Happy holidays, everyone!

"Momma?"

Jess slowly opened her eyes to see the blurred face of her son pressed against the edge of her pillow, his nose practically touching hers.

"Are you awake, Momma?"

Jess blinked several times, attempting to get his brown, expectant eyes into focus. "Um, sure, Walt. What's wrong, honey?"

A huge smile spread across his dimpled cheeks. "Yea! Sophie, they are awake!" Walt yelled and jumped onto the bed. Jess rolled to avoid the flying missile that was her son and crashed into her husband.

"Ooooof," groaned Nick, as Sophie followed suit and launched herself onto him.

"Daddy, daddy, it's Christmas!" Sophie squealed.

Nick rubbed his face and turned to Jess. "Please tell me it is after 6 a.m.," he grumbled.

Jess glanced at the clock. "No can doosie, mister," she said with a sympathetic smile. "Come on, Miller. It's showtime."

Nick and Jess stumbled into the living room, pulled by the impatient hands of Sophie and Walt. Stopping in front of the tree, Walt shoved his arms at the presents. "See, we didn't touch anything! We waited for you!"

Nick slid onto the couch. "That's great, little man," he said as Jess eased next to him and rested her head on his shoulder.

Jess stifled a yawn. "Sophie, you want to get out a present for you and your brother?"

Sophie clapped her hands and found a present for each of them. The crackle of torn wrapping paper filled the small room, and Sophie gasped. "Yarn! A rainbow of yarn!" she yelled, showing her parents the small bucket of colorful, fluffy bundles.

Nick laughed softly. "She is SO your daughter," he murmured to Jess.

Walt jumped up. "It's a dragon! Just like the one in the show! Rrrrrarrr!" he cried, shoving the winged, plastic figure up into the air. The toy smacked against the tree and an ornament toppled to the floor.

"Be careful, Walt," Jess warned quietly. Blinking rapidly, Walt scooped up the ornament and brought it to her. "Sorry, momma," he said, and handed her the small frame. "Hey," he said. "That's you with Santa!"

As Walt bounced back to the tree and his next present, Jess looked down at the ornament. Staring back at her was a photo of her and Nick, dressed up as Mr. and Mrs. Claus with parts of a torn Santa's house behind them. "Yes, this is a special one," she said.

It had been a fantastic idea, Jess thought. When they were still living in the loft, she had volunteered to help with the community center's holiday party, and happily offered to take on the Santa's house. In the kitchen, Jess hummed as she baked gingerbread people (she refused to isolate herself to one gender for her gingerbread), while in front of the couch, Nick and Coach put together a little house for Santa covered in paper and a display of nine reindeer.

"I'm telling you, man, I think Rudolph should be sticking his head out of the window," Coach said as Jess' bunny phone warbled on the counter.

Nick sighed. "How many time do I gotta tell ya? Rudolph will be IN the reindeer display. He can't be in two places at once, Coach." He glanced over at Jess, who was frowning. "What's wrong, Jess?"

"That was Dr. Foster," she said quietly.

"The principal with the hot tub?" Nick asked, and tried to brush off the shivers he got whenever he thought of the evening they spent trapped with the little guy in his backyard Jacuzzi.

Jess nodded. "He's sick, and can't be Santa for the community center tomorrow," she said. "I'd do it myself, but I am manning the gingerbread station to help the kids decorate their own gingerbread person as they wait in line for Santa."

Nick set down his hammer. "That's too bad, sweetie. What are you going to do?"

Jess looked up at Nick, and a slow smile spread across her face. Nick shook his head. "No, no. No, Jess. You are talking sticky kids and crying kids. You are talking about TALKING to kids. I don't talk to kids, Jess. As a rule. I consider myself a bad example, and I choose not to unduly influence the next generation."

"A wise choice, Nicholas, though you do already have the padding in place to pull it off," said Schmidt as he and Winston carried bags full of small presents in from Jess' room. "There," he said, dumping the bags on the couch. "Your artifices of delusion are now completely wrapped. You can con a new set of little children into believing a fat man in a ghastly suit brings them toys to celebrate this blessed gentile holiday."

Winston rolled his eyes. "Get off your high horse, Schmidt. You buy more presents than all of us combined."

Schmidt raised an eyebrow. "I, my friend, do my fair share to help the economy in troubled times. It is not my fault it is connected to a sugar-filled holy day."

Coach put down his hammer. "All incoherent, Schmidtdom rambling aside, I think Bishop would make a good Santa."

Winston looked at him. "Me? Why would I make a good Santa?"

Coach scratched his chin. "Because you need a win, my good man." He pulled himself up and walked over to Winston. "You have spent the last few months doing weird things with puzzles and being obsessed with a cat."

