I hope everyone is having a fantastic Faberry Week! XD I know I am; I'm loving seeing our fandom come together with so much awesome Faberry goodness.

This is written for Day 4, prompt "Caught." It will be a short story, not very many chapters long, so I should have it all finished and posted within a few days.

Happy Birthday to Rachel Barbra Berry! :D In honor of our favorite dramatic little diva, I will adopt her philosophy: "I need applause to live." My philosophy is the same, but substitute "applause" for "reviews." ;) Haha.

This story takes place during season two, in December. Yay Christmastime! xD It's canon, except for a few things, like Santana and Brittany are already a couple, and Finn and Rachel did break-up, but then Finn went out with Quinn for a week before they broke-up, too. (You'll see more what I mean when you read the story.)

As always, I hope you guys enjoy! :)

CHAPTER ONE

"All right," Mr. Schuester said, clapping his hands together to capture the attention of his chatty Glee Clubbers. It being a Friday, they were all excited for practice to end so they could start the weekend. "Settle down, everybody. I have an announcement to make!"

As the teenagers fell into silence and blinked at him with expectance, he cleared his throat and continued. "We haven't been acting like a team lately. Everyone has been bickering like children, and frankly, I'm sick of it."

"Aren't there child labor laws that keep kids from brickering?" Brittany Pierce whispered to her girlfriend, Santana Lopez.

"No, it's bickering, and you mean bricklaying."

"So, I've decided that we all desperately need something fun to boost our morale, something that will make each of us do something selfless for somebody else in here," Mr. Schue said. "You may not want to at first, but I promise, giving is the best thing for the soul."

"Okay, ew, Mr. Schuester, this isn't that kind of club," Tina Cohen-Chang said with disgust.

He sighed. "I'm not referring to anything inappropriate, Tina."

Noah "Puck" Puckerman's eyes dimmed and smile fell.

"What I'm talking about is… Secret Santa!" Mr. Schue beamed.

"Aw, right!" Artie Abrams pumped his fist in the air.

"You are aware that some of us here are Jewish, right?" Rachel Berry said, sitting up straighter in her front-row-center seat and crossing her arms over her chest. She lifted her chin in defiance.

From two rows directly above her, Quinn Fabray pursed her lips at the back of the girl's head. "Chill; it's not like we're making you eat bacon."

"God, Quinn, can you go one whole conversation without mentioning your love for the greasy fatty animal strips known as 'bacon' to you, and 'senseless murder' to the rest of us who actually have a conscious?" Rachel snapped back, twisting halfway around to glare at her.

Quinn's eyebrows jumped at the heated tone, but she held her hands up in surrender. "All I'm saying is, Santa is the part of Christmas that has nothing to do with religion."

"Unless your religion is consumerism," Mike Chang said.

"Or the religion of jolly fat bellies, cookies and milk, and long white beards," said Sam Evans. "Like my uncle Earl."

"So, you know," Quinn said, still speaking to Rachel – whose face was no longer furious, but rather flickering into a careful brand of thoughtfulness, "you should participate." She broke eye-contact to smooth out her long, Bohemian-style skirt. "Not that I care, but…whatever."

"Yes, Rachel," Mr. Schue finally said, making her attention face forward again to land on him. "Of course I'm aware that not everyone here celebrates Christmas, which is why this is a completely voluntary assignment. Do you want me to take your name out of the basket? Puck, how about you?" He held up said woven basket from on top of the piano and waved it back and forth so that a sea of little white strips of folded paper tumbled over one another.

"Nah, I'll participate," Puck said. "Any excuse to get presents, right? I just hope whoever gets me doesn't choose something totally lame."

"Yeah, that'd be such a waste," Artie shot him an agreeing nod.

"That's the holiday spirit," Santana sneered.

"How about you, Rachel?" Mr. Schue asked.

Before she could answer, Finn Hudson spoke up from where he sat a few chairs over from Rachel. "I think you should do it, Rach. It will be more fun if everyone joins in."

Rachel whipped to face him, her face lighting up with a delighted grin at his direct address of her. "O-okay, Finn! You're right…and as Glee co-captain, I need to set an example for everyone else."

