Kurt Weller was not a man that generally celebrated Christmas with much enthusiasm or fanfare. Not since he was 10 and Taylor disappeared. Not when Christmas had been her favorite holiday. He could remember her off-key singing as she belted carols wherever they went. He could remember he excited bouncing as she showed off a new toy. Christmas was best left unthought-of.

He didn't really put up a tree or take vacation days around the 25th. Luckily, once he started at the FBI, Christmas breaks were few and far between.

When Sawyer had been born, he'd put a little more effort into his holiday spirit. A tree went up. He took as many Christmas Eves and Christmas Days off as he could. He gamely played Santa, eating sugar cookies at 2 in the morning (okay, that one wasn't such a sacrifice). He put together toys and bicycles as quietly as he could.

As much as Kurt could put on a game face, his heart was never really in it.

But then Taylor came back.

And when her first post-memory wipe Christmas came around, just a few short months after they started dating, Kurt felt like the Grinch - his heart growing three sizes when confronted with Christmas decorations and carols and even the pushy shoppers in Macy's couldn't bring down his mood.

This year, his apartment is full of Christmas cheer. The tree is bigger and covered in ornaments, a lot dug out of storage. There's even one that Jane herself made when she was a toddler and had given to Bill and Maura Weller one year.

"I made this?" Jane asks, gently brushing her fingers over the colorful paper reverently. She looks so awed, and strangely afraid, like if she touches it too much it'll disintegrate.

"Yeah," Kurt says easily, looking down from his position on the stepladder. The garland goes slightly loose in his hands. "You were like three? Four? Gave it to my mom and dad. You should've seen the look on your face when they gushed over it."

Jane grins now, an expression that warms Kurt to his soul.

"It looks like a blind man made it."

Kurt snorts a laugh, but doesn't contradict her.

Patterson's cookie swap is a great idea.

In theory.

In reality, it involves a strict mandate that store bought cookies are "a total insult to good taste," a visit to Sarah who has their mother's cookbook, a very long trip to the grocery store (after which Kurt is the one who carries all the bags back to the apartment. Thanks, Jane), and a warning to the couple that lives in the apartment underneath his.

("Sorry in advance for any yelling. I swear we're just attempting to bake. Yeah, if any of them come out okay we'll drop a plate off.")

"Are you sure about that?" Jane asks, leaning her elbows against the counter as she watches Kurt pour vanilla into the mix.

Kurt shoots her a side eye and pours the vanilla. "Hey! Who actually remembers what baking is here?"

"Wow!" Jane mocks outrage, "Low blow, Weller. Low blow."

She dips her fingers into the flour bag and flicks them at Kurt's face, laughing as the powder settles into his stubble. He blinks owlishly at her for a few moments before abandoning the vanilla and lunging for her waist.

"No! Kurt, no!" She shrieks, laughing as he rubs flour and butter into her skin.

"Never!" He laughs, simply enjoying the warmth of her body against his. She reaches out and snatches a handful of cream cheese, reaching behind her to smear it against the side of his face.

"Jane!" He all but whines as the cream cheese gets in his ear. Jane takes advantage of his discomfort to slip out of his grip.

"You started it!" She accuses, dancing on graceful feet around a broken egg on the floor.

Kurt scowls at her. "You started it, Jane!"

"Oops," she bites her lip against a giggle. "Make it up to you?"

(The first batch of cherry almond shortbread burns. The second is too almond-y. The third is perfect and Jane tells Patterson and Zapata that it's only because she took control over the baking.)

Kurt doesn't need an excuse to kiss Jane, but since it's the holidays, he hangs a sprig of mistletoe over the entryway to the kitchen.

It's silly and clichéd, but dammit they deserve silly and clichéd.

Still, he's a little embarrassed by it, so the festive green only goes up on Christmas Eve, when Kurt is sneaking around the living room, putting Jane's gifts under the tree.

He's up way too early the next morning. Giddy for the first time on Christmas morning in far too long, Kurt slips out of bed without waking Jane. She's a heavy sleeper; at least she has been since they started sharing a bed.

Kurt watches for a minute, the way Jane's breaths send short pieces of hair fluttering around her face, the way she wrinkles her nose and rubs at her eye without waking up. Once he's sure she definitely won't be waking up any minute, he pads quietly into the kitchen.

Jane bought a special Christmas blend coffee the other day and smacked his hand away when he had tried to use it.

He pulls the bag down from the cabinet now and pours a few generous scoops into the coffeemaker.

They're having lunch, dinner, and presents with Sarah, Sawyer, and the team later.

He pours another scoop into the machine.

Satisfied that the coffee is brewing, Kurt moves onto breakfast. He methodically cuts up fruit, knowing Jane will want something healthy to go with her pancakes.

As he's pre-mixing the batter, Kurt hears the unmistakable sound of Jane's feet hitting the floor. He grins to himself, and knowing there are only a few minutes before Jane comes into the kitchen, Kurt gets ready to stand under the mistletoe.

Casually of course, so Jane doesn't know how much fun he's having with this silly tradition.

He snatches up the nearest book (Harry Potter. Sawyer passed along his copies to Aunt Jane with a broad grin and an exuberant, "you HAVE to read them!") and holds it casually at chest height.

Jane slowly shuffles down the hallway, zombie-like without her coffee. She's clad only in a pair of underwear and one of his old college shirts. Bedhead and all, it's probably the best sight Kurt's ever seen.

"Morning," he greets her, anticipating a stop, maybe a confused look when she sees the mistletoe and a laugh when he explains its purpose. A kiss would be nice too.

All he gets is a brief glance and a "you're holding the book upside down," before Jane yawns and beelines for the coffee pot.

"What?" Kurt splutters, looking at the book, which sure enough is upside down.

Jane doesn't respond, she's too busy sipping at the steaming brew. Kurt drops the book to the floor, causing Jane to look up.

She smirks a little, arches an eyebrow, "I hope you didn't lose my page."

Kurt looks at her in dumbfounded silence for a brief minute before cracking up. His laughter is contagious, and before they know it, Kurt is leaning against the doorjamb, holding Jane to his chest as they laugh together.

She looks up and her nose crinkles. Kurt smiles to himself.

"Why do you have leaves hanging from the ceiling?"

A/N: Hi gang! Happy Memorial Day (or just plain old Monday, if you're not in the States), I wrote Christmas fic. This is dumb and silly and definitely 100% non-canon compliant. I wrote this a week (?) before the finale, so I was still working under the "Jane Doe is Taylor Shaw" assumption. Other than that, there's not much more to know about the fic. Hope you guys enjoy it! :)

Oh! The title came from this quote "Christmas waves a magic wand over this world, and behold, everything is softer and more beautiful" said by Norman Vincent Peale.