Four Calling Birds
"My mom is going to kill me if I'm not home for Christmas Eve dinner."
"Can it, Fabray," Santana snapped, glaring harshly at the blonde seated across from her. "We all have families that are expecting us home for dinner. Your precious mother isn't the only one who is going to be disappointed when you don't show up."
"Santana, I don't think that's what Quinn meant," Rachel told her roommate patiently. She had become an expert at dealing with the spitfire Latina over the past two years. "We all want to get out of here, but we need to come up with a plan before that can happen."
Quinn looked at her pointedly. "It's your fault we're in here in the first place, Manhands," she spat, causing Rachel to physically recoil. It had been a long time since Quinn had used the nickname and she felt bad immediately. "Sorry, Rach, I didn't mean it."
"Yeah, it's going to be okay, Rachel," Brittany promised, throwing her arm around her friend protectively. It was the first time the four of them had been home in Lima at the same time in so long, and Rachel had been looking forward to it ever since her junior year of college began in August. "Aren't we supposed to get a phone call or something? That's what happened that time when Patrick got arrested for accidentally stealing sand dollars and he had to call Sponge Bob."
"Despite that convoluted explanation, Britt's right," Santana realized. She went over to the bars and pounded her fist against the metal loudly. A displeased, tired guard came stalking around the corner. This was the third time Santana had made such a commotion since they had been thrown in here. "Look, aren't we supposed to get a phone call?"
"Yes, my father is a lawyer, and we would hate to have to file a lawsuit with the ACLU because we were denied our basic rights," Rachel spouted off. It had been awhile since she had gotten to make such a threat. "I highly doubt that kind of publicity would be favorable for the Lima Police Department."
The man, who was clearly exhausted from all the crazies that came out during the holidays, looked like he didn't want to be dealing with the four young women. "Fine, whatever," he mumbled. "You can each make a phone call one at a time." He looked at each of the girls before his tired gray eyes settled on Quinn. "Blondie over there can go first. The payphone's broken, so you'll have to use your cell phones. Go up to the front counter. Mickey's holding 'em, but I'll tell him that you are each allowed one call."
The girls huddled around for a moment to make a plan. "Who should I call?" Quinn asked.
"I think we should all call the same person," Rachel proposed. "It's the middle of the night, so they're more likely to answer if they get the same call four times."
"And we can't call our parents," Quinn declared. "My dad will kill me. Who do we know that will have the money and won't ask questions?"
Santana and Rachel exchanged a look. "Puck," Santana replied as Rachel answered, "Noah."
Puck was in the middle of a very enticing dream about Adrianna Lima when his phone rang. He sat up in the dark, reaching blindly for where it was buried on his nightstand beneath a stack of magazines. He saw Quinn's name flashing on the screen and rolled his eyes. She was probably just calling to bitch at him again for what he'd said to her at the Changs' Christmas party a few hours before. It wasn't his fault that she still acted like she was too good for all of them. Not really in the mood to listen to another of her rants or an apology, he hit the ignore button and rolled back over in a vain attempt to recapture his dream.
"Dammit," Quinn muttered before she slid her phone back across the counter to the cop. She shrugged at the other three girls when she was let back into the cell. "He didn't answer. San, you're up."
The Latina rolled her eyes when Mickey fumbled with her phone. She pressed the third speed dial button, the one that Puck had inhabited ever since they started hooking up freshman year. The only ones ahead of him were her voicemail and Brittany. "C'mon, Puckerman, pick up," she groaned to herself, listening fruitlessly as the phone rang and rang in her ear.
Puck seriously considered throwing his iPhone at the wall when it started to blare again. He recognized the ringtone enough to know that it was Santana's, so he didn't even bother checking the phone before he pressed the button on the top to silence it. She had been pretty wasted when he had left Mike's house, which meant that she was probably feeling nostalgic and wanted to hook up. It was something she did at least once a year, but they never actually went through with it. He had made the mistake of kissing her at Finn's house over winter break two years ago, and she had turned into a weepy drunk who sobbed about Brittany and Sam's fake wedding for two hours.
"Fuckin' asshole," Santana hollered when she got back to the cell. "Berry, he's still not answering. Maybe we should try someone else."
