A/N: Thanks for the fantastic reviews! If you've been following the "'Twas the Night Before Christmas" verses (and why haven't you? lol), there are only three more chapters left. I'll probably finish them all by tomorrow since I'll be busy come Christmas Eve and Day, but I will have time to at least post one chapter per day until the twenty-fifth.

While Joey was on a train with no mistletoe or wreath,

He saw a man in a red suit, could the real St. Nick be underneath?

Meanwhile Phoebe fried doughnuts filled with cheese or jelly,

And yearned to tell all about the surprise with which she felt bellied.

Chapter 7

Joey was torn. He wanted to be upset that the train was delayed because he wouldn't be able to reach his friends sooner. But he couldn't help but think himself fortunate that he was stuck on a train with a hot woman in need of comfort. The conductor had announced that there was a technical difficulty and that it would be at least another hour before the train started moving.

"What'd your mom say?" Joey asked, his voice full of concern. Melinda lived on her own in Queens, but was taking the train through the city to her family in Westchester.

Tears in her eyes, Melinda answered, "She says that everyone sends their love and hopes that I'll get there soon. I wish I was there so much!"

"Aw, it's okay," Joey comforted. In a smooth move, he offered his shoulder for Melinda to cry on. She accepted and went over to his side of the short entryway.

"I'm sorry about this," Melinda blurted through tears. "I don't usually break down in front of strangers like this. I'm so embarrassed."

Joey shrugged. "Hey, don't worry about it. One time, I flashed a total stranger. I didn't notice she was in the room with my friends, but I didn't let it bother me. I closed my robe and walked back out."

"You're lying," Melinda teasingly accused. She'd managed to lift her head and wipe her eyes dry.

"Nope. I don't embarrass easily," Joey explained. "Especially with my friends. You're most comfortable around your best friends, right? And trust me, these are the best friends a guy could have…" Joey trailed off when he felt himself choke up at the thought. He could understand Melinda's distress over not reaching her family because his friends were like his family.

He could imagine it now…the guys watching television and the kids at the same time, while Phoebe and Rachel helped Monica prepare delicious Christmas Eve dinner. Monica had told him she was making fish especially for him. "I want my fish!" he exclaimed suddenly.

Melinda raised an eyebrow at him. "What?"

"I-I mean, I want my friends," Joey corrected. "See, I have this really tight group of friends, and I've been missing them since I moved to California. A lot. But I feel kind of guilty since I never got a chance to get presents for their kids. I sent ahead presents for them, but I had no idea what to get kids, you know?"

Melinda gave him an amused smile. "Toys, maybe?"

"Man, if it were that simple, that'd be great," Joey said with a long sigh. "But what toy? You've got your stuffed animals, your baby toys, your board games, your Power Ranger action figures! Ross said I should just get Emma a Barbie doll, but did you know there were like, a million different Barbie dolls? I mean, how do I know if I'm supposed to get her Barbie Diamond Princess, or Barbie Entertainment Princess, or Barbie Splash and Style Mermaid…"

Melinda laughed. "I take it you've never had to buy a young girl a present before?"

"Oh, no, I have seven sisters – Barbie and I are good friends," Joey assured her. "There's just so many!"

About to reply, Melinda nodded to a train passenger in a red suit a few rows in front of them. "Why don't you just ask Santa what little Emma wants?"

Joey followed her gaze, and gasped. There, right in their line of vision, was the spitting image of Santa Claus. The large belly, the bright red suit, black boots, and a long, white beard. And the beard looked very real. "Well, even if I did," Joey mused aloud. "You think he would tell me? Or would break Santa-child confidentiality?"

"I don't know," Melinda said, his comment causing her to burst out laughing. "I doubt he is Santa. But he does look a lot like Tim Allen."

His face red, Joey muttered, "Well, of course it's not Santa," But for a split second, he'd almost thought he'd come face-to-face with old Saint Nick himself. "I mean, uh, the guy probably plays Santa at the mall and knows what Emma would want since he listened to little girls' Christmas lists all day."

"Right," Melinda laughed, but seemed to buy his cover. She was soon distracted when a young girl approached Santa and asked to sit on his lap. "Aw, isn't that cute? She thought he was really Santa. Her mom must be so embarrassed."

Joey nodded in agreement. "Yeah. What did you want from Santa when you were little like that?"

"I don't know, I never had a long list," Melinda admitted. "But I remember there was one Christmas where I really wanted an Easy Bake Oven."

