Author's Note: A little Christmas ficlet set after Dust On Every Page. Faberry's 3rd Christmas.
Let the Christmas Spirit Ring
Rocking around the Christmas Tree.
Let the Christmas Spirit ring.
Later we'll have some pumpkin pie
and we'll do some caroling.
~Rockin' Around the Christmas Tree
Quinn has always loved Christmas. Some of her best childhood memories—and really, there are so very few good ones to choose from—are filled with red and green, twinkling lights, eggnog, and carols playing on the radio while she and her mother (and Frannie) danced around one another as they decorated the Christmas tree. Of course, those were the days when Judy Fabray still only enjoyed the occasional glass of wine with dinner instead of polishing off a bottle a day, Frannie was the annoying older sister who still mostly encouraged Quinn—Lucy—to follow in her footsteps, and Quinn still wanted to be just like them. Russell was still strict but loving—silently watching his family from his chair as he nursed his Scotch and read the business section of his newspaper. Every dark undercurrent of tension and unhappiness that was gradually taking root in the Fabray household throughout the rest of the year would always seem to disappear under the bright lights and cheer of the holiday season.
Before everything went to hell, she and her mother and Frannie would enjoy a yearly tradition of tastefully decorating the house and taking special care with the tree, reminiscing over each and every ornament as they'd pulled it from the box and hung it on the tree. The Fabrays never went overboard with the commercialization of Christmas the way so many families seemed to do. There were never any tacky, inflatable Santa Clauses on the front yard or choreographed light displays flashing from dusk until dawn, and the gifts beneath the tree were never extravagant or excessive. Quinn wishes that she could say it was because they never lost sight of the true meaning of the holiday, but she knows their prudence was always more about the appearance of being a good, Christian family than actually living faithful and charitable lives three-hundred and sixty-five days a year. Every year, without fail, the entire family would don their brand new Christmas outfits to attend the midnight mass on Christmas Eve and pretend—for a few hours, at least—that they could be that warm and content together every day.
Quinn remembers holding onto her mother's hand as they'd gone shopping at the mall—eyes wide and smiling as she'd taken in the decorations and the music and the hustle and bustle of people all around her, weighted down with dozens of colorful shopping bags. As she'd gotten older, it had gotten increasingly less fun to battle the crowds, but that one afternoon of Christmas shopping with her mother had remained a tradition until the year she'd gotten pregnant. They'd tried it again the next year, but the whole ordeal had been nearly as painful as her labor with Beth.
Even with the discontent of her teenage years overshadowing her happy memories, Quinn never lost her love for the season. Most of the traditions that she'd shared with her family had been destroyed after her pregnancy, but she and her mother had still taken quiet joy in putting up the Christmas tree and pausing over every ornament through the last of her high school years until the end of college.
During her first year in New York, she'd been out at the beginning of November in search of the perfect Christmas tree. She would have loved to have bought a real one, but she'd been realistic enough about the size and location of her apartment to know that an artificial tree would be easier for her to transport and maintain. Rachel had tried to convince her to get the real tree if she really wanted it, insisting that she and Kurt and Santana would be happy to help Quinn juggle it from the lot to her building, up her stairs and into the one, tiny corner that it could possibly fit into, but Quinn had been firm in her decision, and the tree that she'd eventually found had been the perfect size for her small space.
So with her iPod shuffling through Christmas songs, she'd reverently opened up the box of ornaments that her mother had helped her carefully pack and placed each one on her tree as she'd lost herself to her memories. Rachel had been adorably put-out because Quinn hadn't asked her (or Santana or Kurt) to come over and help her decorate, and it had mostly tickled Quinn at the time that Rachel cared so much, but putting up her first Christmas tree in her very own apartment had been something that Quinn had wanted to do on her own—an odd sort of goodbye to past traditions and a clean slate for the future.