Winston stared up at Coach. "So what? You asked out Cece, who you know just broke up with Schmidt!"

Coach laughed. "Yeah, it's like we aren't even acting like ourselves these days. Am I right?" He slapped Winston on the back. "But really, you gotta have a win. And I can get you that win. You are going to be the best Santa this planet has ever known!"

Winston's eyes grew round. "Oh no, I know that look. Back it down, Coach. Back it down."

Coach squeezed Winston's arm. "You think you are going to be able to pick up kids with arms like THAT? You gotta work it, man! Work it!"

Winston slowly began to back away. "Get that crazy look out of your eye, Coach. I mean it," he turned around and raced to his room with Coach right behind.

Schmidt turned to Nick. "I, for one, would not vote for anyone taking on this ridiculous task. It is demeaning to all men to be reduced to a figment of…"

"Cece will be there, and dressed as an elf," Jess said.

"…And I will be happy to help the children of the world fulfill their sugarplum dreams," said Schmidt. He spun and walked toward his room. Turning in the doorway, he added, "I still have my Sexy Santa hat, if you need it." He closed the door.

Nick's turtle face made an appearance. "Ew, we need to get him a portable jar we can just hang around his neck."

Jess laughed softly and walked over to Nick. "You'll always be my sexy Santa." She curled her frosting-covered hands around his shoulders. "You sure you don't want to be Santa this year? You could be Mr. Claus and I could be your Mrs. Claus."

Nick's eyes grew large. "Mr. and Mrs. Claus? You mean like we would be mar . . . mar . . . you know . . . together and mar . . .."

Jess smiled. "Nick, do you mean you cannot even SAY the word married when you are near me?" She giggled. "It's just Santa, Nick."

"It's never JUST with you, Jess!" Nick yelped and jumped back.

Jess blinked hard and looked at him. "Nick, it's okay. I really just…"

Nick shoved his hand through his hair. "No, it's not okay. It's never just one thing. It always means something more. It will always be something more. It means . . . it's just . . . it's not . . . ." He sighed. "I can't play Mr. Claus with you, okay?"

Jess stepped back from him, confusion clouding her blue eyes. "Okay." She turned and walked back to the kitchen, hearing Nick pick up the hammer and pound mercilessly on the stand for the reindeer.

Neither one of them spoke of Nick's outburst the rest of the day. The following morning, Jess stuffed the last of the cotton onto the roof of the little Santa house. Schmidt was lacing the candy-cane stands with red rope to help guide the kids into line.

"You okay there, Jess?" Cece asked, as she pulled off her coat. Jess turned and her eyes bulged. "I know, I know." Cece sighed, brushing her hands down the sides of the impossibly small and tight elf costume. "I forgot this was for an ad for a local brewery. I thought it came with a lot more material."

The clatter of candy-cane stands rattled behind them as Cece and Jess looked over to see Schmidt staring google-eyed at Cece, with the red rope wrapped around his feet.

Cece sighed. "I think I am a glutton for punishment to keep showing up where he is," she said, but a smile graced her soft features as she watched him try to struggle to free himself from the rope, only to fall over face first.

"Me too," whispered Jess.

Turning to her friend, Cece frowned. "What is it, babe?"

Jess shrugged. "It's just . . .," she sighed. "I guess I have to stop using that word." She stuffed a bit more cotton onto the roof and tried for a smile. "It's no big deal. Nick thinks I'm pressuring him, when I'm not. We'll figure it out."

Lifting an eyebrow, Cece looked at her. "I think Nick knows how great he has it, Jess. He's nuts about you."

Jess gave a quick smile. "Maybe, but sometimes I think I just make him nuts."

Another crash of the stands made Jess and Cece glance at Schmidt, who was unsuccessfully trying to wiggle out of rope that how encased all of his legs. Cece sighed. "Guys are idiots. I better help him before the kids get here."

Jess walked to the gingerbread table, and straightened the dishes filled with candy coatings. Winston, all donned in a Santa suit, strode up to the table, a hand firmly holding up his pants. Coach, outfitted in a large, green elf costume complete with pointy ears, walked behind him. As he walked, he pumped a clenched fist and chanting encouragements.

"You GOT this, Bishop. You ARE the jolly, fat man. You ARE Santa," Coach said.

Winston stopped at the table. "Yea, well right now I am the Santa about to moon a group of small children." He looked at Jess. "Do you have an extra belt? The one they gave me is too big, and I do not want my holiday briefs to be the one thing kids remember about their trip to see Santa."

Jess smiled. "I'll see if we have something in the Santa house. I think I saw an extra belt there." Jess walked past the first of the children lining up with Cece and Schmidt, who was now untangled.

