A/N: Congratulations! My knuckles bend backwards now, but I managed to write this for you guys. This is not the sequel to JOTKOR, just the "1000 word, random, fluffy one-shot" that I said I'd write when Faberry won that poll. It's 1500 words too long because I have no self-control.
Fuzzy Red Reindeer
Preparing a gingerbread house for a Christmas part is like going into a final exam knowing you're going to fail, but still willing to throw whatever you can scrape together down on that paper just so that you can say you finished. You may leave the room with a sense of "Jesus Christ, why did we ever try this?" and "this was a horrible idea."
Because gingerbread houses could not be constructed without some kind of professional architect.
They just never turn out how they're supposed to. Not that Rachel had made an inordinate amount of gingerbread houses in her lifetime, but she'd never seen one in real life that didn't like a two year old's craft project. Which had been melted, blenderized, and set on fire.
Quinn was attempting to argue differently, and she was waving the box around in Rachel's face to do so.
It was a game of deceit. The box would always show an image of an immaculately decorated, sturdy dwelling that Rachel wouldn't think twice about entering if she was the size of a gingerbread man.
"You are the size of a gingerbread man." Quinn said with a grin, dumping the contents of the box out onto the table and going straight for the gum drops.
People would see the box and go, "Oh look at that adorable little snow-covered wonderland." And then two hours later they'd be crying and yelling, and the decorations and gingerbread would be in the trash.
Rachel poked Quinn in the ribs and grabbed the gum drops away from her. Before they were inhaled. They needed them to decorate the crap shack that was being constructed. Quinn wasn't allowed to eat their hardware until everything went to hell and collapsed.
It was only a matter of time.
"It would be cool to live in a gingerbread house." Quinn stated, kneading the bags of icing with both hands, brow furrowed in concentration. "Or just…a candy house in general."
So that when it inevitably caved in on them they could just eat their way out.
Rachel hummed. She went back to looking at the directions.
Place roof at a forty-five degree angle on top of the load-bearing anterior and posterior walls.
Well. Fuck the directions. Rachel folded them up and set them aside. Where had Quinn even found this gingerbread house? NASA?
"I'd love to live in a house made of chocolate." Quinn continued. She started rocking a little, trying to keep the icing steady in her hand. Rachel bit her cheek to keep from laughing. Quinn was getting excited. Working herself up over houses made of food.
"Or one made of cheese." Quinn stopped trying to frost the door on to where the window was supposed to go, and looked seriously at Rachel. "Gummy bears. A house made of gummy bears…Or Starburst…"
"Cookies." Rachel said with a smile, plucking the door off the house.
Quinn's eyes widened, and then she gasped. "Macaroni and cheese!"
Rachel grimaced. A house made of cooked macaroni and cheese would turn into a sloppy stinkpile of crap. Which was probably the direction the gingerbread house was heading.
"I'll make you a cheese house if you finish this, baby." Rachel remarked jokingly.
She pointed at the icing and Quinn went back to work, still rocking excitedly. Rachel watched her and smiled. It was Christmas Eve, the fifth day of Hanukkah, and so far Quinn had accumulated new fuzzy socks for her reptile feet, a wooly hat with a lion's mane and fluffy tassels, and a polar bear named Bobble that Rachel had "adopted" from the zoo.
Rachel had earrings that matched Quinn's bear necklace and an endless supply of vegan peanut butter cookies.
Quinn would sit on the floor every night with the dogs, feeding them candy canes and marshmallows and listening to Rachel talk about the Berry family traditions. Making sure Rachel didn't burn down the apartment when lighting the candles on the menorah.
Even though Quinn was probably the least qualified person to do so. She'd comforted poor, fat George after Rachel had traumatized him by throwing a flaming napkin in his direction on the second day.
"Rachel," Quinn said urgently, standing up now and hunched over the table, "my walls are coming down."
If you could call those walls.
Rachel watched the cookie crumble. She expected nothing less from gingerbread houses.
"Here. Glue them back together with frosting." She said, handing Quinn the green and red tubes. Quinn took them and poised herself like a surgeon.
Frosting could solve all problems. Mend all cracks. Glue anything back together.
Except gingerbread.
Butter jumped up and started prancing her fat ass over the bags of decorations, looking for some attention. She sent some gummy worms cascading to the floor, and Rachel shoved her away and glanced at the clock. One hour to finish the house before their friends would arrive for the Christmas Eve party.
Quinn had icing on her face, hands, shirt, and arms as she scrambled to keep the house together. Unfortunately, no amount of dedication could stop a gingerbread roof from caving in.