"You really don't," Mercedes Jones said. "We're capable of making our own decisions without your lead."

Finn smiled his trademark half-smile at Rachel. "Cool. They'd all appreciate that."

"Do they even realize how arrogant they are, or does it just come second nature to them?" Mercedes stage-whispered to Lauren Zises.

"Probably second nature," said Lauren.

"More like first nature," an eavesdropping Santana corrected.

Quinn glared down at Finn and Rachel, smiling at each other, and folded her arms over her chest. "Wow, of course Rachel only wants to do it now that Finn tugged her little leash for her and told her to."

Rachel shot up and spun to face Quinn, jabbing a finger at her. "That's enough out of you, Fabray!"

Quinn stood up and planted her hands on her hips. "And what are you going to do about it? Careful with the tone, or Santa is going to have to fire you from the North Pole. You can't be his special elf with anger issues like that."

"I wouldn't want to be an elf regardless because they aren't unionized and probably get paid less than minimum wage!" Rachel retorted.

Before she could stop it, a small but amused smile flickered at Quinn's lips, sparking in her eyes. Only Rachel would come up with a comeback like that, she thought.

"Don't you laugh at me!" Rachel stomped her foot with so much petulance, and it might have been one of the cutest things Quinn had ever seen, especially with how much indignity flashed through those big, bright brown eyes.

Quinn bit down on her lower lip to keep it from tugging further back; she sat back down and crossed her hands in her lap, trying not to notice the way Rachel's dorky red-with-white-snowflakes sweater hugged against her breasts whenever she puffed out her chest like that. "Whatever you say, Jingles."

"Oh, wow, what an original elf name," Rachel made a show of rolling her eyes. "I am so impressed!" She dropped back into her chair with a huff, crossing her arms. Half a second later, she turned around to shoot Quinn a quick glare. "That was sarcasm, by the way!" She faced forward again and flipped her shoulder-length brown hair over her shoulder.

And this time, as everyone watched Mr. Schuester for his reaction, Quinn let herself indulge in a full, secret smile, lips closed but eyes open with tender affection.

Mr. Schue chose to ignore all the quarrelling; instead, he pasted on a tight smile. Just two more weeks until winter break, he told himself. Just two more weeks, and you're home free…

"You will all come up one by one and select a name from the basket," he said. "You are not to tell anyone whose name you draw. Next week, every day you will leave a note in your person's locker; you can make it a mystery and a series of clues, you can write poems, or even just nice little messages like 'I hope you have a fantastic day.' Then, on Friday's Glee practice, we will all gather here with the gifts we bought – a ten- to –twenty-dollar price rang – and exchange them with our Secret Santa." He paused for a moment to let that all sink in. "Sound good?"

When he was met with more nods and smiles than grumbles and eye-rolls (though there were plenty of those, too) he grinned and plopped the basket back onto the piano. "All rightie! Who wants to come on up and draw first? Remember, this is Secret Santa; it takes the fun out of it if you all know who each other has. Also, I feel I should remind certain people" he raised his eyebrows at Puck, who scowled back "that the notes and gift you choose should all be school-appropriate."

As Mr. Schue spoke, Rachel only half-listened. She side-eyed Finn, who watched their teacher with rapt attention. The wheels cranked in Rachel's mind, greasing with a fresh scheme and picking up speed until her heart started accelerating with that familiar mix of determination and excitement.

Ever since Finn had broken up with her last month, she had been plotting ways to get him to take her back. Her high school experience was not complete without him on her arm, her Glee co-captain and star football player who all the girls swooned over and yet he had chosen Rachel time and time again.

Until he had chosen Quinn, getting back together with the blonde just a week after he had dumped Rachel.

Of course, he had only dated Quinn for a week – last week – until he'd decided to dump her, too, over the weekend. Rachel remembered the smug joy she'd felt this past Monday when Finn and Quinn had walked into the choir room separately, had not sat next to each other, and didn't speak the whole time.

