Title: Mince Pies and Cognac

Author: Pinkcat4569

Rated G

Spoilers: No

Description: The ARC prepares for Santa's visit.

Disclaimer: I don't own Primeval or the characters. Or Santa/Father Christmas

761 Words, pre-relationship

Mince Pies and Cognac

"What shall we leave for Santa?"

Lester stared. "Yes, difficult question. Thankfully, the ARC is equipped to handle sensitive and life-threatening questions such as that. Oh, and here's another question, Miss Parker, have you completely lost your mind?"

"What?"

"One, this is a place of business, there are no children for Mr. Claus to visit. Two, he doesn't bloody exist!"

There were gasps across Ops.

"Wow, Lester. I've been accused of being stoic and unfeeling, but even I wouldn't blurt that out," said Becker.

"You're doomed, boss," said Connor.

"It was not a very Christmas thing to say," said Emily.

"You're all bloody bonkers," said Lester.

Becker smiled. "What do you usually leave out?" he asked Jess.

"Mince pies."

"Usually?" asked Lester. "Am I really the only adult here?"

"The only old fogie, yes," said Jess.

"Mince pies are good, Jess," said Connor. "Don't forget carrots for the reindeer."

"Maybe you should leave something less fattening," said Abby. "He has a lot of chimneys to fit into."

"My dad always left him a shot of whiskey," said Becker.

"You're kidding," said Jess. "That was very irresponsible. Santa's driving."

"Yes, Miss Parker. You don't want the old elf to drunkenly plow into any birds, chimneys or UFOs. He might also run into Mary bloody Poppins floating around with her umbrella."

Everyone chuckled and smirked.

"Try to get in spirit, Lester," replied Jess. "It won't kill you."

"Yes, Miss Parker it will. Death by Nonsense is an insidious killer of proper and well-bred gentleman, you know."

"No, I didn't. Thank you, Lester."

"Not at all," he said.

"Do you have any mince pies?" asked Becker.

"Chef Bernie said he'd save me one, and a bunch of carrots. I didn't ask about whiskey, though."

"Cognac," said Lester.

Everyone looked at him. "I have some in my office. Just a moment."

They all stared in baffled silence as Lester brought back a small cup of Cognac. "Here Miss Parker. The jolly old elf should appreciate that. It's good Cognac."

Everyone continued staring.

"What?" asked Lester. "If you're insist on leaving something for an imaginary figure, might as well make it something with a pedigree."

"Thank you," said Jess. "I'll leave milk too, any case he doesn't wish to indulge."

"Very nice," said Lester. "Well, if that concludes ARC business for tonight, I will take my leave. Merry Christmas."

"Merry Christmas," said the room.

"I guess we'll be off too," said Matt.

"Do not forget to come by tomorrow afternoon," said Emily.

"Thank you for inviting us all to dinner," said Abby.

"Wait til you taste it before you thank us," said Matt. Emily elbowed him.

"Jess, are you sure you'll be alright tonight?" asked Abby.

"Yeah, we don't have to got to my mate's party," said Connor. "We don't want you alone on Christmas Eve."

"I'm fine," said Jess. "I'm going to talk to my parents over Skype, and then have a nice cup of cocoa and read a Christmas Carol."

"Are you sure?" asked Abby.

Jess hugged her. "Yes."

Abby nodded, and everyone left but Becker and Jess.

"Aren't you leaving?" asked Jess.

"Yeah, the other shifts are here and everything's secure. I just need one more thing."

"What?"

Becker smiled. "I don't want you alone tonight. You have a choice, come to my place and spend Christmas Eve, or I'll come to yours."

Jess flushed. "That's very bold."

Becker chuckled. "Take it either way, bold or innocent. Will you spend Christmas Eve with me?"

She smiled. "Yes, but come to my flat. I'm sure I have more chocolate at home than you."

He laughed. "So am I."

"OK then, and thank you," said Jess.

"No thanks needed. I'm really being selfish. I just want to be with you."

Jess looked into his eyes, and slowly they moved closer, and kissed. When they finally released each other, Jess snuggled into his chest.

"Oh, this is going to be better than reading Dickens," she said.

"God bless us all, everyone," he said, and she giggled.

They walked out of Ops, passing the small table that held the items for Father Chistmas: a mince pie, carrots, a glass of milk, and a small cup of Cognac.

When the acting field coordinator relinquished the ADD the next morning, he saw the table was empty. No one had been in Ops for hours but him, and he didn't eat the treats.

And yet, they were gone. How? Surely, not by Santa and his reindeer.

Given the nature of the ARC, however, anything is possible.

The End.