Her second year in the city had brought the first Christmas—well, Christmukkah—with Rachel as her girlfriend. They hadn't been living together at the time, so the holidays consisted of them decorating two separate apartments and two separate trees. Well—one and a half trees. Rachel's old place had been even smaller than Quinn's, so her tree was one of those little three-footers that fit on top of the coffee table, and even though Rachel had grown up celebrating a mashup of both Hanukkah and Christmas, her family's spiritual focus was always more on Hanukkah—with a lot of colorful Christmas decorations and an unsurprising love of any and every Christmas carol added in for good measure. The Berrys are a very musical family, after all.
Quinn honestly hadn't even thought twice before she'd pulled her tree out of the storage bag that she'd had jammed under her bed and erected it on the first Saturday after Thanksgiving. She'd had the day off work, and Rachel had two performances to keep her at the theatre, so it had seemed like the perfect time for Quinn to start her Christmas decorating. Rachel hadn't agreed, and she'd pouted for over an hour because Quinn hadn't waited for her to help, but at least Quinn was able to freely give into her urge to kiss the frown from her lips before she'd reminded Rachel that it gave them more time to simply enjoy the decorations—and other things.
The third year found them finally cohabitating, but Rachel had been on tour with Les Mis all through November and December, so Quinn had been forced to undertake the decorating duties all alone once again. Rachel had been upset about being so far away, and Quinn had been sad that she was spending the holidays without her girlfriend, but when Rachel had flown home late on Christmas Eve for a two day break from performances, they'd both been incredibly happy to celebrate their reunion in front of an already decorated tree.
And this year—this year, they're together. In every way. And Quinn has the pleasure of sharing the entire holiday season with the woman she loves. The woman who is currently wearing a hideous Christmas sweater that rivals anything she'd ever favored in high school (but sadly without the very short skirt to distract Quinn's eyes with more appealing things) and a lopsided elf hat (that Quinn had only made a single joke about—so far) as she feverishly scribbles a list of everything that they're going to need to transform their apartment into The Very Berry (Fabray) Christmukkah Wonderland.
No lie. The list is titled that way.
"Do you think you might be going just a little bit overboard?" Quinn wonders from next to Rachel as she catches sight of Xmas themed bathroom set written on the list. She really doesn't want Santa staring at her from anywhere inside their bathroom. Just—no!
Rachel's pen pauses against the paper, and her gaze flies to Quinn. "I most certainly am not. This is our first holiday season cohabitating, Quinn!"
"Actually, it's our second," Quinn points out.
Rachel's eyes narrow. "You know very well what I mean. Last year I was unfairly deprived of the opportunity to fully merge our traditions and create a new one of our very own, and I'm not about to let it happen again. We are undertaking every, single festivity together this year, starting with a brand, new tree."
"We don't need a new tree," Quinn argues with a frown. "The one we have still looks fine." They'd tossed Rachel's tiny tabletop tree in favor of Quinn's prelit, six foot one when they'd moved in together.
"But it's artificial," Rachel reminds her. "I know that you'd really prefer a real tree, so that's what we're getting. We have the room for it. I think," she amends, pausing to press the top of her pen to the side of her mouth as she eyes the corner of their living room.
"Actually, I've gotten kind of fond of the artificial one," Quinn admits with a shrug. "It's nice to be able to put it up earlier, and it's a heck of a lot easier to clean up after." It's true that she used to love the smell and feel of a real tree when she'd been younger, but she can also remember how her mother had to constantly vacuum up those shedding pine needles and Russell had cursed under his breath every time she'd asked him to fill the stand with fresh water. "And can you imagine what Ollie would do to it?" Quinn adds with a raised brow, glancing at their not-so-innocent cat who is currently perched on the back of their sofa with wide, curious eyes trained on the bell at the tip of Rachel's hat. "I'm not sure I even trust him with the tree we already have, but I definitely don't think we should be tempting him with real branches to climb all over."
"He might surprise us," Rachel defends.
