Catch My Eye

She wakes with him curled around her, his nose in her hair and his snores in her ear. There is ice on his window and Rachel traces the patterns from across the room, her finger gliding through the air and a satisfied smile on her lips.

She tucks herself closer to Finn and contemplates settling down for a doze until the eventual call for breakfast from Carole when a sudden thought of how ridiculous her hair must look strikes her. How her breath must smell. This was not a downside she'd previously considered when she went to bed with Finn the night before. She didn't want their first morning together marred by, well, reality.

So she attempts to ease away from her still asleep boyfriend with every intention of brushing her hair and teeth before returning and feigning like she never left the bed when he wakes up.

Of course it doesn't play out like that. When she's only just settled her feet on the floor next to his bed, Finn opens his eyes and asks her in a raspy voice where she's going.

Her fingers fly to her hair and she attempts to causally comb through it while slowly moving back toward the bathroom. She smiles as wide as she can without showing teeth and chokes out some excuse about needing to use the restroom.

Finn frowns. "Oh. Okay." Then it dissolves into a soft smile as he takes in the sight of her. "Just come back soon, alright?"

She bites her lip, forgetting for a moment about her task and says, "Always for you."

When she returns with everything neatly brushed and unsightly crusties wiped from the corners of her eyes, Finn just wordlessly pulls her back into his arms. His thumb strokes her cheek slowly and she feels her lips curl into a smile. His smile; the one she reserves for moments like this when they can bask in their own little world.

Inevitably the household shudders awake, footsteps in the hall that were soon followed by sleepy mutterings and Finn sighs when the knock comes to his door. Kurt's voice wryly informs them to untangle themselves and get ready.

He nuzzles her neck, brings his lips to her cheek for a quick kiss before dragging himself from her embrace to stumble into the bathroom. When she hears the shower come on she has to fight the impulse to join him - she can't let this new level of intimacy throw her into an even deeper one so soon. Finn and her had been careful this time around not to rush things… in the three months since they'd been back together, everything had been focused on rebuilding trust.

She didn't want to put it at risk by jumping him in the shower and possibly setting them back into the awkward, quiet phase where they just didn't know what to say to each other.

Ten minutes later, Finn exits the bathroom, dressed in a pair of jeans and rubbing his wet hair with a towel.

Rachel looks at his chest and swallows. Finn, oblivious, smiles at her and says, "I don't think I've ever slept as well then with you here."

The urge to jump him multiplies. Instead she just tries to kiss him senseless.

They're both well on their way to that when Kurt bangs on the door and tells them he won't hesitate to return again with a bucket of slush from outside.

Finn puts on a shirt and she shimmies into a pair of jeans and puts on a clean top. He curls a hand around hers and tugs her out of his bedroom and down the hallway. She can't help but pull him down for a kiss at his grin of delight when the tree comes into view. She really did appreciate the sight and, no, not just for Finn, though he played a big part in it. Honestly, as a child she'd been jealous when all her classmates went home for winter break and she knew that Santa would just skip her house, year after year. Obviously, she'd reasoned, Santa was biased against her people, the Jews. (After all, Noah was vocal in his complaints about this as well, so she knew it wasn't just her.) It wasn't until she asked her fathers if they had grounds to sue that the two men had explained why all the other kids were visited by "Santa".

Over time, though, Christmas had become about her friends, and how they welcomed her in with their carols and joy. When Finn had invited her over two weeks ago for tree trimming on Christmas Eve (shyly asking if she'd stay for Christmas morning as well), she'd known that this was bigger than carols and presents and friendship. Finn loved this holiday… it represented so many things he held dear. Like her.

"Merry Christmas, Finn."

"Merry Christmas, Rachel." He squeezed her hand. "Thank you for the present."

She tilted her head and laughed, "You haven't even opened it yet!"

"Yeah, well, either way I got exactly what I want." He's watching her intently.

She ducks her head. They're standing close to each other when both hear an exasperated sigh from the kitchen doorway. Kurt is standing there, arms crossed and right foot tapping impatiently. "As lovely as this scene is, could you save it for another time when I'm not hungry or when mom will let us eat without waiting for the two of you?"

Rachel smiles and ruffles his hair as she walks past, giggling when he bats her hand away and makes a disgruntled sound. "Remind me again why my brother tolerates you?"

"My charming personality, of course!" She chirps.

Finn shrugs. "I love her."

Kurt rolls his eyes and takes his seat at the kitchen table, where Burt and Carole are already seated and watching with amusement.

Midway through breakfast, after Burt asks her to pass the hashbrowns and Kurt hides the saltshaker, Carole leans over and tells her how wonderful it is to have her over. Burt grunts his agreement while Kurt just pats her hand before slapping his father's away from the butter.

Finn grins and plays with the ends of her hair.

Rachel has to agree with Carole; it really is wonderful to be here.

Santa, obviously, is making up for lost time.

Author's Note: Written for my Secret Santa on LJ. I managed to put this off until the day it was due. Probably because Finn/Rachel is not high on my list of ships to write and I kept panicking about how the hell I was going to write a couple I had no experience with - plus make it fluffy. I write angst and drama. Fluff is foreign to me.

Still, I think it turned out alright.