Six Geese A Laying

"Haven't you ever heard that saying, 'What's good for the goose is good for the gander?' That means that this idea, which is quite brilliant by the way, is good for you too, Noah," Rachel told her husband of a year seriously. "Besides, what's the point in living upstate if we don't take full advantage of it?"

Puck was twenty-six, and children were still a year off in Rachel's life plan. That meant that she was finding anything and everything possible to fulfill the blossoming maternal side that had come out over the past couple months. She had become restless after her latest show had ended its two-year run, one that had given her a Tony and enough money to buy an old farmhouse in the Hamptons. Redecorating had been a full-time project for the first month; her sudden urge to actually farm on the homestead had become the next one.

"Baby, despite being from a fairly small town, you're a diehard city girl," he reminded her. He knew that she would be able to do it, but he really didn't want to do it. "You can grow a little patch of organic vegetables in the side yard. I don't think we need to get chickens and a cow."

Rachel smiled at Puck in the way that she always did when she wanted to get her way. "How about a goose then?" she asked sweetly, batting her long eyelashes at him. It always worked like a charm. "Just one that lays eggs. We can hatch a flock and then donate them to the aviary across town that does therapeutic work with the elderly. It's charity, Noah, you can't refuse my need to do a good deed."

And that's how they ended up converting part of their basement into a makeshift place for incubations. He had successfully convinced her to just get the eggs rather than the bird. it was the only way he could be sure that one flock didn't turn into another; he knew that if he gave in too much they'd end up being emu farmers or something. For a girl who was still a diehard vegan, he wasn't sure what good that kind of farming would do her in the long run.

"Noah, are you sure the temperature is right?" she asked the evening they brought the eggs home. It was the day after Thanksgiving. "We have to get it exact to mimic the mother's body temperature. Proper gestation doesn't begin until then."

"I know, Rach," he muttered in frustration. He had read the six pamphlets she had left around the house for him and sat through the half-hour lecture the farmer required before he'd hand over the eggs. "The reading is good, and we have the right light bulb. They'll be fine."

She looked down at the eggs fondly. He couldn't believe how attached she already was to them. "Hey, babies," she said, laying her hand gently against the glass door of the incubator. They were bigger than he had expected. "Noah, they're going to be Christmas babies. We'll have to take pictures to send to Quinn and Sam!"

"Sure, babe," he agreed, leaning over to kiss the top of her head.

They spent the better part of the next month carefully monitoring the six eggs. Rachel continuously worried that they were going to lose one of their babies, as they both had come to call them. She insisted that she be the one to turn them, meticulously monitoring it in a little pink notebook. Puck had to admit that her excitement was contagious, and he looked forward to the time he spent checking on them. He talked to them, even playing a little classical music like he did when Quinn had been pregnant with Beth. He knew it couldn't hurt, even if they were just birds. Rachel had caught him down there more than once, and each time, she smiled at him as if she knew he would be a good father.

Finally, the night that they were supposed to hatch had arrived. For the rest of the world, it was Christmas Eve, but for the Jewish Puckerman household, it was just December 24th. Rachel had everything ready to go, from a box with hay so they could stay warm after they poked their way out of their shells to seed that they would be able to snack on once they got big enough to little droppers of water so they could hand feed them water. Puck had just thrown a few old towels on the floor in case things got gross. Rachel had still beamed at him as if he was the best thing to ever happen.

"Look, Noah, the first one is starting to hatch," she said softly, her voice full of wonder. Puck watched in amazement beside her as its little fuzzy head appeared out of the cracking shell. "We have to let it dry and fluff up before we can get it out. What should we name him?"

"Why are you so sure it's a him?"

"I just know these things, Noah," she grinned. "Now, what's a proper name for our first born?"

"Echad," he replied in Hebrew. "He's the first one; it only makes sense to call him One."

"Echad," Rachel repeated, nodding in confirmation. "I like it." She gazed down at him, fingertips tapping on the glass. "Hello, Echad, we're your mommy and daddy. You're a pretty little baby, aren't you?"

It wasn't too much longer before a second little gosling made its appearance. "This one's a girl," she decided. "And I think we should name her Dot because she had that speckle on her shell."

"Hey, Dot," Puck greeted the fuzzy little bird a few minutes later when he was able to pull her and Echad out. Rachel helped him carefully transfer them into their new home. The two curled up immediately beneath the warming lamp Rachel had just turned on. "There you guys go. Play nice, don't make Mommy come down there."

Over the next several minutes, Rachel and Puck also welcomed Poppy, Bertram and Duke into their new family. Rachel cooed over each gosling as he took them out. They were so soft and fuzzy, their feathers pure white like snow. "You're not going to want to get rid of them," he said to her as they got Duke acquainted with his new surroundings as well as his siblings. "We're going to end up raising six geese, aren't we?"

She smiled up at him. "Like you're not already attached to them."

"Whatever," he shrugged dismissively. He glanced over at the incubator to check on the last egg. "Looks like we got another one."

"Noah, look, he's going to be black!" she said excitedly. He peered over her shoulder at the top of the head just starting to peak out. "We have to name this one Ryan."

"Ryan?"

"Ryan Gosling, Noah," she clarified as if this was supposed to be the most obvious thing in the world. "He's the handsomest little fellow just like his namesake."

Puck waited until Ryan was good to go before he opened the door of the incubator. He let Rachel take him out, her little hands shaking as she lifted him out for the first time. The gosling seemed to almost nuzzle her fingers as she carefully placed him down in the crate with the other babies. She knelt over them, rearranging the hay until everything was just perfect.

"We have to take a picture!" she remembered, reaching for her phone on the counter nearby to snap a quick shot. She also appeared with a pair of paper hats with the number six on it. Puck looked at her like she was crazy, but she didn't care. She just perched the bright hat atop her messy ponytail and grinned. "C'mon, Noah, please. For me and the babies?"

He swore to Sam later that she promised him dirty sex, like the birthday kind.

"They are pretty damn cute," Puck murmured as they looked down on their babies. He had his arm around his wife, who seemed to be getting increasingly tired and quiet by the moment.

"See, Daddy, I told you that you would love them."

Puck kissed the side of her head. "Yeah, we're gonna keep them, huh?"

"We'll see," she replied softly. "Oh, I have one more surprise." He thought she was going to say that she was pregnant for a moment until she handed over a cigar in a baby blue package. "I took a risk that at least one of them would be a boy."

"You're so cute," he grinned. "I love you, baby."

"Love you too, Noah."

Six months later, she surprised him with another cigar, one that did come with a positive pregnancy test that time. They told their six firstborn before anyone else.