Rachel had cornered Finn afterward and asked him if he and Quinn were having issues. When Finn told her he had broken up with Quinn, Rachel had had to run off without responding to him so that she could engage in a fit of excited giggles, fist pump the air a few times, and happy-dance. (And then she had had to pay Jacob Ben Israel – who had been lurking behind the dumpster at the corner of the hall she had taken to, filming the whole thing for his blog – her lunch money for a week so he would erase that particular part of his tape.)

Since then, she'd been playing it subtle and coy with Finn, only having hinted – and flat-out saying – that they should resume their place as top Glee couple – usurping current title-holders Brittany and Santana – only twice this week instead of every time she wanted to, which was every time she saw him.

And now, Mr. Schue was presenting the perfect plan for her on a silver platter! Well, okay, more like in a woven basket, but same thing, kind of.

She had to get Finn for Secret Santa; she would choose the most perfect, most sentimental, most romantic gift, and Finn would tear-up when receiving it and take her back right then and there, pulling her into his arms and dipping her back like in an old black-and-white romance movie as he kissed her long and deep, and the school orchestra would just so happen to be walking by at the time and practicing their instrumental version of 'Can You Feel the Love Tonight.'

Suck it, Fabray! Rachel thought with maniacally wide and gleaming eyes, a wicked smirk stealing up her mouth. Better than reclaiming Finn as her boyfriend was the satisfaction she would get in rubbing it in Quinn's stupidly perfect little face of beauty and loveliness and all those other synonyms for 'gorgeous.' Not that she always thought about Quinn and how pretty she was, of course, but it was just impossible not to notice it… Anyway. Her plan to get Finn back was complete, and now all Rachel had to do was ensure she was his Secret Santa.

Maybe she should thank the jolly fat man after all. You know, as soon as he invested in some other means of transportation rather than using those poor reindeer.

"I would like to draw first!" Rachel said, jumping up and smoothing her hands down the sides of her miniskirt, a shade of red that perfectly matched her sweater. She had at least paired some black tights with them to ward off the winter cold from her legs. Also, the last time she had worn a skirt with all that bare skin showing, she knew she had seen Quinn staring at her legs, which meant that the blonde was surely criticizing them for not being as long, toned, and former-cheerleader-y as her own.

"Okay, Rachel, then come on down!" Mr. Schue said in a Price is Right voice and way too cheery grin that elicited no laughs but rather some grimaces and an awkward cough through the ensuing silence.

A skip to her step, Rachel bounded over to the basket and stood on tippy-toe to get the best access to it. Tongue peeking out the side of her mouth in faux-concentration, she plunged a hand into the basket…and then pretended to wobble on the toes of her shiny black Mary-Janes.

"Whu-WHOOOAAAA!" she shouted with a superb amount of horror and surprise, if she did say so herself, popping her eyes wide and dropping her jaw and spinning her arms through the air wildly as she rocked herself from side-to-side.

"Oh my God; it's happening," Santana whispered to Brittany with thinly-controlled glee, "She's finally cracked!"

"Stop the madness," Brittany whimpered.

"Oh dear; I am about to FAAALL!" Rachel cried, pitching herself to the side – and making sure to knock the basket off the piano with her. Mr. Schue jumped forward to try to catch her, but Rachel was already hitting the ground on her hip (ouch, that would leave a bruise for sure, but it was a small price to pay for love – and getting to rub said 'love' in Quinn Fabray's face, of course). She landed amongst the flurry of white paper slips that had fallen from the upturned basket.

"I have fallen," she said in a raspy voice, as if all the wind and strength had been knocked out of her. She stretched out a twitching hand in front of her and looked over at Finn with heavy, pathetic blinks.

"Get her some water!" Brittany leaned forward in her seat, fingers gripping the edges of her chair. "Medic; medic!"

"Are you okay, Rachel?" Finn asked, starting to stand up to help her, but Mr. Schue beat him to it.

Sighing to himself – just two more weeks, William, just TWO MORE WEEKS – Mr. Schue bent down and helped Rachel back to her feet.

Quinn gaped at Rachel, hardly believing a person as dramatic and dorky as this could actually exist…and feeling her lips fighting not to smile that she did.

"I'm fine," Rachel said, nodding grimly as she dusted herself off. "Thanks, Mr. Schuester. My hip has been bruised, but at least my talent is uninjured."