Quinn raises a skeptical brow. "Yeah. With the tree knocked over and the ornaments broken on the floor."
Rachel glances at the cat that she'd rescued from the cold—he looks to be about five seconds from flinging himself at her hat, complete with swishing tail and wiggling backside—and sighs. "I suppose it would be wise to err on the side of caution until we see how well he behaves."
As if on cue, Oliver pounces forward with one paw extended and snags the bell on the tip of the hat. Rachel quickly presses a hand to head to secure her accessory and shifts away from him, determinedly adjusting the hat to keep it out of his reach, and Quinn laughs. "I think you mean misbehaves."
Rachel meets Quinn's amused gaze with a pout. "I guess the new tree is a definite no."
"So is the bathroom set," Quinn informs her, leaning over to tap the list in Rachel's lap.
Rachel frowns in confusion, and her eyebrows furrow adorably. "Oliver can't do much damage to that."
"He can if I douse it in catnip and lock him in the bathroom with it."
Rachel gasps, eye's widening. "Quinn!" she chastises. "I thought you loved Christmas."
"I do. And I will happily help you deck every hall in this apartment, but the bathroom is off limits," she insists. "There will be absolutely no Santas, reindeers, or snowmen staring at me while I shower." Never mind doing her other private business.
Rachel's frown curls into teasing smile. "What about elves?" she asks cheekily.
Quinn chuckles. "Just the one," she concedes, playfully tugging at Rachel's hat. "And only if she showers with me."
"I believe that's an acceptable compromise," Rachel tells her with a grin, closing the distance between them until she can brush a soft, coffee-flavored kiss across Quinn's lips, but before Quinn can even begin to properly enjoy the contact, her girlfriend is pulling away with determined eyes and the list clutched in her hands. "Now, let's get moving," she commands, bouncing up from the sofa. "We have a very full schedule of merry-making ahead of us."
"And you'll be checking off your Christmas list," Quinn muses with a smirk.
Rachel bends down, close to Quinn's face. "Just call me Santa, baby," she husks.
Quinn watches Rachel's lips as they form the words, leaning in ever so slightly. "You're wearing the wrong hat for that," she drawls evenly, delighting in Rachel's affronted expression.
"You are so going on the naughty list," Rachel warns as she lightly slaps Quinn's knee.
"I'll show you just how naughty I can be later," Quinn promises, reaching out to tug on the hem of Rachel's very ugly Christmas sweater. It will look so much better on the floor of their bedroom—or in the trash bin—though she might let Rachel keep the hat on.
Rachel bites her lip thoughtfully. "Will I have to spank you?"
"You might," Quinn purrs.
Rachel's eyelids flutter slightly, and she groans under her breath. "Suddenly, decorating is the farthest thing from my mind."
"But we have a full schedule of merry-making ahead of us," Quinn reminds her in amusement as she pushes up from the sofa. She tugs the list out of Rachel's hands and gives it a cursory glance, humming softly before she tosses it onto the cushions. "We won't be needing that."
"Quinn!" Rachel huffs, placing her hands on her hips.
Quinn laughs and rolls her eyes, pulling Rachel closer. "I think we can manage to make this Christmukkah pretty perfect without that list."
"But…"
"Rachel, we've got this," Quinn interrupts. Decorating their apartment will be so much more fun without a list or a schedule. She leans in and captures her girlfriend's lips in a sweet kiss before she pulls back with a smile, and then she gets the pleasure of watching Rachel's face take on that sexy, determined look that she loves so much.
"We've got this," Rachel repeats with a nod.
And they do. The tree and ornaments are shoved underneath the bed in the second bedroom. Quinn is very skilled at compact packing—a talent that she'd honed back in high school under less than ideal circumstances. Of course, Oliver pads into the bedroom when he hears the crinkling of the tree bag as Quinn and Rachel pull it out from underneath the bed, and from that moment on, he makes a silent cat vow to investigate every branch, needle, and light on it. Quinn shoos him out of the bag twice and Rachel tries a third time before they both give up and drag the entire bag—Oliver included—into the living room where the drop it onto the floor.