~oooooooooo~
"Frosty the snowman, had a very shiny nose, with a corncob pipe and bright red eyes and a mouth that's made of rolls."
Wait.
Rachel stopped in her tracks. She knew that voice. That drunken voice spectacularly mashing up "Frosty the Snowman" and "Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer" with baked goods belonged to her girlfriend. Rachel put her drink down and backtracked to where Quinn and Sam were standing in the doorway to the kitchen.
Or frolicking. Frolicking in the doorway looking like a couple of fools. They had antlers on their heads. Sam was sporting a bright red Rudolph nose.
Quinn's eyes lit up when she saw Rachel.
"Little Bear! Sing with me!" she exclaimed, stepping past her reindeer friend and reaching out a hand.
Rachel took it. Mostly so Quinn wouldn't fall down. Quinn started singing again before she could say anything.
"Thumpetty thump thump, thumpetty thump thump, look at Rudolph go."
Rachel started laughing. She put a finger over Quinn's lips to get her to stop. She was very loud. Probably the loudest Rachel had ever heard her.
"You're mashing up songs, baby." She said with a chuckle, playing with one of Quinn's droopy antlers.
Quinn looked extraordinarily pleased with herself. She leaned into Rachel and wrapped her in a hug. "I know!"
Rachel squeezed her back and eyed Sam over Quinn's shoulder. "I thought you were watching her." She whispered accusingly. Sam looked a little sheepish, but couldn't seem to stop laughing. If that's what his face was doing.
Rachel couldn't see much under that massive nose.
"She loves that fruit wine, dude. And, I mean, look at her face!" Sam proclaimed, patting Quinn on the top of her head fondly and backing out of the kitchen before Rachel could reach him.
Rachel grabbed Quinn's shoulders and turned her gently to look at her head-on. Quinn's face was bright red. Her eyes were glassy, and the smile she was sporting was splitting her face in half. Rachel felt her forehead.
"You're really hot, baby." She said, palming Quinn's cheeks.
Quinn tried to wink. Half her face spasmed and then her smile returned. Even sober, Rachel wouldn't have been much more successful.
Rachel grabbed her ears. "Do you feel alright?"
Quinn nodded until her head lolled around like a bobblehead.
Rachel narrowed her eyes and grabbed Quinn's hands. "I think it might be bedtime for big bear." She sing-songed, leading Quinn out into the living room and towards the hallway. They got halfway there before somebody called Rachel's name.
"Berry!" Santana's voice rang out. "What the fuck is this?"
Rachel spun around to find her pointing at the gingerbread house. Or the abandoned pile of gingerbread, icing, and gumdrops that was shoved off to the side and being circled by cats. Puck stood next to Santana looking skeptical about its edibility.
Even if Rachel wasn't vegan, she wouldn't eat it. If she lived inside of it right now, she'd be dead.
"It's a bringerhead house." Quinn called out helpfully with a gleeful wave at Puck. Rachel snorted, and Quinn looked down at her and tapped her nose with delight. Rachel guided Quinn over to the dining room table, keeping her from pitching forward and landing on her face.
"Oh my God, she's drunk." Santana stated disbelievingly, biting into the door of the gingerbread house. Or the window. Or a fucking dog biscuit that one of the cats had planted.
"Okay. Someone have a phone? I need a phone." Santana demanded urgently, spinning around like one would appear magically in front of her. "Do you have a phone Puck? DOES ANYONE HAVE A PHONE THAT RECORDS?" she yelled to everybody in their general vicinity.
Puck shushed her and dug through his pockets.
"I'm not drunk." Quinn defended, mouth full of icing.
Rachel gently stopped Quinn's hand and extracted the gingerbread from it. "Don't eat that, bear." She said quietly.
Quinn sighed and swung her arms around. Rachel was supporting most of her weight. And Rachel was small. She couldn't do this much longer. Quinn was taking her down. Santana watched the two of them like they were a circus act.
"Did you know," Quinn blurted right in Rachel's ear, "that goats have…um…goats have rectan-rectig-gretang-um…goats have square pu-pupils."
Rachel winced at Santana's guffaw and patted Quinn's cheek. "I did not know that."
Quinn nodded vigorously, and then shut her eyes for a second because that seemed to hurt. "So do…ocsto-octo-octopussessessss."
Santana laughed again and Rachel glared at her. She tapped Quinn's lips because she seemed to be stuck on the "s" sound.
"I think…it's bedtime." Rachel stated, grabbing Quinn's arm to get her to start walking again.
Santana grinned delightedly. "Nighty night blondie!"
Quinn waved goodbye to her and gave Puck a double thumbs up. She seemed reluctant to move, so Rachel nudged her in the butt. She swayed dangerously, but then took a few steps toward the hallway.
