A/N: Someday I'm going to write a SPN crossover fic where Sam and Dean go ghost-hunting at the old mansion and encounter Lida and Maurice. Until then, have some Sculder Christmas fluff.

Episode tag to Season 6, Episode 6, "How the Ghosts Stole Christmas." (No real spoilers, though.)

Enjoy, and let me know what you think.

All rights belong to the creators.

He was probably asleep. She ought to have called first; he could be halfway to Martha's Vineyard by now, and then wouldn't she look a fool? All things she had said to herself on the drive to Arlington, attempts to talk herself out of showing up unannounced on Mulder's doorstep at three a.m. on Christmas Day.

But he was at home, and not asleep—at least, not asleep after she finished knocking—and here she was, sitting on a couch tugging at recalcitrant paper ribbon knots with the person she realized she did want to spend Christmas with.

"You really tied this on here," she said, picking at the knot.

"Just rip the paper," Mulder suggested. He tore the wrapping off his gift from her and laughed. Scully felt the heat rise in her cheeks and ducked her head to hide the blush with her hair.

"I realize it's a bit more PG-rated than what you usually watch," she said drily.

He bumped her shoulder. "Shut up. It's great. 'Miracle on 34th Street.' I haven't watched this since I was a kid."

Scully succeeded in opening the end of the package and pulled out a long, brightly patterned metal tube. One end was covered and the other had a pinhole of plain glass set in it.

"It's a-" Mulder began.

"A kaleidoscope," Scully finished. "Thank you." She put her eye to the scope and slowly turned the lower half of the tube, watching the plastic shapes form and reform fractal structures.

"Most of the time," Mulder said, "when you're looking through a scope, it's at something dangerous that's trying to kill us. I thought—you might like to look at something pretty."

She smiled. "With my luck, it's a haunted kaleidoscope that will still try to kill me."

"I thought you didn't believe in ghosts, Scully," Mulder teased.

"I don't," she said lightly. "It's all in our minds." She tapped the video case. "Are we going to watch this or what?"

Mulder sat back. "Seriously, isn't there an extended family roll call you're supposed to be presiding over?"

"Not at three o'clock in the morning. And I'm not going anywhere until it stops snowing; it was hard enough getting over here."

"Oh, is it snowing?"

She thwacked his chest with the kaleidoscope. "Don't you ever look outside?"

"Not when there's something better to look at," he said, looking at her.

Scully glanced away fast and slouched into the sofa, started fiddling with the kaleidoscope again. Mulder began humming "White Christmas," badly and off-key, and gathering up the discarded wrapping paper. The blues and reds and greens of the plastic inside the scope shone by their own light, reflected off the inner mirrors. It was almost like watching snowflakes, tiny pieces rattling into place to show here a new design.

She wanted to ask why he wasn't with his mother on Christmas. Did they not celebrate it? Were they arguing again? He'd sidestepped all her hints and openings; whatever the reason, he didn't want to discuss it.

"I dropped the gifts off at Mom's after Mass," Scully said, picking up the thread of Mulder's earlier question. "They can open them in the morning. I told Mom I'd join everyone for brunch tomorrow." She lowered the kaleidoscope and turned it over in her hands. "I just couldn't face another—Do you ever feel like you're with a bunch of people who know you but can't see you? Like you're there, but not really there."

"A ghost at your own party?" Mulder smiled wryly. "Yeah, I know the feeling well."

They stared at each other, and Scully suddenly wanted nothing more than to close the two feet between them and hug him, bury her face in his shoulder and feel his arms tight around her.

But she didn't.

She set the kaleidoscope carefully on the coffee table and stood up. "We need popcorn if we're going to watch the movie. Kitchen's this way, right?"

"Yeah. Hey." He reached out and snagged her wrist, waited until she turned and met his gaze. "I see you," he said.

She smiled. "I know you do."

Halfway through the movie, Scully jerked awake. The bowl of slightly burnt popcorn had slipped from her lap. The lamp was turned off, and the orange glow from the streetlight showed snowflakes still swirling past the window.

She was crushed awkwardly into the corner of the couch. At some point, Mulder had fallen asleep and slid down on top of her with his head resting on her chest. Her right arm was going numb from his weight on it.

