I didn't get you anything," he says, lifting the same hand to bite on his thumb nail, a habit he does when he's thinking Rachel's come to realize. He sits forward, digging into the back pocket of his jeans, and pulls out his wallet. Looking up, a couple fingers in the slot where he keeps his money, he asks, "How much was my present?"
"Noah," Rachel says, tilting her head. "You don't have to pay me for the present I bought you."
Puck grumbles and puts his wallet back, back to biting his nail. As Rachel is standing to put her dish in the sink and start on cleaning the stove, Puck spins in his chair, smile alight.
"I know how I can break even," he says, voice louder with anticipation.
"Yes?" Rachel says without looking at the Mohawk-ed boy. She picks up a scrubber and starts cleaning off the egg pan underneath a spray from the faucet, soap suds building up where she passes over.
"I'll host a party! Here!"
The brush Rachel is cleaning with slips and the sleeve of her bathrobe dips into the dirty water. Slapping the faucet off, Rachel turns with a hard expression and crosses her arms over her chest, feeling a drip from her sleeve hit her bare foot. They're still cold.
"What?" Puck asks innocently, seeing the expression and dropping his.
"The last time we had a party here, I made out with Blaine, half my dads' liquor cabinet was empty and only miraculously stocked the night before the morning they returned home, and my show room basement was trashed. Besides, how will that be breaking even with the present I bought you?"
"Okay, look," Puck starts, standing and approaching the brunette. He places a hand on her shoulder and looks down at her. The look that passes his features reminds Rachel of when someone loses their train of thought. "Damn, you're so short."
"Noah…"
"Okay, listen," he starts again, shaking his head, "Finn is a dipshit. He may have been DD that night but that didn't stop him from not looking out for you. You got drunk and that's why you made out with a gay dude. With me, I can make sure that doesn't happen again. As for your dads' liquor cabinet, I still pulled through, didn't I?" He looks at Rachel expectantly until she rolls her eyes and nods. "It may have been a close call, but I still held out and your dads were none the wiser. Lastly, I promise I will clean your entire house—"
"My entire house?" Rachel cuts, eyes widening at the prospect of the party not being limited to downstairs.
"Well, yeah, there's going to be too many people for down—"
"Who else are you thinking of inviting, Noah?" Rachel stops him again, voice rising. She slips from between him and the sink still full of dirty water and half cleaned dishes, needing air.
"Well, just a couple more people and the Glee club," Noah says, voice dropping in comparison. When Rachel gets angry or even a fraction of angry, it can be a scary sight for someone so small. Puck's been on the receiving end of her anger, just once, and he'd rather not have to be again
"You still haven't proven how this will be a present for me," Rachel says, voice returning to normal though her eyes are now narrowed suspiciously.
"I get to invite Quinn," he says.
With that name, Rachel's heart stutters and her lips part in what would the smallest of a gaping mouth. A million thoughts run through her head and the more they begin to process from the rest, the more she feels the symptoms of panic kicking in. Of course Noah is her best friend, has been for a while after all they have gone through sophomore and junior year, and she tells him almost everything. But that's it; she tells him almost everything. What she hasn't told Noah, the one thing she hasn't told him or anyone else, are the very confusing and inappropriate feelings she has for one recently back-to-blonde, ex-Cheerio who has only become her friend in the simplest meanings of the term. They're confusing because up until she realized she harbored feelings for Quinn, she thought she liked boys. They're confusing because Quinn has been her tormenter since the day high school started until she finally convinced the tall girl to dye back her awful pink hair and join Glee club again. They're confusing because despite their history, Rachel never hated Quinn when she was sure Quinn hated her and how can you have feelings for someone who used to ridicule every chance they got? They're just confusing and if there is one person she wishes she could discuss it with, it would be Noah, but she has never had the courage to tell him. But now, it seems like he's the one who's about to tell her.
Abruptly, gentle arms are wrapping around her shoulders and Puck is pulling her into a hug. His mouth is on the top of her head as he speaks, "Look, Rache, I know. You don't have to tell me… I read your diary."
"Noah!" Rachel snaps, pushing the bulky teen from their hug even though he was just trying to be comforting. "When have you ever read my diary?"
"The night I snuck in through your window," he says, eyes wide like he couldn't believe he admitted that himself. He might've wanted to admit the part about knowing about Quinn but not where he got the information from. "My mom was missing and I didn't want to sleep in that hellhole if I could help it, so when I climbed through your window, I saw you hiding your diary in the drawer at your desk. Once you were asleep… I read a couple pages."
"Noah Puckerman!" Rachel shrieks, planting a hand over her chest like what she's hearing is actually painful. Instead, her face is flushed with heat and panic is soon drowned out by embarrassment. "How could you?"
