TITLE: Christmas at the X-Mansion

SUMMARY: Fluffy Christmas goodness in Westchester, with a hint of naughtiness at the end. To borrow a phrase from Stormfreak - Sap 'n' Crap at it's best!

Disclaimer: I don't own the X-men - Marvel Comics and Fox Movies have all the fun. If you think I actually make money off this, then you need your head examined.

Christmas carols played softly on the stereo in the common room of the dormitory at the Xavier School for the Gifted in Westchester. This year would definitely be a white Christmas - tomorrow was Christmas Eve and the snow was pouring down, swirling in the winds and drifting in knee high piles at every corner. The weatherman was calling it a blizzard such as hadn't been seen in the last ten years.

Charles Xavier sat by the fire, sipping a mug of steaming wassail punch and gazing with satisfaction at the laughter of the children as they strung popcorn, their shining eyes and bright smiles affirming that he had been right to bring them here. This was as normal an existence as you could get for a mutant.

Jean and Scott had just hung the star on top of the tree. Rogue and Jubilee had been in charge of the stockings, and Bobby and St. John were not pleased with the results.

"Jubes!" screeched Bobby. "Christmas stockings are NOT supposed to be yellow! They are supposed to be red! And what's with the glitter and sequins anyway? I know it's your favorite holiday but in case you didn't notice, it isn't the Fourth of July!"

St. John waggled his fingertips towards the gaudy decorations. "You know Jubilee, if you'd wanted fire, you didn't have to rely on artificial means."

Marie stripped off one of her opera-length gloves (green velvet for the occasion of course) and advanced towards the fire starter, her index finger pointed at his chest. "St. John, please step away from the decorations before I have to get rough with you." She tried for a menacing tone, but the entire effect was ruined by a bad case of the giggles.

St. John threw up his hands in mock surrender and pasted a look of horror on his handsome features. "Oh no! Bobby save me!" With that, all four teenagers erupted into laughter.

Storm slid into an easy chair next to the Professor. "I just love the holiday season. I never knew what it was like to have a family before I came here Professor. What you've done for the children, for all of us is wonderful, and we will be forever grateful."

Charles patted her hand and then gently squeezed her fingers. "It is my dream that our family will continue to grow and prosper. Everyone will be welcome here, for as long as I can bring them. Without your help, and Scott and Jean too this would not be possible." Sudden shouts at the door caused them too look up.

Wolverine was coming through with a large pile of wrapped gifts to go under the tree. After his trip to Alkali Lake had produced no information worth using, he had returned to Westchester and agreed to allow the Professor to help him try and recover his memory. He was still very much a loner, but was gradually coming out of his shell. Jean had talked him into teaching a martial arts course and Scott had roped him into teaching auto mechanics as payback for taking his bike to Alaska. The tension among the three of them had been resolved three weeks before when Scott and Jean had married. Whatever his other faults, Logan didn't dally with married women.

Wolverine hadn't come more than three steps into the room when he was besieged with anxious children asking about the gifts. "Where's mine?" "Can we open them now please?" "I hope I got what I asked for." "What pretty wrappings!"

Storm got up and herded the children away from him so he could deposit the gifts under the tree. "You must wait until Christmas morning to open presents--something you all have been told before," she gently chided them. She tucked her hand into the crook of Logan's elbow and smiled up at him. "What do you say we raid the kitchen and see what goodies we can find?"

An eminently male grin curved his lips and he leaned down to whisper in her ear so the younger ones wouldn't hear. "You and a bottle of chocolate syrup are all the treats I need darlin."