"Oh, yeah. My friend Monica is a chef, and she had like six of them when she was little," Joey replied. Once again, for the moment, he wanted nothing more than to be with her and the rest of his friends.

Melinda gave him a sympathetic smile. "Is she one of the friends you're going to see?"

"Yeah," Joey said with a deep, longing sigh. "I wonder what they're up to right now."

Meanwhile, Phoebe stood over one of the deep pots used as a makeshift fryer and turned another doughnut. After Monica rushed back into the living room, in a panic because the oven wasn't working, she was forced to come up with Dinner Menu B. A quick search of the cabinets and recipes on the Internet proved helpful, so Monica managed to come up with some savory fillings for doughnuts to have with the latkes. It wouldn't be a complete meal, but it was all they could do since no take-out place was open on Christmas Eve.

Fortunately, though the oven wasn't working, the stove still was. Monica had recruited her friends to help with frying while she cut out the doughnuts and stuffed them with filling. At one point they'd had an assembly line going.

But for the moment, Phoebe was all alone in the kitchen. The six hadn't yet finished putting together the dollhouse when Emma woke up. Thankfully, the toddler called for her mother before she came downstairs. Rachel tried to get her to go back to sleep, but Emma almost had a fit when Rachel had to tell her that Uncle Joey still wasn't there yet. To distract her both from her distress and the dollhouse construction, Chandler and Mike were outside in the backyard with her building a snowman since the snowfall had let up some. Ross and Rachel were working on the dollhouse like busy little elves, and kept an eye on the twins at the same time. Monica had just run in to check and comfort after Jack had called for his mother, but not before an obsessive warning to Phoebe about not letting any of the doughnuts burn.

"'Only keep them one side for exactly forty-five minutes,'" Phoebe muttered in a screechy mock of her friend's voice. Her voice back to normal, Phoebe said to herself, "Now, come on, it's not going to burn after one second more."

She checked her watch as it ticked one second past forty-five. "Hah! Nothing happened! Take that, Chef Monica!"

About to take the doughnut out, Phoebe was distracted when Mike came through the back door. She had to laugh. Mike was covered in snow from hat-covered head to boot-clad foot. He had a triumphant smirk on his bright red face, though. "Hey, it's Frosty the Snow Dork," Phoebe greeted, her tone affectionate despite her teasing. "Did you guys finish the snowman?"

Mike shook his head and sent snow flying on the large towel laid down on the floor next to the door. "Nope. But Emma and I whooped Chandler's butt in a snowball fight!"

"Oh, I love competitive Mike! I wish I could do all sorts of dirty things to you right now," Phoebe replied.

A grin on his face, Mike asked, "What's stopping you?" He went to step off the towel and kiss her.

"Wait!" Phoebe warned him as she nodded to the dripping snow on his clothes and Monica's clean floors. "Monica will kill you."

Mike shrugged and went to stand next to her anyway. "I'll risk it," he replied, then gave her a quick kiss.

"I like a man who would risk his life for me," Phoebe joked. She then turned back to the fryer…and gasped as she realized that she had probably left the three doughnuts in the pot for a good minute over the ninety seconds she was supposed to allow. "Uh oh."

"What's wrong?" Mike asked.

With a tentative swoop of the spider skimmer she was using to remove the doughnuts, she took one out. The dough sagged on the ladle metal. Phoebe had a feeling that if she pressed down on the doughnut, half a cup of oil would squirt out.

Mike prodded the doughnut and grimaced when a few drips of oil fell back into the pool. "Yum, good and oily, just how I like 'em," he deadpanned.

"Okay, yeah, this never happened," Phoebe told him. Mike brought over the garbage can, and she proceeded to throw out all three oil-filled doughnuts. She then grabbed three more from the ready-for-the-fryer doughnuts Monica had left on the counter and dipped them into the oil with the skimmer.

His arms around her waist, Mike rested his head on her shoulder. "Honey, I don't know if I'm okay with you spending so much time frying stuff over the stove…you know, in your condition."

"That's sweet," Phoebe replied as she gave him a brief kiss. "But I'm sure it's fine. It's not like a microwave or anything."

Mike sighed and stood upright. "I just don't like it. You know Monica would never make you help her if she knew."

"But she doesn't, so you can't blame her," Phoebe reminded him, then once she was done turning over the three doughnuts, gave him a longer kiss. She loved that he was so concerned for her. "I promise, I'll tell everyone at dinner tonight. I just want to wait until Joey is here."