Day 2: Character A's best friend rigs the Secret Santa because they know Character A has a crush on Character B.

Quinn couldn't believe what she was doing. Ambushing Puck, whose face had tightened after looking at his selection, eyes quickly darting toward the bossy diva before shaking his head and shoving the paper into his pocket, she forced him to a stop, holding out her hand. "Give it."

"What?" he asked.

"Rachel's name. Give it."

Puck narrowed his eyes. He crossed his arms. "Who do you have?"

Quinn breathed in through her nose. "Artie or Sam. Take your pick."

"What the hell would I get Artie? At least Sam an' me are bros." Taking the slip of paper that held Rachel's name out of his pocket, Puck paused before he exchanged with her. A leer started turning his lips up. "You're finally gonna make your move to get into Berry's skirts, huh?"

Frowning, Quinn snatched the paper away. "Only in your dreams. This is for someone else."

As the blonde walked away from him, leaving the paper with Sam's name in his hand, Puck watched her, scratching his mohawk. "Oh! Wait!" he called after her, "You don't mean Santana, do you?" When she didn't answer, he smirked broadly to himself. "Yeah. It's Santana. Hot."

"Got ya something."

Looking up at the blonde who had just strolled into her room, Santana rolled her eyes, not bothering to sit up from under her giant pile of blankets. "Nice job knocking, bitch." She coughed, "Eurgh, just make yourself at home."

"Nice job somehow making Sue not pull you into practice anyway," Quinn retorted, taking a seat at the end of the bed. "Here, this should make your day even better."

"That's the beauty of having your dad be not only one of the best doctors in the country but also a major backing of the Cheerios," Santana said, voice thick and stuck in her throat, not moving an inch, "Every so often she'll actually listen to his phone calls. How do you think I got us out of practice so often freshman year?" When Quinn slapped her leg, however, not looking amused, Sanana glowered before groaning, pushing herself up to support herself back against her headboard. "What?" she sniffled, pushing thick hair from her eyes; she looked suspiciously at the slip of paper Quinn was holding out for her. "If that's one of your mother's homemade prayer sheets, I will spit into your mouth until you get as sick as I am."

Quinn wrinkled her nose, but she continued pushing the paper at her pale friend. "I would never speak to you again. That's just needlessly gross, as it is unsanitary."

"Would you prefer I french kissed you then?" Santana husked, somehow managing to make her usual arrogance shine through even though she fell into a coughing fit right after. "God, I feel like shit."

"You'll be better by tomorrow," Quinn waved her hand. She was still jealous that Santana, who rarely got sick, still managed to fight it off within three-or-four days, no matter what it was or how ill she became. "Now, c'mon, take this. I swear it's physically hurting my hand. Besides, I need you to take it so you can start paying me back. Immediately."

Santana yawned but slipped her hand just enough from her blankets so Quinn could slap it into her palm. "Like anything could… What?" She looked up, having to pause her full question as a coughing fit rumbled through her chest, "The fuck? Berry's signature?"

"Not just her signature." Shaking her head, Quinn smirked, smugly reaching up to tighten her hair tie, running her fingers through her ponytail. "It's her Glee Secret Santa entry. Congrats. Early Merry Christmas."

Santana stared at her. "You serious?"

"You're welcome."

Quinn watched as Rachel's name was never called, Mr. Schue staring puzzledly at the small Christmas tree that had been set up in the music room, all presents claimed. Rachel's eyes were large under a furrowed brow, her mouth pinched together as her shoulders steadily pulled tighter and tighter into her body; next to Quinn, Santana shifted, crossing her legs.

"Uh… Who had Rachel?" Mr. Schue asked hesitantly, looking at the group of teenagers who were slowly starting to realize what was happening. The happy chatter and comparing of presents quieted, heads turning to look between their teacher and Rachel, who now looked like she was about to start leaking tears.

Puck's eyes darted toward Quinn, but before he could open his mouth, Quinn sharply jerked her head to the side, warning him. Once satisfied he wasn't going to say anything, she turned back towards the tree. In her peripheral, Santana calmly stayed silent, the set of Whitney Houston's greatest hits courtesy of her Secret Santa resting on her lap.

Mr. Schue frowned. "Okay, this isn't funny, guys. Who had Rachel?"

"Maybe… Maybe you should look again, Mr. Schue," Rachel spoke up, voice strained. It was obvious she was trying to keep strong.

"I…" Looking uncomfortable, like he wanted to refuse or say it would be pointless, Mr. Schue slowly changed his mind, nodding before kneeling down to check under the branches one more time. Everyone except Santana, Rachel, and Quinn leaned forward, as if doing so would help something appear.

Except, Mr. Schue sighed, shaking his head as he stood up. "I'm sorry, Rachel," he offered gently.

Rachel blinked back welling tears, her hand immediately coming up to wipe at her eyes. "I… That's okay, Mr. Schue. Th-thank you for looking. Now, if you could excuse me, I'd…" Shooting to her feet, she was jerked to a stop when Finn flashed out, catching hold of her hand.

"Rache…" he whispered, looking apologetic with a soft look on his face, "Here, would you like some of my…" He juggled the giant plastic bear container he held in his other hand, glancing down at it, "Red and green gummy bears?"

Sniffing, Rachel brushed the bottom of her palm below her eye, gently disengaging her other hand. "Thank you, Finn, but I'm afraid gummy bears aren't vegan. I appreciate the offer, however." With a nod, she spun on her heel again, once again starting to rush out… but once at the door, she abruptly stopped, whirling around. Not looking at anyone in particular, she opened her mouth, closed it, then opened it again.