Mr. Schue knelt to pick up the basket, and was about to start collecting the twelve slips of paper, too, until Rachel cried out, panicked, "Wait!"

He halted, looked at her with a cocked eyebrow of annoyance. "What is it?"

"Nothing, just, uh…let me get all that for you. As I was the one who was clumsy enough to knock it over in the first place," she said with what she thought was a winsome smile, though it just made Mr. Schue release a tired breath.

"All right," he said.

Rachel dropped to her knees and started sifting through the papers, pulling them all into a big pile to scoop up. As subtly as possible, she squinted and used her pinky finger to bend open the strips as she did so, searching for Finn's name. She couldn't peel them open enough to read the whole name without giving away what she was doing. She saw 'ren,' 'edes,' 'Pu', and even 'Santa', amusingly enough (she knew it would spell out 'Santana' if you opened up the whole paper, but she giggled to herself at imagining Santa Claus actually being in their Glee Club), and finally, her eyes found 'in.' You know which name in here had the letters 'in' in them? Finn, that's who!

Grinning with pride and jubilance, she plucked that strip of paper between two careful fingers and stood up. "I'll collect the rest later," she told Mr. Schue. "But this is the one I want to choose for Secret Santa!"

"All right," Mr. Schue smiled. "Open it up and give it a read, but don't say it out loud."

"Of course not," Rachel smirked in victory and peeled the paper all the way open, letting her greedy eyes feast upon it and confirm that her epic plan had been a success thus far.

But when she read the full-version of the name, she had to control a groan from popping out. Tina, the paper read. Those two stupid letters, the 'i' and 'n' next to each other, mocked her.

She thought fast. "I, uh, I got my own name. I'll have to draw again." Hurrying back to her knees, she re-folded the paper and set it aside, pawing through the papers again.

"For Santa's freaking sake, just choose one already," Puck huffed. "By the time you get done, Christmas will already be here!"

Rachel ignored him – and the echoes of disgruntled agreement from more than half of the choir room – and searched desperately for Finn's name, which was hard to do when she could only see a few letters. Finally, she found it – nudging one strip of paper halfway open showed 'inn.' It had to be Finn this time!

Leaping back to her feet, she smirked with even more satisfaction this time and unfurled the paper, reading the name of her destined-to-be lover…

Oh, Barbra, NO!

Her eyes froze in wide-eyed glee until the emotion inside of them slipped into horror. Her smirk twitched painfully tight, a mockery of triumph. Her heart fell right out of her chest and flopped around all over the other paper strips, like a fish out of water.

Because you know who else has 'inn' in their name?

According to the slip of paper and Mr. Schue's messy handwriting: Quinn.

Quinn

freaking

Fabray.

! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! Rachel thought. (That was it. Her emotion could be summed up in a series of exclamation points.)

"I have to draw again," Rachel said quickly, the previous panic returning but ten times stronger. She whirled toward Mr. Schue. "There's been a mistake."

"I know I wrote each person's name only once, so no, there hasn't been another mistake," Mr. Schue said sternly. "You get who you get. Now, please, go sit back down so we can move along here."

"But Mr. Schuester – "

"No, Rachel! You are being incredibly rude and selfish. Got sit down!"

Feeling properly shamed and scolded, Rachel frowned down at the piece of paper, balling it up in her fist, as she stormed back over to her seat and sank down in it, posture slumped and heart deflated.

Out of all the people in here, she had to get her freaking arch-nemesis for Secret Santa! She would have to play it nice and buy a gift for the girl who hated her and always stole Finn from her. What were the odds of that happening, huh?! (Well, one-out-of-twelve, to be exact, but it felt more like one-out-of-one-thousand, and Rachel had of course gotten stuck with her anyway.)

After Mr. Schuester picked up the papers and put them back in the basket, he called up whoever wanted to go next.

Rachel watched with bitter jealousy as one by one, her fellow Glee Clubbers walked up to the basket and pulled out a name. One of them would be getting a name that read Finn. That slip of paper belonged to her! She had bruised her hip over it and everything! Had tossed all dignity out the window for it. Had kneeled down on dirty choir room tile for it. UGH!