Her antlers were about to slip off the back of her head.
Quinn stopped and crouched down so suddenly that Rachel tripped over her, kneeing her nicely in the back. Quinn ignored this and chattered away with Cornelius, rubbing his ears and prying Sam's Rudolph nose out of his mouth.
"We should-we should get some, um…goats." Quinn remarked, looking unsteadily up at Rachel. "Goats. Seal would love to gerd some-herd some goats. With square eyes."
Oh God.
They could definitely get some goats. Maybe sheep as well. Lock a whole swarm in the little yard with demon Cornelius. Because that wasn't a plan that would go terribly awry at all.
"Maybe one day we'll get you some goats, Quinn." Rachel said indulgently, dragging Quinn up by her arm and escorting her the rest of the way to the bedroom. She gently placed her on the bed, and Quinn toppled backwards like she couldn't support herself anymore.
Rachel just stared at her for a moment, smiling to herself and hoping her girlfriend wouldn't feel too horrible tomorrow morning.
Barnaby came in and bounced onto the bed, and Rachel helped Quinn sit up to pet him.
"I got you a scot-a stocking Barnseys." Quinn murmured, tugging on his ears. She fell silent for a few minutes and then turned to Rachel with a serious look on her face.
If this was about the twenty pound stockings Quinn had bought each of their animals, Rachel would be serious too.
"Will there be spres-pres-presents, um, under the tree tom-tromor-tomorrow-ow." Quinn asked stiltedly, staring at Rachel with puffed out cheeks.
Rachel smiled and brushed Quinn's hair behind her ear.
"If Santa puts them there." Rachel said jokingly, tapping Quinn's cheek to get her to let the air out. "Were you good this year?"
Quinn scrunched up her face and fumbled around with Barnaby's collar. "Mmm…Yeah. But, I nev-never get presents."
Rachel's smile faded. She watched Quinn's glassy eyes. She'd get this girl a present every day for the rest of her life just to see her smile. "You've never gotten Christmas presents before, bear?"
Quinn didn't appear to hear the question. She just swayed a little and kept petting Barnaby's head. Rachel waited patiently. She heard yelling coming from the living room. Probably some sort of animal problem. Or gingerbread problem.
Quinn finally shook her head. "Not-not really. Schlool stuff and money."
Rachel smiled softly and kissed Quinn's flushed cheek. "You're not getting schlool stuff this year."
Quinn smiled suddenly and looked at Rachel. She grabbed her own feet to show off the fluffy socks, tipping sideways until Rachel caught her.
"But you got me socks! And blolar pear name-named Blobby." Quinn proclaimed.
Rachel chuckled. "I think his name's Bobble, bear."
"Bobble bear." Quinn repeated, nodding to herself. Then she sighed heavily and fell backwards with a smile, eyes still on Rachel.
"I got you some-some, um, fuzzy, red reindreer pagram-pajam-pajamas to match mine." Quinn stuttered, pointing towards the closet. Or what was supposed to be the closet. Rachel grabbed her hand before it took Barnsey's eye out.
She went and grabbed Quinn's pajamas, and found the matching pair right next to them. They were exactly the same design, just a little bit smaller and slightly fuzzier. Rachel grinned. She returned to the bed to find that Quinn had taken off one leg of her jeans and had her shirt caught over her head.
"Stop. Stop tugging." She scolded when she tried to help and Quinn attempted to shake her off. Quinn went completely limp and Rachel laughed.
She pulled the jeans off and worked the pajamas up Quinn's legs, and then put the dinosaur t-shirt over Quinn's fluffy head and struggled to put her arms through the holes. It was like dressing a flexible mannequin.
Then she went and told Puck to watch over the rest of the party. Puck winked at her and told her that's what he'd been doing. He had two cats in his hands and scratches along his neck to prove it.
"Take care of drunky!" Santana yelled from across the room, having apparently decided that the gingerbread house was so amazing she couldn't leave the table or stop eating it.
Rachel put on her matching reindeer pants and climbed into bed facing Quinn. She ran her hand through blonde hair and smiled when Quinn's eyes flickered open.
"You'll have presents tomorrow, babe." She assured quietly.
Quinn scooted closer until she had Rachel in her octopus trap. "You…too." Quinn murmured slowly. "I jus-just want…a groat-goat. And you. And goats."
Rachel chuckled and kissed her forehead.
Quinn took another deep breath. "Love you Blobble bear."
"So much." Rachel whispered.
She only woke up when Quinn pounced on her on Christmas morning. There were presents under the tree and cookies for all.