"I'll try him," Brittany offered, shaking her blonde ponytail as she bounced on the heels of her feet. The cops all seemed to like her the best of the three, probably because she was still happily buzzed and wearing only a neon yellow bra on her upper half.
Santana groaned and raked her fingers through her dark locks. "There's no way he'll answer for her. Britt only ever calls him in the middle of the night when she needs something stupid."
This is the exact thought Puck had when he saw the half-naked picture of Brittany that she had saved into his phone earlier that night. What was it with the crazy chicks he knew? The last time she had called him at this hour had been his senior year of high school and she had needed help with yet another intervention for her stupid cat. She had started sobbing and honestly, a crying Brittany was just fucking wrong, and he had ended up in her basement along with Finn, Santana and Tina at 2 a.m.
"I don't know why he didn't answer," Brittany pouted.
"I'm sure he's just sleeping, Britt," Rachel reassured her. She patted her friend's blonde hair comfortingly before looking up at the policeman waiting for her. "I guess it's my turn."
She barely heard Santana yell, "This better work, Berry," after her.
Puck picked up his cell phone with the intention of turning it off when he saw Berry's name and grinning face on the screen. "Berry?"
"Oh, Noah," she cried happily. "I need you to come get me."
He was already out of bed, looking for a shirt and his shoes, when she said those words. "I'm on my way," he promised before realizing he had no idea where she was. "Where am I headed?"
"Lima Municipal Jail," she answered sheepishly. "I need you to bail me out."
"What the hell, Berry?"
"I'll explain later," she promised. "I need you get my purse from Daddy's car; it's parked in the 7-11 lot. Bring my wallet so I can pay bail for all of us."
"All of us?"
"Santana, Quinn and Brittany got arrested with me," she explained.
He laughed as he headed out into the December night. "I can't wait to hear that story."
"Just hurry, Noah."
"I'm on my way, babe."
Fifteen minutes later, Puck swaggered up to the jail cell with mischief dancing in his hazel eyes. "Well, if it isn't the four good girls gone bad," he said before narrowing his eyes at Santana. "Well, three good girls and Santana."
"Cute, Puckerman," she snapped. "Why the fuck did you ignore my call? You only answered for Berry over there."
He looked at her and then Quinn and Brittany. "I didn't want to make out with a lesbian, get bitched at by Baby Mama or drive Britt's cat to rehab," he told her dismissively.
"Besides, Noah always answers when I call," Rachel said without thinking. She covered her mouth as soon as she said it. No one knew that they talked and had been with increasing frequency ever since Finn hooked up with Tina in Chicago last year. "Can we get out of here?"
"Sure, babe, I'll take you home," he said, stepping aside to let the cop unlock the door. Rachel flew into his arms. He held her tightly and kissed the top of her head. She knew that it had only been a few hours, but getting arrested was pretty scary. "C'mon, ladies, I have my mom's car. I'll drop you all off too."
He waited while the girls collected their personal belongings from Mickey at the counter. Rachel never let go of his hand the entire time, but he ignored the prying stares from Quinn and Santana in their direction. They were all pretty quiet on the drive over to the Fabrays. Quinn only waved when she climbed out of the car and ran up the driveway, her heels clicking on the pavement and echoing into the night sky. He left Santana and Brittany together at the Pierces' place. Finally, he drove the familiar streets back to the Berrys' house and killed his engine by the curb.
"Santana insulted a cop, and he said something mean back to her. That made Brittany defend her, and he said something about her being stupid. So of course I had to say something," Rachel explained defensively. He hadn't even had to ask, just looked at her with an arched eyebrow and knowing smirk. "Quinn actually was a fairly innocent bystander, but she didn't try to stop me when I pushed him."
"Assaulting a police officer, Berry? I'm impressed."
"You shouldn't be," she said quietly. "I know Daddy won't be when my name shows up in the police blotter section of the paper next week."
She was an adult who lived on her own in New York City, balancing a full slate of classes between performances on Broadway. And yet, she still cared what her father thought. Puck sort of loved that about her. If he was being honest, there was a lot he loved about her. He intended to tell her that too and soon.
"Thanks for picking up when I called, Noah."
He reached across the seat and drew her into his arms, laying a soft kiss against her temple. "I'll always answer, babe," he pledged. "I'll always answer when you call."
