Author's Note: I realize it's July, but I really couldn't resist. Pointing out some of the differences in Puck and Santana's home dynamic was fun. Plus, I really wanted to throw San's little brother in there...And, yeah, I just made a horrible pun. Carlos. Santana. Her parents are big fans. Clearly.

Disclaimer: I do not own any of these characters (except sort of Sarah & definitely Carlos). I am only responsible for their fictional corruption.

3.

His Ma would only make the exception for Santana. Ever since his Pop walked out, his mother had stopped forcing him to Synagogue every Saturday, but she still had them celebrating the traditional Jewish holidays. Their traditions were different from most. They watched Schindler's List on Yom Kippur and ate Chinese on Passover. But they always lit the Menorah for Chanukah. Puck didn't care. He got a present every day for a week as a kid. And, every year on Christmas, he and his Ma and his sister went over to the Lopez house. They were about as Spanish Catholic as you could get, but his mother had loved Santana and her family forever.

So it wasn't weird that they were standing on the Lopezes' front porch, his Ma carrying her infamous broccoli casserole and seven-year-old Sarah clinging to his side and burying her face into the ridiculous sweater his mother made him wear. Puck's tugging at his collar and tapping his foot impatiently. He's not really excited to see all of Santana's cousins. All they talk about it soccer and they use a lot of Spanish, which is annoying because he only speaks English. But he and Santana have this really stupid little tradition of exchanging gifts on Christmas, even though he doesn't technically celebrate it.

Her Papi opens the door. He's already holding a glass of wine and he hugs his Ma before they can even get in the door, claps him hard on the back when he gets inside. Mr. Lopez has taken on a pseudo-father role in his life since his own Pop walked out, but Puck knows he watches him carefully and he never hesitates to say Noah Puckerman, if you ever hurt my daughter… He never has to finish that sentence because Puck's always nodding his head and going Yes sir, Mr. Lopez, never. If he knew how his sweet little girl lost it to him at a party at fourteen, her Papi would probably try to strangle him. Puck is so glad they've kept that little secret to themselves…losing it at Quinn Fabray's place is legend and it'd make a hell of a story, but only Finn (and, Puck assumes, Brittany) know the whole truth.

They're fifteen –he turns sixteen in a couple months- and they're getting way too old for this family bonding shit. He's hoping they can get a couple Natty Lights from her cousin Juan and sit on his back porch instead of sitting at the kids' table for another year. Sarah's still clinging to him for dear life even as Santana's little brother, Carlos, pops up to show her his new toy truck. "Santana's in the basement," her father informs him, and Puck nods before heading down, tugging his sister along with him.

She's sitting on the couch between two of her cousins looking bored out of her mind. Her hair's down and she's wearing this really hot red dress. "Hey," he says, smirking a little. She's out of her seat and approaching him instantly, but it's not him she's got eyes for.

"Hey, Sarah-bear!"

"Santana!" She squeals, breaking away from her brother and flinging herself at her surrogate sister. Sometimes, Puck's convinced Sarah likes Santana more than she likes him. She spends so much time in the Puckerman household that she practically is their sister. But that'd be weird, since Puck and Santana make out…a lot.

"Hi, babe," Santana murmurs, scooping the little girl up and resting her against her hip. She gives Puck a once over and snorts at the ridiculous green sweater he's wearing. It clashes horribly with the mohawk even if it does bring out his eyes. "Did you see Carlos? He's been waiting to give you something…" Sarah's eyes light up and she scrambles to get out of Santana's arms. She lets the little girl go and she dashes off. Santana turns her attention to Puck and raises one eyebrow. "So, do you have anything for me?"

Puck's got a hand in his pocket and his fist is closed over the box. His shoulders raise and fall in a shrug. "Sure," he says, ignoring the way her older cousins are watching him with narrowed eyes. Juan likes him, but the rest of them are scary protective. Puck knows if he ever screwed Santana over he'd have so many Spanish guys on his ass he'd have to run to Canada or something. He leans in as if to kiss her but she turns her head at the last second so he catches her cheek rather than her lips. He sighs in annoyance and licks his lips when he draws back, tasting her makeup on his tongue. "Come on. Like they don't know."

She mirrors his shrug and gives him a look that says be patient, Puck. What she actually says is "Just because we're together doesn't mean I like PDA." Puck scoffs. That's such a lie. In the hallways at school, they're allowed to kiss all they want. But in front of her family, they're more careful, kind of cautious. He knows she doesn't want her Papi to get angry, but seriously. His Ma and her Ma have been planning their wedding since they were five. If he doesn't know by now, he's an idiot.

Puck takes her hand firmly in his anyway and gives the cousins a look over Santana's head. One of the oldest –maybe a year older than they are- gives him a glare. Puck just smirks and swings their linked hands a little as he tugs her towards the stairs. "Want some hot chocolate or something?" His smirk is only widening because they both know that hot chocolate isn't really their style. She rolls her eyes at him and they head upstairs, away from the prying eyes of her cousins-

-and right into the waiting arms of their parents. His Ma has her arm linked with her Papi's and they're laughing. "-when Noah and Santana were four and he cut off the hair of her Barbie and she cried. And he used his birthday money to buy her a new one." Puck and Santana exchange glances, his looking harassed and hers amused. She'd been so pissed at him at the time, but he made it up to her. Eventually.