She stretched out a hand for the remote and almost fell off the couch entirely when she grabbed it. She clicked off the video. Mulder snorted awake and started to lever himself off her. "Sorry," he mumbled. "You're comfy…"

"I am, aren't I? No, lie back down." She tucked her legs up under her and scooted around until she could rest her head on the arm of the couch. Mulder relaxed against her, falling back asleep almost immediately, and she flipped an afghan off the back of the couch to cover them both. Her legs would be pins and needles and she'd have a crick in her neck by morning, but she didn't care. This was where she wanted to be.

Scully leaned down and kissed his hair and whispered, "I see you too."

Mulder woke up face down on the couch on Christmas morning when a sweater landed on his head.

"Get dressed, we're going to be late," Scully ordered, breezing by.

The sweater slid off onto the floor. A row of somber knitted reindeer stared up at him accusingly. He sat up fast and winced at the bright white light bouncing in from the snow outside.

"That sweater was the most festive thing I could find in your bedroom." Scully's voice came from the kitchen, accompanied by toaster-y noises. "I didn't know you had a bedroom. I thought that door was a closet."

"Surprise to me too," Mulder muttered. He picked up the sweater, shrugged, and pulled it on over his tee shirt. "What are we going to be late for?" he called, stumbling into the kitchen on sock feet.

"Christmas brunch at my mother's." Scully shoved a warm toaster pastry into his mouth and stood on tiptoe to smooth down his sleep-wild hair. "You're coming with me."

"Mm-fmm?"

"Yes, you are. She'll be delighted, trust me. You'll be cooed over by five octogenarian Irish Catholic ladies and made to hold at least two babies." She grinned. "And it's not Christmas until you've had hot cross buns and been spat on by a baby."

Her smile, her real smile, was so dazzling and rare and genuine he wanted to kiss her every time it appeared.

But he didn't.

He swallowed a bite of pastry with difficulty. "Sounds fun." He hesitated. "Is your brother Bill going to be there?"

"Of course." She disappeared back out to the living room and reappeared holding his shoes. "Why do you ask?"

"No reason." He took the shoes and she sighed, walking away. "He doesn't hate you, Mulder," she said.

"Mm, yeah, pretty sure he does," Mulder muttered to himself.

"He's just overprotective of me." She stuck her head around the kitchen doorway. "Wait, what did he say to you?"

Mulder felt trapped. "Nothing."

She raised one eyebrow. "Mulder."

He took her arm and guide her toward her coat, thrown over a chair in the entry. "Nothing, really. He just had a few choice words for me at the hospital, when you were sick. Tensions were high. He was justified. I'm just—not his favorite person."

Scully's eyes narrowed. "I'm going to kill him."

"No, you're not."

"No, I am!" She whipped around and stalked back to get her purse off his desk chair. "In a nice, passive-aggressive, sisterly way, I'm going to kill him. He always does this. I'm tired of it."

Mulder plucked the kaleidoscope from where Scully had tucked it, along with the video, in the stocking he'd hung on the bookcase. He offered it to her. "Deep breaths. Look at pretty things."

She took the colored metal tube automatically and transferred her glare to it. Then her face softened and she breathed out a laugh at herself. "Sorry."

"No, no, don't apologize. You can defend my honor anytime."

She slipped the kaleidoscope into her purse. "I'll try not to kill him over brunch."

"That's probably best." He held the door for her to precede him.

"I'll wait until Boxing Day. He'll never see it coming."

"And why would he?"

Scully's cell phone rang while they waited for the elevator. "I'm still coming, Mom," Scully said, by way of hello. "And I'm bringing someone with me." She rolled her eyes. "Yes, it's a guy. Yes, you've met him. Mom, stop, please. Oh, and could you tell Bill to lay off?" She caught Mulder's eye and smiled. "I like this one. I think I want to keep him."

"What am I, a dog?" Mulder murmured, guiding her into the elevator with a hand at her back.

Scully pointed at the button panel. "Down, boy. No, not you, Mom. We'll be there soon, okay? Merry Christmas."

"And merry Christmas to you, Scully," Mulder said. He pulled her into a hug from behind as the doors closed and the elevator lowered them down to street level and a snow-white world.

Scully leaned her head back against his chest and tucked her hand over his at her waist. Mulder wasn't sure about this Christmas brunch thing, no matter Scully's assurances, but as long as her was with her, he was exactly where he wanted to be, any day of the year.

She tilted her head up and smiled at him. "Merry Christmas, Mulder."

And it was.