"You know," she started, voice low, her hands clasped white in front of her, "Though I may be Jewish, I was excited to celebrate this Secret Santa with my teammates and f-friends. Thank you, whoever you are, for once again proving I'm so rarely considered as such back." Then, slapping a hand to her mouth, she finally sprinted out of the room, leaving behind an almost defeated air behind her. Finn and Mr. Schue, the only ones standing, practically slumped.

"Who didn't get Rachel a present?" Brittany wondered out loud, "That's really mean."

"Especially since everyone else got one…" Tina trailed off.

Puck sent a dark glare at both Quinn and Santana. "Not. Cool."

Quinn glared back at him, shaking her head and closing her eyes. "No, it wasn't." She turned to the girl still sitting immobile next to her.

Santana's lips tightened, but she didn't outwardly react.

"Santana." Whispering harshly, Quinn closed her hand around her friend's arm. "This was not what I thought you would do when I got her name for you!"

Jerking her arm back, Santana glared at her. "Shut up, Q. You don't know what I planned."

"Planned?"

Santana stood. Dark eyes squarely meeting Quinn's, she moved her gaze out to the rest of the glee club and the jazz band. "Wow. You all call her your friend, and yet no one's gone after her to see if she's okay." Ignoring the instant outcry her words got, she pulled up her backpack, stashing her CD set into it. "No, no," she held up her hand, stopping Mercedes and Kurt before they could fully get off the risers, "I's got it. I'm good at being real. You all would only feed her bad mood." Hopping down between the chairs, she didn't wait for anyone to move, pushing past Finn, who looked vaguely worried, and Mr. Schue, who was wavering at stopping her, his expression making it clear he was worried she'd make things worse.

Popping up as soon as Santana had exited, Quinn wrapped her hand in the back of Puck's shirt, pulling him up with her as she followed. "Everyone else stay here," she said over Puck's yelp, only letting go when he fell into step with her, "We'll follow to make sure she doesn't kill Rachel."

"Dude," Puck groaned, rubbing the front of his neck where his collar had dug in, "Why'd you grab me? I don't want Santana mad at me!"

"Because if Santana totally screws Rachel over, you're as culpable as I am for the fallout."

"What? No I'm not! You're the one who pounced on me! I could have come up with something. Gotten my fellow hot Jew something – !"

Quinn threw out her hand, cutting him off with a sharp hiss, her knuckles hitting his chest. She ducked behind the door leading into the auditorium, Puck scrambling to a stop as well. Waiting a couple of moments, they peeked around the door, Quinn doing her best to ignore the weight of the jock against her back.

"Dude, you seeing this?" Puck hissed. He sounded as surprised as Quinn felt.

Santana and Rachel were sitting on the edge of the stage, Santana's arm wrapped around Rachel's shoulders, her other hand rubbing the smaller girl's back as she settled against her chest. They were talking quietly, Santana pausing every now and then, suddenly shrugging as Rachel lightly slapped her side, sitting back and pointing at her. Smirking, unapologetic in the least, Santana fished inside her backpack, turning back after drawing out a small wrapped present the size of a jewelry case.

"No way…" Puck exhaled. "What do you think it is?"

Quinn elbowed him. "Shh!"

"What? I'm just askin'! Stop hitting the Puckster!"

Back in the auditorium, Rachel was staring down at the present, holding it reverently. Santana murmured something, and she laughed, shaking her head before starting to slowly unwrap it. Setting aside the paper and then pausing a second before opening the box, glancing up at Santana as she did so, an audible gasp met Puck and Quinn's ears, a high-pitched squeal following soon after. "Santana! You got me bling?" She gazed up at Santana with sparkling eyes and red cheeks both teens could see from where they were.

When Santana shrugged again, a light mask of embarrassment covering her features, a crooked smile lifting her lips, Quinn pushed herself back, shoving Puck off balance so he'd retreat from the doors. "Okay! They're fine. Let's go."

"What?" Puck stared incredulously at her, throwing an arm out to point at the auditorium. "We can't go! Didn't you see the same thing I did? They're going to make out! With each other! Rachel totally has that, 'going to kiss you now' expression on her face, and when has Santana ever been so nice to her? She's totally into her! I've known that even before you got me to give you Rachel's name."

Putting her hands on her hips, Quinn leveled her best glare at him. "Puck. Do you want Santana to kill you? That's what she's going to do if you stay here. And do you really think Rachel would leave you alone if she caught you spying, either?"

Practically vibrating, his head jerking back and forth from Quinn and the auditorium, Puck dropped his mouth open, his jaw working. "Bu… Bu…"

Quinn raised an eyebrow, and Puck groaned, running a hand over his mohawk. He turned on his heel, punching an open locker door closed as he stalked past it, grumbling and growling to himself. Chancing a quick glance back to see if either girl had noticed, Quinn's eyes widened before she forced herself to turn and start down the hallway as well.

She didn't know if she'd ever get the image of Santana, sitting with Rachel in between her legs with her hands on her shoulders like having just gotten done fastening a necklace, kissing Rachel slowly and softly, Rachel's hand on her cheek, pulling her closer, out of her head.

Shaking off the shock, Quinn had to smile proudly to herself. Turns out her plan worked out even better than she had ever thought it would.

…

Santana so owed her.