"No, I am not tall for an elf," said Schmidt, looking at the bug-eyed little boy. Under his breath he added, "I don't celebrate Christmas."

The small child stared at him. "My neighbor is Jewish and he celebrates Chewbacca. Do you celebrate Chewbacca?"

Schmidt's nostrils flared. "It's Chanukah, my dear, little child. The Festival of Lights. It is a great celebration."

Cece snorted. "Yeah, right. You want a festival of lights? Try Diwali, the Hindi festival of lights. Now that's a holiday."

Schmidt angled another child into the line. "I'm sorry, did you say something? I couldn't quite hear you over the cleavage spilling out of that outfit."

Jumping in between them, Jess declared, "Okay, Mr. and Ms. Elf, let's get the kids together to see Santa!" Cece's eyes narrowed dangerously at Schmidt, but she gently guided a child to the front of the line.

Jess hurried to the Santa house to find a belt for Winston. As she entered through the small, cardboard door, she stopped. There stood Nick in a Santa suit that had seen better days. He was stuffing leftover cotton into the front of his costume.

"Nick?" Jess said. His head popped up and he threw his hands up.

"Tah dah!" He smiled, but Jess just continued to stare at him. Slowly, Nick lowered his arms. "Okay, it's the only suit they had left at the rental place. I think it was in a fire last year because it smells a little like a barbeque."

Jess bit her lip. "Go home, Nick. Winston can do this." She grabbed a belt from the floor and turned to go.

Nick reached over and grabbed her arm. "Look, I'm sorry, Jess. I got a little freaked out."

Pulling her arm away gently, Jess sighed. "I know, Nick. You always get a little freaked out. And you climb on a ledge of the apartment, or moonwalk away, or throw my purses out on the street." He cringed and dropped his arm away.

She sighed. "Seriously, I get it. I'm not trying to push you, but you see everything I do as pushing. You see an attack in every question, Nick, and I cannot keep up." Jess took a shaky breath, realizing how close she was to letting the brimming tears escape. "I've run out of ways to try and convince you that I'm happy with you, JUST you. I don't know what to say to make it all right."

Nick simply stared at her. Jess bit her lip, willing the tears to stay hidden for just a moment more, and she pushed open the door. "I know what to say," he whispered, but his words were lost in the chaos outside Santa's house.

Cece and Schmidt were standing on opposite sides of the children's line, shouting at one another. The little heads of the kids in line whipped back and forth as though they were watching a high-stakes tennis match.

"And I'm telling you Shiva could kick the Maccabees' behinds up one side of the battlefield and down the other!" Cece yelled.

Schmidt threw his head back and barked a loud laugh. "Oh, you are FILLED with humor, Miss North Pole Pinup! They drove back the Greeks. The GREEKS!"

Over by the reindeer, Winston's feet dangled off the ground as Coach hoisted his pants together with an extra jump rope he brought in his emergency exercise kit. "You are one with the reindeer, Bishop. You ARE the stockings," Coach chanted.

"All right, all right, I am the stockings, just do not let my pants fall again!" Winston yelped.

As Jess took two steps from the Santa house, a ripping sound tore through the room. She whipped around to see Nick jamming his head through the paper window. "Jess, I know what to say!"

"Nick, you don't have to say anything," she pleaded, and watched in horror as he tried to push himself through the window. "Just go home." Jess turned and smiled weakly at the perplexed children.

"Jessica, I love you!" Nick shouted.

All voices stilled and all eyes moved to the shabby Santa rolling through the tattered hole in the paper Santa house. Jess remained stock still, unable to turn around.

Nick stumbled to her. "Jess, I love you. That's what I've been trying to tell you. I don't get freaked out because of what I think you want, but because of what I KNOW I want. When I get close to people . . . that's when I lose them. I can't lose you, Jess. I just can't. I wouldn't survive it. I love you."

Jess stared at him, her blue eyes unblinking. "Nick, I . . . ."

Before she could speak, he leaned in and bushed his lips to hers. The crowd of children erupted in a series of "Whoooooooo!" A glorious, carefree and completely ungrumpy smile broke over Nick's features, and he kissed Jess gently on the tip of her nose. "Come on, Mrs. Claus. Let's go spread some of this joy." He winked at her and headed to help Winston into the great Santa chair.

Now, years later, sitting on their couch watching their children open presents, Jessica looked down at the photo of the two of them from that day. Both with huge grins on their faces and gingerbread frosting on their clothes. They shone with a look that Jess now understood meant the beginning of their lives together.

Silently, Nick slipped his hand into hers and gave a slight squeeze. "Now that is one adorable Mrs. Claus," he said, looking at the old photo.

Jess leaned over and kissed his cheek. "Not so bad yourself, Mr. Claus."