"Rachel, it's no big deal!" Noah says, holding up his hands. "Everything but Quinn I knew about anyways! I just wanted to see if you had any dirty thoughts about me—"
"You're like my brother, Noah."
"I know that! Anyways, like I said, there's nothing to be embarrassed about. I knew everything you were writing about in your diary until I came across mentions of Quinn. It just so happened that same night, you wrote a real entry about her and it finally clicked."
With a deep sigh, Rachel moves to her chair and sits down in it, hiding her face in folded arms atop the table. She can hear Puck's heavy socks pad across the tile of the kitchen and then feels the table flex as he sits in his seat across from her and leans on the top.
"It's okay, Rachel." His voice is soft and understanding. "I wasn't disgusted or thought anything less of Santana when everyone found out she was a lesbian. It's even more important to me because you're the closest I got to a family."
Rachel lifts her head from the table at his words, seeing his dark eyes somber as they look at her. He reaches across the table and finds her hand beneath her arm, pulling it out to stroke a rough thumb over the back of her palm. He gives a half-hearted smile, just wanting Rachel to know he understands, and they sit in comfortable silence for a little bit until Rachel can find her voice.
"You are never allowed in my room again," Rachel says, laughing a little to herself as she wipes her eyes where tears of humiliation had begun to collect. Pucks groans jokingly but breaks into a small smile. If Rachel is talking, then it didn't matter what she says as long as she isn't closing up to him. "And I'm not gay. Well, a little but then I'm just bisexual. I don't know, I've never thought about it before."
"It's alright," Puck speaks up, thumb still running over Rachel's smooth hand. "You don't have to. It's new and different, so it can be scary. Everyone was scared for Santana but you have me and I can be all the support you need, no one else has to find out. Us Jews need to stick together."
Rachel gives another watery laugh and sniffs.
"So, yes or no?" Pucks inquires gently, referring to the party. He ducks his head to catch Rachel's eyes again.
It's stupid of Rachel to ever think she couldn't talk to Puck about this sort of thing. Sure, to everyone else, he is the biggest badass of them all, with a supposed thick shell and a habit for having sex with anything that moves and has a heartbeat. But to the very few who are close to him and can get under his hard skin, he is loyal and sweet and the girls that rank highest in his life are Beth, Rachel, and Quinn. He will do anything for them and he has proven that to Rachel more times than she can count, even if he has his own way of doing things.
"Yes," Rachel finds herself saying. The next thing she knows, Puck is scooting his chair around the table and puts an arm around her again, pulling against his side and hugging her. It's still early in the morning and with her head tucked beneath his chin, his warm breath washing over her shoulder, she closes her eyes and is out like a light.
The doorbell rings and Rachel jolts up. A blanket is wrapped around her waist and she is still wearing her night clothes and bathrobe. Glancing at the big mirror on the other side of the living room from where she's sitting up on the couch, her hair is all mussed up and she's breathing quickly in surprise. Was it Christmas Eve already?
Jumping to her feet, she re-ties her bathrobe and hurries to the front door when Puck bounds down the stairs. He spots Rachel hurrying over before he opens the door and smiles, "Good morning, Princess!"
"What day is it?" Rachel asks breathlessly, matting down her hair the best she can before they answer the door. She can hear a voice on the other side and tries to look through the peephole.
"The same day, Rache— the 23rd," Puck explains like it's obvious and she didn't just wake up from a morning nap, all disoriented. He reaches in front of her and opens the door, revealing only Sam Evans.
"Hey, man!" Puck greets, gripping fists with the blonde boy as he steps inside and kicks off his equally muddy shoes besides Puck's.
"What—" Rachel tries to ask but Sam's big jacket is muffling her as he hugs her tightly. Then he steps past her and shrugs off his jacket, a case of Miller Light in one hand, which Puck takes gratefully, and inside his jacket, a couple packages of fireworks.
"Why do you have fireworks?" Rachel asks, following dumbly behind the two boys as they move back into the kitchen.
"I invited Sam over to help me with planning the party for tomorrow," Puck says giddily, taking a beer and cracking the top off. Before he can take a drink, Rachel snatches the bottle from his hand, "It's three in the afternoon!"
Puck shrugs but Sam speaks up, "I brought some party favors over early. And about the fireworks… what kind of holiday doesn't have fireworks, let alone a party?" He whoops and high-fives Puck, resulting in an eye roll from Rachel as she puts the opened beer in the refrigerator.
"So what is on the agenda for today?" Sam asks, sitting in the third seat of the three at the table. Rachel joins the two of them at the table, hands in her lap as Puck takes a notepad he has stuck in the waistband of his jeans and a pen from behind his ear.
