A/N: This is supposed to be the Christmas episode that there never was in Friends. To some of you it may seem a little early for a Christmas special. But, the idea was really bugging me to be written and this is going to be my first multi-chaptered fic, so I'll need time (which I won't have so much of in the lead up to Christmas). This is just the opening- set around season 8. Not sure when the next chapter will be up, but this will involve all of your favourite characters.

Disclaimer: Nope, not mine.

Are you hanging up your stocking on the wall?- Slade, Merry X'mas Everybody

Ross flicked on the light, bathing his living room in a yellow, artificial glow. He blinked a few times getting used to the sudden light that now surrounded him. He glanced at his clock, which read twelve minutes past one. In the morning. Whoever was at the door banged their fists on it once again, causing Ross to scowl. If it's those damn kids… he thought, I'll show them some of my finest kara-tay…

He crossed the short distance to the door and opened it reluctantly, to reveal Phoebe, stood in the hallway in her polka dot pyjamas. She beamed at him.

'Merry Christmas, Ross!' she greeted brightly. Her voice seemed loud in the silence of the building. Ross pulled her inside and closed the door.

'Phoebe, what are you doing here?' he asked tiredly.

'It's nice to see you too,' she said, sounding slightly offended.

'Yes, yes, it's great to see you here at this time in the morning. I couldn't have wished for anything nicer.'

'Aw. Thanks, Ross.'

Ross rolled his eyes as she completely failed to catch the sarcasm that practically coated his last sentence. 'You're welcome, Pheebs. Again, why are you here?'

'Well, it's Christmas,' she started.

'It is now,' Ross yawned, cutting across her. He nodded his head in the direction of the clock which now read thirteen minutes past. 'But, that still doesn't explain why you're here.'

'Well, if you would just let me finish,' she said, a little huffily. 'So, I was getting ready for bed and I was hanging up my stocking, when something suddenly occurred to me.'

'What?'

'Santa hasn't delivered me any presents since I was thirteen.'

'Right. Do you know why that is?' Ross said, a little sarcastically.

'Of course I do, what do you take me for- an idiot?'

'Far from it, Pheebs,' he muttered. 'I just thought that you still believed that Santa was real.'

'I do. He is real; he's just had his reasons for not leaving me presents for the past eighteen years.'

'So, you came over to tell me this at quarter past one in the morning? You woke me up- from a good dream in which I discovered the world's biggest dinosaur fossil- to tell me that Santa has been neglecting you?'

'Yes!'

'That's because he's not real, Phoebe!'

'Of course he is, you stupid jackass.'

'He isn't,' Ross insisted. 'How else do you explain why he hasn't brought your presents since your mom was still alive- and there to buy presents and pretend that Santa had visited?'

'If you would just listen, I could finish explaining what I suddenly realised!'

'That it was actually your mom who bought the presents and labelled them from Santa?'

'Why would she do that? She's not crazy, she believed in him too.'

'I'm not surprised.'

'Are you going to let me finish telling you my theory any time soon?'

'Fine, fine. Continue…'

'Okay. This is the real reason why Santa hasn't swung by my place in years. It's because I'm always at home when he comes and he can hardly leave presents while I'm there. I'm a very light sleeper.'

'Are you sure you haven't just been a naughty girl for all those years?'

Phoebe raised her eyebrows at him, her eyes wide. 'In what sense of the word?'

Ross sighed and rubbed his eyes. 'As in the I've-done-lots-of-bad-things-and-will-get-a-lump-of-coal-for-Christmas sense of the word.'

'Oh, good. If it was in the kinky sense that would explain it for sure…' she said, appearing to relax a little. 'And, I've been a good girl all year. I've done my bit for the world, haven't eaten any meat, helped Crazy Pete with his annual knife sharpening… what could possibly be bad about my year?'

'You tell me,' Ross said, meaning it rhetorically, but Phoebe launched straight back into her theory.

'I shall. So, to sum up, he can't leave presents because I might see him and he can't get caught or the elves will attempt to overthrow him for failing his duties.'

'Right. So, you think that if you're here, he can stop by and leave you a present.'

'Now you're catching on!'

'Then, how does he visit everybody else and not wake anybody up? I mean, parents would surely notice if a fat guy in a red suit started creeping around their house in the middle of the night.'

'Yes, but they know he's coming.'

'So do you,' Ross pointed out.

'But, I'm not a parent. I'm not supposed to be in on the secret,' Phoebe said exasperatedly, as if she was explaining the obvious to someone who found it painfully difficult to understand. 'Santa drops off the presents somewhere convenient and then the parents check they're right, wrap them and stick them under the tree.'

Ross was beginning to get fed up.

'He's not real, Phoebe!'

'He is; you've just got to believe!'

'There's nothing to believe in!'

'I have proof that Santa exists.'

'Okay. Tell me, Pheebs- how can you prove the existence of a fictional holiday character?'

'I saw him last year at Monica and Chandler's.'

'That was Chandler in a Santa outfit!' Ross said, his voice starting to get louder.

'I know that, he wasn't really fat enough to be Santa anyway… I meant I saw him through their window. In the sky on Christmas Eve, I saw blinking red and yellow lights. That can only be one thing- Santa's sleigh.'

'Sounds like a plane to me,' Ross mumbled under his breath. 'That's not proper proof… How do you explain this then; one guy flying around the world on one night. It's impossible, Phoebe!'

'Santa can use magic, dumbass.'

'Don't even get me started on how ridiculous the notion of magic is,' Ross countered.

'Ugh, you're so stubborn and- and scientific!'

'I am a scientist, Pheebs.'

'Too right you are. Anyway, I'm staying here whether you like it or not. According to my calculations, Santa should hit New York at about four. And when I go home tomorrow morning to find a present from him under my tree, there will be your proof that Santa and his elves and his workshop in the North Pole really do exist, you Evil Scientist Man.'

'Then I look forward to seeing it… Only, non-existent things can be hard to see sometimes,' he said dryly. Phoebe glared at him.

'Only through the eyes of a sceptic,' she retorted and stomped off into his spare bedroom. She slammed the door. Ross ran a hand through his big bed hair and returned to his own bedroom.

He lay down on his bed and tried to get back to sleep, but one thing was bothering him. The woman next door to him really believed in this jolly Christmas character and she would take it really hard when she returned home the next morning to discover things exactly as she had left them. He wasn't sure what would hurt her most- the fact that she was wrong, or the fact that something she had so strongly believed in since childhood didn't actually exist. He sighed and sat up, swinging his legs over the edge of his bed where his feet made contact with the cream carpet.

Fighting against his will to prove that he was right and what he felt was his duty as a good friend, he picked up the phone and began to dial.

A/N: Hope you enjoyed the opening of this Christmas fic. I hope to complete it before Christmas. I'd also like to dedicate it to all of those who feel the Christmas Spirit all year round 