Carefully, she gauged their reactions, seeing if someone mouthed Finn's name when reading their paper to their self, or if they looked over at the boy, or any other tell. She got nothing. These people sucked at being obvious. (They could really learn a thing or two from her sometime, she thought with scathing contempt for their poker faces.)

Last to choose from the basket was Quinn. Rachel sat up straighter as the blonde strode to the piano, her Bohemian-print skirt swishing against the ankles of her little black booties, her golden-blonde hair swinging between her shoulder blades like a freaking shampoo commercial.

Side-eyeing Finn, Rachel saw that he stared after Quinn with a puppy-dog look in his eyes, which was incredibly annoying and confusing, because he had broken up with her, so why did he appear to be fawning over her? Typical boy behavior, she figured, always wanting what they can't have, even if they were the one to decide they couldn't have it.

She stopped checking out Finn from her peripheral vision and focused fully on Quinn instead as she dropped her hand into the basket and pulled out the last slip of paper.

Quinn unfurled it, and there, just for a second but there!, sprang a pleasantly surprised little smile on those stupidly full and pretty lips, a weirdly shy sort of happiness in her eyes before she was resuming her normal appearance of indifference.

But as that tender expression flickered over the blonde's countenance, Rachel could have sworn Quinn sent it at the front-row.

Besides herself, the only person in the front row was Finn…

Rachel's blood ran cold.

No, she thought. It couldn't be…

But it was. It had to be.

Quinn had gotten Finn for her Secret Santa.

And if that look had been any indication, she still pined after the boy and was going to use this to her advantage to win him back, just like Rachel had been planning.

"Okay, guys, that concludes this Friday's Glee lesson!" Mr. Schue was saying, but Rachel was busy glowering at Quinn as she swished by in her stupidly fashionable skirt, the stupid scent of lovely, sweet-floral perfume wafting from her as she passed in this stupid way that made Rachel's stomach kind of flutter. Which was just so stupid…and flowery.

She strained her neck and eyeballs trying to discreetly read Quinn's slip of paper, but Quinn had already folded it back over and was cradling it within the palm of her hand, protecting it as if it were a baby bird.

"I'll see you all next week," Mr. Schue continued. "Have a good, safe weekend!"

Chairs scraped back and backpacks hoisted onto shoulders, chatter filling the air as they prepared to leave for the weekend.

And Rachel, she squeezed the slip of paper with Quinn's name on it harder into her fist, the wheels in her mind turning anew as she rethought her plan.

This wasn't over yet.

She could still get Finn as her Secret Santa, and thus, get him as her boyfriend.

And, of course, get to rub it in Quinn's face.

Rachel's calculating smirk returned; she started rubbing her hands together, feeling the paper crumble and gather sweat between her palms.

Merry Christmas, Fabray, she thought. I hate to break it to you, but you're going to get a mighty big lump of coal in your stocking. And that lump of coal is me kissing Finn in front of you. Oh yes, I've seen how jealous you get over it, how whenever we kiss, you look like you want to rip us away from one another, surely so you can claim Finn's mouth with your despicably pretty one. Seriously, what kind of lip-balm do you use? Er, anyway: So, blondie, instead of singing 'ho, ho, ho' this holiday season, I will be chirping a different tune. And that tune is 'ha…ha…h- '

"Rachel?"

Mr. Schue's voice yanked her from her thoughts; her now-startled gaze jumped to his exhausted one.

"Are you going to sit there rubbing your hands together all weekend, or can you go so I can lock the door behind us?"

Embarrassment coloring her cheeks red, she swiveled in her seat to find that she was the only one left. Plotting revenge on your enemy tends to space you out, she thought.

"Oh, right, sorry." She stood and shouldered her schoolbag and purse.

"It's okay," Mr. Schue said with a tired smile and even more so tired eyes.

Two more weeks, he coached himself. Just two more weeks…

And Rachel, she was thinking, Two more days… Just two more days…

For after the weekend, she would launch the next phase of her plan into action.

For once, Monday couldn't get here fast enough.