"We only have a day before the party, and even though the last one here went without a hitch… after we got the booze, there still needs to be more alcohol for this one," Puck starts, pointing out a bullet of scratchy handwriting.
"Why do we need more alcohol?" Rachel asks, leaning over to get a better look at the notepad.
"Because there are some drinks in your fathers liquor cabinet that cannot be replaced or would be very hard and expensive to. I've already went through and made a list of inventory as to which ones we can drink and which ones need to be locked up again."
"While I was asleep?" Rachel asks, looking up and narrowing her eyes again. Puck flashes a charming smile before returning to the list. "Wait, it was locked… did you pick the lock, Puck?"
"Sam, we need two more cases of beer for extra measure, Solo cups because Rache's supply is weak, ping pong balls, duct tape, and Christmas-themed party decorations," Puck instructs, ignoring Rachel's questions.
"My dads and I already put up Christmas decorations," Rachel says but upon looking up, the kitchen was nearly bare of said decorations. "Where are the decorations?"
"I took them down and stored them neatly so they wouldn't be ruined and your dads wouldn't notice there was ever a party," Puck explains, tearing off the list he said prior to hand over to Sam. Sam looks over the list, an adorable smile coming to his big mouth, and he absently runs a hand through his bangs that had begun to fall into his eyes.
"How long have I been asleep?" Rachel asks rhetorically, standing to look at the living room again.
Out of the kitchen, she can see what all Puck has done since she passed out. Her house looks like it wasn't prepared for the holidays and she notes that a couple of the more expensive paintings and items throughout are missing, more than likely stowed away as Puck had said before. Backtracking, Rachel goes up to her room, expecting to see something different but finding there is nothing out of place. She even checks her drawer and her diary is right where she placed it; perfectly aligned in the back right corner with her pen placed directly on top. Shutting her drawer, she shrugs her shoulders, take a deep breath, and goes into the bathroom for a shower, deciding it best to just leave the boys to their work. Once under the warm jet of water, she can feel the tension and panic from earlier in the morning melt off her shoulders. It's like a weight has been taken off her chest at finally being able to talk to Puck about Quinn. As she starts to lather her hair with shampoo, she closes her eyes and soon imagines its Quinn's fingers that are scratching lightly along her scalp, Quinn's palms massaging her neck, Quinn's body that's keeping her warm instead of just the water of the shower. Rachel steps under the spray and washes away the shampoo from her hair and face, running her hands down her stomach. She conditions her hair and gets as far as scrubbing down her body, idly thinking about her house after the party and what different scenarios between her and Quinn might play out, when there's a knock on the locked bathroom door.
"Sam went back out to get the stuff on the list," comes Puck's muffled voice. Rachel wipes water from her eyes to make sure he isn't peeping and then says back, "Okay, I'll be out soon!"
"Don't forget to shave!" Puck laughs until he yelps at the sound of an empty lather bottle hitting the door.
Ten more minutes and Rachel steps back into her bedroom, hair up in a towel, one wrapped over her chest. She moves to her wardrobe when she notices the one drawer is slightly open, and she always makes sure to have them properly shut. Looking around, she notices the underwear and sweatpants laid out for her on her made bed, and with a sigh and a smile she can't help, she changes into the chosen clothing before taking her hair out to air-dry.
Downstairs, Puck is in the kitchen, putting away cleaned dishes from the dishwasher. Rachel rubs the towel in her hair still as she watches Puck act the perfect image of a father, putting away silverware and cleaning up the counters. After a few minutes, Puck looks up and gives a smile that says he is only just realizing he's been watched.
"How long have you been standing there?" he asks, shutting the empty dishwasher.
"Long enough," Rachel states, throwing the towel over the back of a chair, "You're really going all out, aren't you?"
"Trying," he sighs, sitting in his chair and wiping his face. "It's going to be a bigger party so it needs more preparation. Dude, I should be a party planner."
Rachel laughs, not bothering to explain what an actual party planner really plans. Puck pulls out the notepad again and looks through the list before smiling wide and leaning back in his seat, holding his hands behind his head. His warm eyes drift back to the brunette.
"Want to order something to eat? By the time it gets here, Sam should be back."
"That sounds good," Rachel agrees, standing and opening a drawer near the refrigerator. She pulls out a Chinese menu, looks over the vegan options she's highlighted, and deciding one of them sounds delectable, shuts the drawer and hands it over for Puck to browse. He takes the menu and lays it out on the table, reading, as Rachel heads back upstairs real quick to grab her phone. She has two messages, one from each of her fathers but both saying they love her and to be safe. She chuckles and turns the screen back off, joining Puck once more just as he's dialing the number to order.
After the order is placed, Puck throws his phone back down on the table and eyes Rachel.