Rachel turns on the Christmukkah playlist that she'd made (of course) for the occasion, and then they rearrange the chair and ottoman enough to make a space in the corner before Quinn helps Rachel heave the bottom section of the tree into the stand. Quinn moves to put up the middle section, but Rachel stops her.
"We should fluff up the branches first," she suggests.
"Or we could fluff them all after the tree is up." After all, that's the way Quinn has done it in the past.
"It will be easier this way," Rachel insists.
"No, it won't," Quinn argues. "It's easier once you see the whole thing together. Trust me."
Rachel frowns. "But this section is so flat right now." She tugs at a few of the branches, spreading them apart as she continues to eye it critically. .
"It's flat so I could fit it under the bed," Quinn points out.
"Just let me fix the bottom," Rachel pleads. "Then we can see exactly how far from the wall it should be."
Quinn sighs, leaning the middle section she's been holding against the side of the sofa. "Fine," she concedes, watching as Rachel's mouth curve into a triumphant smile before she busies herself with artfully arranging the lower branches. Quinn moves to help her, but Oliver is already sneaking underneath the base of the tree and poking his head up into it. "Oh, no you don't," she warns him, reaching down to drag him back. She picks him up in her arms and catches his mischievous green eyes. "There will be no climbing the tree," she tells him strictly.
Rachel giggles. "He's only curious, Quinn. It's his first Christmas." Her hands still on the branches, and she gasps. "Oh. We have to get him an ornament!" she exclaims with wide eyes. "Do you think we can find one that says Kitty's first Christmukkah?"
Quinn arches her eyebrow. "If anyone can, it's you," she considers, depositing Oliver back onto the sofa—where he doesn't stay.
Pleased with that answer, Rachel turns her attention back to fluffing the branches while Quinn alternates between helping her and discouraging Oliver's more rambunctious curiosity. Eventually, Rachel is satisfied with the bottom of the tree, but then they end up moving it back and forth six times before Rachel is pleased with its position in the room. They finally attach the middle section, and Quinn doesn't even argue when Rachel begins fluffing the branches before Quinn can put on the top.
Once the tree itself is up and lit, they pull out the box of ornaments—another treasure chest for Oliver to explore—and Quinn quickly loses herself in the joy of sharing this experience with Rachel. Even shooing Oliver away from the tree every five minutes doesn't dampen Quinn's happiness as she and Rachel sing carols and unpack every ornament, hanging them on the tree as they tell one another stories of Christmases and Hanukkahs past that they hadn't been able share last year.
Quinn gets a little teary when she pulls out the glass heart engraved with the words my heart comes home for Christmas that Rachel had brought her last year when she'd come back from Houston on Christmas Eve. Rachel smiles knowingly and leans into her side, kissing Quinn's cheek before they hang it on the tree together. On a high branch—where Oliver can't get to it.
Hopefully.
When he knocks the plastic mouse hanging from a Santa hat off a low branch—the one that Mercedes had gotten Quinn sophomore year to encourage her to hang in there—Quinn decides that maybe they should invest in a water bottle, but even that doesn't really bother Quinn. She and Rachel don't need a list, or even the decorations, or a well-behaved cat to make their Christmukkah perfect. All they need is each other.
Much later, after Oliver is worn out from all the excitement, Quinn cuddles close to Rachel on the sofa while the Christmas music plays in the background and they admire their finished tree—decorated with love and twinkling with hundreds of tiny lights. Rachel turns in her arms and presses a warm kiss to Quinn's lips. "Merry Christmas, baby," she murmurs.
Quinn smiles and pulls her closer. "Happy Hanukkah, Rach."
It's the perfect start to the holiday season—and the many holiday seasons to come.