"Come on," Puck says, pulling her away from their nostalgic parents. Knowing his mother, the stories will only get more embarrassing as time goes on and the parents drink more. They slip into the kitchen where her Abuela is sitting nursing a cup of coffee. She smiles at the two when they enter and Puck offers her a smile. "Hola, Maria."

Santana rolls her eyes at him. He's such a little suck up. Puck doesn't even pay attention during Spanish class. But her grandmother loves him. So does Carlos. And her Mami. The only one they really need to convince is her father and they're golden. "You don't have to speak Spanish to me, Noah," her grandmother chides him, reaching out to swat his arm. Puck doesn't snap at her like he does when Santana –or anyone else from school for that matter- calls him Noah. She knows he's just being polite to his elders or whatever, but it's still kind of annoying.

Santana's grandmother gets to her feet and hobbles out into the living room. Santana doesn't miss the long look she gives to the top of the doorway, but Puck's too busy raiding the fridge by now to notice. "Think they're drunk enough to think they drank all the wine?" He holds up a bottle with a mischievous little grin.

Santana shakes her head. "Not yet." She pulls herself up onto the counter and looks at him expectantly. "Well?"

Puck walks over to her, hands in pockets, and raises his brows. "Well what?" He's totally serious, his expression one of calm certainly. He can see the lines in Santana's forehead wrinkling, and if they were still ten, she'd have already had a temper tantrum at him by now. As it is, they're both matured –a little- and she just kicks his knee with a heel. It actually kind of hurts.

"God, San," Puck complains, digging his hand into the pocket of his jeans and withdrawing a box wrapped in the Sunday comics. It's not like they have Christmas paper. "Don't say I never gave you anything."

She scrutinizes the box for a second before tearing it open. It's a little black box, and the first thing out of her mouth is, "This better be jewelry." Puck doesn't look away from her almost-serious glare. Santana opens the box and she's quiet for so long that Puck's sure he's screwed up. Except the corner of her mouth it turning upwards just a little and she's shaking her head at his 'gift'.

"…This is yours." It's his watch. Or, more accurately, it was his dad's watch, the last thing the deadbeat gave his son before running out on the family when Puck was only eight. Besides the watch, all Papa Puckerman had given his son was a name, a couple smacks to the head, and a daddy complex. Santana remembers how he'd wanted to smash the thing to pieces right after the guy left, but she'd told him to keep it 'cause it might be worth somethin' someday. "The hell is this for?"

Puck rolls his eyes at her in a patronizing sort of way and snatches the heavy, silver watch from the box. He snaps it expertly around her right wrist (the left is reserved for her and Brittany's BFF bracelets, and Puck knows better than to put himself between those two girls). He just shrugs and crosses his arms loosely over his chest. "So people know we have a thing, even if you don't let me kiss you." Santana rolls her eyes right back. She doesn't belong to anyone, especially not her mohawked best friend.

Still, she thinks, as she turns the still loose watch over her wrist, it'd be kind of a sweet gesture if he wasn't so pigheaded about it. "What about me? Don't you have something for me?" His eyebrows arch toward his hairline as Santana hops down from the counter and hooks her thumbs in his belt loops, directing him back towards the doorway. "San…?" She's looking over his head once they stop in the middle of the doorframe, and he follows her gaze up.

"…You're so lame," he says, staring at the mistletoe hanging above their heads. Normally, they're not into the whole sweet kisses and traditions thing. They're more like…make out and hook up kind of people. That's probably why they work so well together. But Santana's in a mood, and Puck knows better than to disagree with her when she's acting like that. She's standing on tiptoes and tilting his head down so that she can catch his lips with hers. It's a soft kiss, much unlike the ones they've been sharing recently. She's gentle with him –and she's usually not- so Puck's pretty sure he didn't screw up. He lets himself kiss her back, having to watch himself and keep the pace steady. Normally, he wouldn't give a shit, but their parents are lurking around and the last thing he needs is for them to catch him frenching Santana in the k-

"Ew, what are you doing?"

"Carlos, you're s'posed to kiss when you get stuck under mistletoe."

Santana pulls back when her younger brother and his little sister pop up holding candy canes. Carlos takes a sideways step away from the doorway, distancing himself from Sarah. Puck turns around a little and gives the pair of them a look. He's glad they're still in the cooties stage because he's actually really protective over his sister, San's brother or not.

"I'm not kissing you. You have cooties."

"Do not!"

"Do too!"

Santana chuckles against his neck and Puck shakes his head a little. "Aren't you glad we grew up a little bit?"

"I'm glad you grew up a little bit. You used to be tiny."

Puck frowns. "Yeah? And you used to be as flat as a two by four." He pauses for a second, tilts his head to the side. "Hey, where's my present?"

Santana laughs and steps away from him, heading for the living room –and the safety of her Papi's gaze. "That was your present."

She winks, though, and Puck figures he's gonna get part two later. Merry freakin' Christmas to him.