"What?" she asks, narrowing her own brown eyes.
"Just thinking about the best way to get you and Q together tomorrow night," he says slowly, as though he is thinking.
Rachel leans across the table to serve a punch to his arm. "I'm not like you, Noah."
"Oh, come on, Rache," he says, rubbing his arm where she pegged him, "you're pretty hot."
Another punch is delivered to the other arm.
"Okay, okay! But what are you going to do?"
Color returns to Rachel's cheeks as her stomach does a nervous roll. What is she going to do? Not trusting her voice, which is an odd thing for her, she shrugs.
"Awh, Rachel's shy," Puck teases, his turn to reach across and pinch at Rachel's arms. She swats his hands away before saying, "I just don't know how to bring… anything up."
"Dude, you always know what to say," Puck says, leaning back in his chair, "even if we don't want to hear it."
"I'm not going to be annoying at my own party," Rachel counters, frowning slightly. On a second thought, "Or get too drunk."
"But you have to drink," Puck says, taking the beer bottle cap from earlier and spinning it on the table.
"I do need some liquid courage, yes," Rachel admits, watching the cap spin.
"No worries, it's like math," Puck starts, letting the cap fall from its spin. "Two buzzed chicks equals one drunk pair."
"What kind of math is that?"
"Like fractions. One half plus one half equals one whole."
"Either I hang out with you too much or that actually makes sense."
"I call it a Fractions Method," Puck says, smirking. "Say there are four girls. All four of them get buzzed but together they equal a drunken quadruplet. Now say three of the girls get buzzed and one stays sober. That fraction that still has a voice of reason is not part of the quadruplet. Also, she counts as a buzz kill and the rest have to suffer."
"You're an idiot."
"Thank you, I designed it myself."
"Puck, you owe 14.30," Sam's voice says from the entryway. Puck stands, pulling out his wallet, as Sam walks into the kitchen carrying their Chinese dinner. He selects a box that has "vegan" written across the top to place in front of Rachel with a smile. A moment later, Puck joins them and grabs the box that has his order written out on top.
"What are we talking about?" Sam asks as he sits down and opens a box of fried shrimp and rice. He digs a fork in and shovels an amount into his large mouth.
"The Fractions Method," Puck says nonchalantly, picking at his Bang Bang Ji, before putting some of the chicken in his mouth with the green paste. He hums in delight and stabs another piece to shove into his mouth. Rachel sighs shortly through her nose at the boys' eating habits.
Sam nods in understanding and takes another bite of his rice before standing and opening the fridge. Rachel shakes her head at wondering how Sam understands this "method" when Sam returns with Puck's previously opened beer and one for himself.
"Aren't we going to save those for the party?" Rachel asks, eyeing them as they take a swig.
"We have plenty of other drinks," Puck says, taking another bite of his food. "We can have two beers, Rache."
Rachel shrugs as she eats her crispy skin tofu.
The rest of the day is spent with the three of them redecorating the house with Sam's tacky Christmas party decorations and storing what drinks need to be refrigerated and the others in a cabinet with the Solo cups. Puck finds a plastic table from the garage to use for beer pong and after he sets it up in a corner of the living room, he and Sam play a round with a couple bottles of Smirnoff Ice Sam found in his basement after grabbing some clothes to inevitably stay the night. Sam wins the game though it could be supposed that Puck just wanted to drink. Meanwhile, Rachel finds them a crappy Christmas movie on Lifetime and has it playing on the TV in the background as they put away the last of the household items they deem too valuable to be broken. When the last of the details are just being primped, Puck slumps into the couch, polishing off the last of his beer from earlier, and pulls out his phone.
"Time to start spreading the word," Puck announces, his voice holding a devious lilt to it. Rachel sits on the couch beside him and rolls her eyes, but watches as he selects every contact in his phone that doesn't include parents, work, or school, and fires off the same message about a Christmas Party Bash at the Berry Residence, including her address and the mention of music, booze and food, and no last calls, much to Rachel's chagrin. Sam finishes with decorations upstairs and strides over to join them on the couch, pulling out his phone after an "oh!" of realization and doing the same with all his contacts, excluding the few. Rachel doesn't have a lot of contacts because she doesn't do this thing often, so she sits patiently, wondering what Quinn could be thinking once she gets a message of her own inviting her to the party. Would she even come?
A/N: This begins the first part of four for this short story. Hoping to have it all finished before and maybe just after New Year's. It's going to be hard though, I mean, I have to cover a week and three days in just a couple hours. Wish me luck, my loves!
-x
p.s. I hope I haven't confused anyone with the changes I did earlier. I'm blonde, I had to change some things around so it got messed up. Oh well.