Title: "Merry Christmas, We Think"

Author: carpesomediem

E-Mail: carpesomediem[at]gmail.com

Fandom: Popular

Characters: Brooke/Sam

Rating: G


Warnings/Spoilers: Not mine.  Ryan Murphy, Touchstone, definitely not mine.  Spoilers for "Fall On Your Knees."

Summary: Brooke and Sam have very different views on what Christmas is and how it should be celebrated.

Everybody knows Christmas time is one of the only moments during the year that you throw everything aside and come together as a family.  It doesn't matter if things are good, bad or indifferent during the year, it's the season of forgiveness, family and friends, and if you don't have any of them, you can find some joy in other parts of the season to make up for it.  Everybody can find a little joy in Christmas, even the most Scrooge-like people in the world can wake up that morning and find a little bit of happiness in the new day.  Christmas does that to people, even the most stubborn of them.

For Brooke and Sam, Christmas couldn't be anymore night and day.  Brooke and Mike celebrating the very Hallmark definition of Christmas, complete with fake tree, fake decorations and fake, well, everything.  Sam and Jane celebrating the very spirit of Christmas with a real, fire-causing Douglas Fir, milk and cookies by the fire place and gifts from the heart instead of Rodeo Drive.  Brooke definitely thought the milk and cookies by the fire place was very fake, considering the likelihood of using said fire place was slim to known, but she kept that barb to herself, instead attacking the brunette for mocking her seriousness of all things Christmas.

For Brooke, Christmas was all business.  In many ways, it mirrored her views on popularity.  It was always about maintaining an image for others, it was never about the sincerity behind words and actions.  Brooke McQueen had the be all and end all of Christmas parties every year, and the wait list for an invitation was on par with P. Diddy's White Party in the Hamptons before Labor Day.  Everybody wanted in, very few actually found themselves with a seat and even when they were there, they still didn't think they deserved to be sitting at a dinner table with Brooke herself.

For Sam, Christmas was all about connection.  Ever since her father died, she and her mother had spent Christmas together for every second of the day.  They told stories, exchanged presents and remembered the man they lost.  It was a time of celebration of life, celebrating of the year and celebration of things to come.  It was the most sincere moments shared between the two, and nothing – not even Brooke McQueen – was going to ruin that now that she lived in the Palace and was on the blonde's home turf.

Then, the moment came when they both realized they threw Christmas parties and all hell broke lose when they realize they have to throw one party, together.  Of all the cruel tortures in the world, how in the hell did Mike and Jane expect two girls who celebrate Christmas so radically different, would be able to throw one party that didn't run the spirit for both of them?

This was one of those times that neither wanted to back down, even though deep down, they knew they'd need to in order to celebrate the holiday season at all.  If Christmas was about coming together no matter what the year brought, couldn't they both do the same?  Throw the same party, invite friends and enemies alike, and put everything that happened at Kennedy High behind them for one day just to be close and take in the Christmas spirit?

“You don't understand, Sam,” Brooke followed her into their bathroom, “I do this every year.  There is no other way to do Christmas in the McQueen household.”

“Well,” Sam interjected, standing her ground.  This was one fight that no matter what happened or who said what, you'd have to kill Sam McPherson to let her lose it.  “This isn't just the McQueen household anymore, it's the McQueen/McPherson household, and I have some say in this, too.”

“What do you do for your Christmas party?  Watch cheesy movies and bake cookies?” Brooke responded sarcastically.  She really had no clue what Sam did for Christmas, and she really didn't care, because this was her holiday and hers alone.  She wasn't going to back down either; she was known for her Christmas party, and those expecting a better one this year would get it, no matter what she had to do to make sure it happened.

“No, actually,” Sam rolled her eyes, “I spend it with the people I care about the most, and in this case, I was hoping you'd join me, but since you're apparently incapable of spreading a little Christmas joy, I guess that's not happening.”

“Wait... what did you say?” she asked, flecks of anger deflected by the brunette's honesty.

“I'm not repeating it, I've said my peace, I'm not backing down.  End of story, Brooke,” Sam sighed.  She was tired of fighting over Christmas of all things with the blonde.  Cheerleading, biology, social status, these were things they should be fighting over, but Christmas?  It was a bit too much for her, but it still wasn't enough for her to stop fighting for the holiday she was used to celebrating.

“Fine,” Brooke threw her hands in the air, “We'll find a way to throw the same party that somehow works for both of us.”  She left the bathroom without another word, Sam sighed again, leaned against the counter and wondered just what she'd managed to get into.  Christmas a the Palace would definitely be interesting, but would they be able to pull it off without killing each other in the process?

Yeah, they probably could, but it would be way easier said than done this holiday season.  But who knows?  Maybe they could just pull it off, and maybe just maybe, Sam could come clean as to why she really wanted Brooke to come to her party.  She'd already picked out what she thought would be the perfect gift, but would she be brave enough to give it to the blonde Christmas morning?  Meanwhile, Brooke was thinking along the same lines, except the gift she wanted to give would be just a little more work to pull off, and for once it definitely wasn't from some store on Rodeo Drive.


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