A/N: I wrote a Christmas fic based on something someone had posted on tumblr, so I can't take full credit for the idea...

Set around IWTB, could be before or after I suppose.

The X-Files doesn't belong to me.

Christmas Eve for Mulder and Scully is quiet and snowy, with a tinge of loneliness. Despite living like this for more than five years, the holidays are always just a bit sad. Scully takes a moment to look around at the Christmas decorations she's bought, and the Christmas tree that's barely taller than her. There are a few presents under it, from him to her and her to him, and a few from her co-workers. Still, it feels bare and lonely.

She sighs and walks to the bedroom where Mulder is curled up, wrapped up in all the covers. The TV isn't on like it usually is; maybe he's going to sleep tonight, Scully hopes. "Hey," she pokes him. "Gimme some covers."

Mulder lets her in and wraps her up in his arms. It's cold, and he'll use any excuse to cuddle up to her. "You okay?" she asks. "You're quiet," they usually talk until they fall asleep.

"Yeah. A lot on my mind." Mulder says. All day, he's been thinking of something that's left a lump in his throat and a weight on his chest. He doesn't feel like talking about it, because he know he'll cry, he knows he'll ruin Scully's Christmas and he just wants her to be happy. He doesn't want her to think of it, too.

"Tell me." She turns to face him and caresses his face lovingly.

"It's nothing. Just thinking over...everything. I'm fine," he promises, kissing her forehead.

"Just sleep," she gently instructs, "It'll get your mind off things."

"I'm trying," he sighs. They share a sweet, soft kiss and try to fall asleep.

But the thoughts still flood Mulder's mind, of the boy playing baseball and getting excited when it snows, of his first day of school and the tears in the mother's eyes. Who are his friends? Does he have a crush on any girls? Does he ever look up at the sky and wonder if there is something there, like Mulder himself did at his age?

What does he want for Christmas this year? Is he still up, waiting for Santa?

Do his parents ever tell him about his mom, a beautiful red-haired lady who loved him so much she knew he could not be hers?

Him. Their son. William.

Tears begin to fall silently, and Mulder tries desperately not to wake Scully, who has turned her back to him, but their feet are still intertwined under the covers. She's not sleeping, though, and she always been able to tell when something's wrong. "You're crying," she says, looking over her shoulder, circles under her eyes.

He only shakes his head. He's not going to ruin her Christmas.

It's quiet for awhile, neither of them knowing what to say. "Please do tell me. You're worrying me." she says.

"Christmas is just...hard for me."

"Me, too. I miss my family." She misses more than that; truly, she misses her son, but she can't tell him that. She's trying to make this Christmas the best it can be.

He can see through her excuse. "I'm thinking of him, too. William."

Her eyes instantly fill. "Oh, Mulder," she breathes. "I miss him, too." She turns to him again and buries her head on his chest. "I think about him all the time."

"I know. I wish he was here with us." they both know that the reason why Christmases are so hard is because there isn't a bouncing boy to wake them up Christmas morning. They'll never see their child grow into a perpetually-annoyed teenager or go off to college.

But, he is happy, wherever he is. He runs through fields and finds bugs and delights his parents with toothy grins, Mulder's sure of it. It's a small comfort, and it takes only a minuscule amount of longing away, but it's a comfort; he can't complain. "He's having a good Christmas," Scully says softly. "I guess that should be enough."

"It's enough." he replies. And it is. Though they will never hear the little feet running to find presents for Santa, they know that his parents now are. And the parents are happy. And their sweet little boy is happy.

"Are we happy?" Mulder asks suddenly.

"Are you?" she asks, thinking on the question.

"I'm as happy as I know how to be."

"Me, too."

He places a comforting kiss on her forehead and says, "One day, maybe, if there is a God and he smiles down on us, we'll see him again. But until then, and it may not ever happen, we just have to know that he's happy and he's growing up and he's loved."

"And he's having a merry Christmas." Scully replies.

"Yes, he is. And we are, too."

"Mmm-hmm."

"Love you," he declares as he wipes a few tears that have fallen from Scully's eyes away.

"Love you," she says, doing the same for him. "Goodnight."

"Goodnight. Merry Christmas, Scully."

They fall asleep tangled up in each other.

Mulder is the one to wake her on Christmas. "Scully," he whispers. When she doesn't open her eyes, he peppers her jawline and neck with kisses. "Scullyyyyy," he sings.

"What do you want?" she groggily replies.

"Merry Christmas." she can hear the childlike grin in his voice. "Let's go open presents."

She laughs and reluctantly pulls herself out of bed, and when she's greeted by cold air, instead of grabbing her blanket, she just pulls him closer to her. They walk downstairs together and make some coffee and waffles and eggs. When they finally get done eating, they gather around the tree and open the presents carefully, wanting to savor every moment.

When it's all said and done, the wrapping paper covering the floor, Scully pulls on her new cashmere sweater (a gift from Mulder, who had to have spent good money on it), and flicks the TV on to some ABC Christmas special. "Thank you," she tells Mulder when he sits down on the couch with another cup of hot coffee.

"Did you have a merry Christmas?"

"Yes," she replies with a peck on the cheek. "It's the first Christmas in a really long time that's felt like Christmas. What about you?"

"Yeah. It's definitely Christmas." they curl up for a midday Christmas nap.

The same day, a little boy rips open his final Christmas present to find a model UFO. He bounces up and down with joy. "Mommy! Look what Santa got me! A model UFO!" His mother can only laugh and shake her head. Her son is already running around with it, overjoyed.

"What started this strange fascination with UFOs?" the woman's husband murmurs to her.

"Beats me," she chuckles. "But he's happy. Isn't that enough?"

"It's enough."

Later that day, the sweet boy called William looks out the window at the Christmas snow and asks his father, "Dad, are aliens really out there?"

A/N: Hope you enjoyed and hope your holidays are going well so far :)

-Lulamae