A Partridge in a Pear Tree

Rachel's not sure what convinced her that Puck's idea for a holiday road trip was a good one, but when they ended up stranded on the shoulder of a deserted highway somewhere outside Partridge, Kansas, she was sure that she had never been more wrong.

"I told you that we should have stopped off for gas at that last exit," she grumbled as she watched him fruitlessly walk around in a sunflower field in a vain attempt to get service on his dying cellphone. The population sign nearby said that just under 250 people lived in the tiny town, which meant that the chances of a tow truck happening by were slim at that point. And it was cold, as it was prone to be at the end of December in the Heartland. Rachel leaned out her cracked window and called out to him. "You should come back in the car at least before you freeze to death."

"Don't have to be so dramatic, babe," he smirked when he climbed back into the driver's seat. He pushed his fingers against the screen of his iPhone for a moment before he threw it on the dash. "Look, I got some warmer clothes in the back. I am going to bundle up and see if I can flag someone down. You stay in here and keep the doors locked."

Rachel looked at him as if he was insane. "You are not leaving me here alone."

"You don't exactly have shoes made for hiking with us," he pointed out. He had tried to convince her to pack something more comfortable when they had left New York, but she had insisted on jamming her suitcase full of cute knee-high boots and strappy heels. The weather was always warmer in Los Angeles, and she intended on enjoying every minute of the new pedicure she'd gotten the day before they had left. "Besides, you'll be safer here. You never know what you can encounter on the open road."

"This whole hair-brained scheme was your idea, and you are not going to abandon me on the side of the road just so some lonely trucker can have his way with me," she snapped. "Besides, I'm cold and hungry, and maybe walking will distract me from one or the other."

"I think I have one of those pear-cranberry energy bars somewhere in my backpack," he said before leaning over the back of his seat to find it. Her dark eyes lit up when he produced not only the bar but also a banana and a small packet of trail mix he had snatched from the motel mini-bar that morning. "Take your pick, babe. Don't act like I don't treat my girl right."

"My hero," she rolled her eyes before opting for the banana. She peeled away the skin carefully, tucking it into the paper bag she kept in the pocket of the door for trash, and broke it in half. She handed over the slightly longer piece of the fruit to him with an apologetic smile. Arguing wasn't going to get them anywhere, and if she had to be broken down on the side of the highway on Christmas weekend with anyone, she was glad that it was her boyfriend.

Puck filled his backpack with anything he didn't want to get taken should anything happen and then carefully locked his truck behind him. It was the same one he'd had since high school, the one she had begged him to sell when he had finally moved to New York during the spring semester of their junior year of college. They had reconnected over a lost summer in Lima and Rachel had lasted all of nine weeks in New York before she had begged him to transfer. It hadn't really taken much prodding on her part.

"Come on, Berry," he murmured as he took her mittened hand in is. He looked down at the fuzzy pink thing with its yellow snowflake pattern and silly balls dangling from the wrist. She was so cute sometimes. "I think we're about 10 miles or so from Hutchinson. Hopefully someone will come along or we'll get reception."

It was late enough at night that she knew the chances of too much traffic happening by were slim. They had wanted to drive straight through the night and get to California by the early afternoon so they could enjoy Christmas dinner with Brittany and Finn. She still couldn't believe that the two of them were not only together but had been married for three years and had a one-year-old son. She had been with Noah for five years now and they had only recently started talking about getting engaged. Rachel and Puck didn't even celebrate Christmas, but their old friends had insisted that they come by on their way through. Puck never turned down free food, and Rachel thought it might be good to see their son again.

"It's so quiet out here," she whispered. She wasn't sure why she was keeping her voice soft, but it just felt right beneath the blanket of glittering stars. "I don't think I've ever heard anything so silent. It's never like this in the city."

"It'd be unsettling if it wasn't so damn beautiful," he replied, looking more at her than at the impressive landscape around them. "I really am sorry about all this, babe. I know that this is the last way you want to be spending part of our trip together."

Any anger that she had toward her boyfriend was now gone. His apology was so genuine and she could see love shining in those hazel eyes that she adored so much. "At least we're together," she said, squeezing his hand. "It'll work out as long as we have that, right? It always does."

Puck had been thinking about how he wanted to do this for a long time. He had previously thought he'd fly their parents in and ask her over some elaborate dinner in New York. And then he thought maybe he could ask her during the opening night party the director threw during her last show. Neither of those had seemed like enough, so he had almost proposed when everyone was back in Lima for their ten-year reunion over the summer. Yet, as he stopped and looked down at her beneath that late harvest moon, Puck didn't want to wait anymore. He wasn't sure if it was the perfect moment, but it was certainly the right one.

"Hey, Rach?"

"Hmm?" she murmured as she stopped walking a few paces ahead of him, their fingers still entwined. "What's wrong?"

"Let's get married."

It wasn't the fairytale proposal that Rachel had always envisioned, but that didn't surprise her a bit. This was Noah and he wasn't like anyone else she had ever known. He did things his own way, and over the years, she had learned to not only embrace but quite love that method of operation.

"Alright," she grinned. He reached up and cupped her chin in his hand, the fabric of his old leather gloves sliding easily against her smooth skin. "But I want a ring."

"It's in the drop dresser drawer under my socks," he promised her. He'd had it for a year, ever since she had stopped to look at it one spring day when they were window shopping near Times Square. "It's already sized and everything. You can have it as soon as we get home."

"Speaking of which," she smiled. A pair of headlights flashed up ahead. "It looks like we're saved!"

Puck was relieved when not only did someone stop but it also happened to be a uniformed sheriff on his way home to Partridge. The older man was happy to drive them back to the bigger city to get a gas can and then to where there car was still parked on the side of the road. Puck was grateful but quiet on the ride, smiling in the backseat while Rachel rode up front and learned all about each of the man's seven grandchildren. He left them with warm wishes for the holiday, and Rachel made sure that she had his address so that she could send him a wedding invitation.

Author's Note: This will be a series of Puckleberry unrelated one shots dealing with each of the Twelve Days of Christmas.