Merry Christmas, Mr. Gambit
by J. Ferguson a.k.a. Timeless A-Peel
Beta-reading by rabidsamfan (with thanks)
Disclaimer: I don't own The New Avengers, nor the characters of Mike Gambit, Purdey, and John Steed. Sadly. They're the property of The Avengers (Film and TV) Enterprises, and this story is for entertainment purposes only.
Timeline: Fifth in a series. Takes place on December 24, 1976, so well after the end of the first season. It is strongly recommended, but not essential, that you go back and read the previous stories in the arc, Aftermath, Dance With Me, and The Anniversary (which has been revised and relaunched, so you may want to give that a look first).
Author's Note: This story is the oldest one I'll ever publish, written in December, 2005, the week before Christmas, and it hasn't really changed much since. It's fluff, quite obviously, but warm, fuzzy fluff, and I have a special place in my heart for this one. I think I got the atmosphere of the season right. I realise that it's September and hardly the most festive time of year, but this is next in the series, and it needed to be posted before going on to the next piece, which will be infinitely longer and hopefully will last me until I have more time to write/edit again. This one's very short, and thus won't last many chapters. There was no arc when I wrote it, so I've essentially built up the rest of the series around it. Perhaps my writing style has changed. Perhaps not. Either way, I hope you enjoy it.
For more information about the series, please see my profile.
It was 9:30 when the party moved to gift-opening. Steed, not surprisingly, received quite a few expensive bottles of liqueur, champagne, and brandy (in addition to Purdey and Gambit's), all of which he enthusiastically accepted.
Purdey received pearls from the senior agent, and Gambit found that Steed had reciprocated his gift with a rather rare Scotch he knew Mike was partial to. And from the lady spy, Gambit received a miniature crossbow, for his ever-expanding weapon collection. She had the courtesy to not wrap it loaded.
It was just as Purdey was about to open her present from Gambit that the man announced he had to leave.
"So soon?" Purdey lamented.
"If I'm going to catch that plane," Gambit told his colleagues, "I've got to go now."
"Then we mustn't delay you," Steed said congenially, as Gambit gathered up his presents.
"Thanks, Steed. And thank you, Purdey. See you when I get back."
Purdey waved and watched Steed show the younger man to the door. The pair exchanged a few words before Mike disappeared into the snow and cold from whence he came. Only then did Purdey turn back to her present.
It was wrapped in gold paper with a matching ribbon. Gambit obviously hadn't wrapped it. It appeared to have more of a woman's touch, Purdey noticed with a little irritation. She had heard Gambit mention someone named Sara to Steed when the latter had opened Mike's gift. She'd have to ask Steed about that.
Untying the ribbon, Purdey pulled away the paper and found a light pink rectangular box within. Lifting the lid, she discovered pure, white tissue paper which, when pushed aside, revealed her gift. Purdey put a hand to her mouth. She couldn't believe it.
A month back, Purdey and Gambit had been watching the house of an agent suspected of leaking Ministry secrets. Situated across the street from his flat was a shop, in front of which Purdey and Gambit made their watch point. On display in the shop window was, among other things, a very beautifully embroidered purple silk scarf. It had immediately caught her attention as it reminded her of a similar scarf that her father had brought her from his travels years ago. It had been lost one day while out boating, and Purdey had always regretted being so careless with such a treasured gift—especially after her father died. She had explained all this to Gambit—after all, they had to talk about something in the car, and after five hours even she was starting to run out of topics. She could have sworn he was tuning her out as he shifted his long legs. After the assignment had been concluded, she had found her way back to the shop, but the scarf had been gone. She'd felt a pang because of it. But here was the same scarf, draped in the box, stirring memories of her youth.
Purdey shot out of her seat, past a surprised Steed, and headed for the door. She hoped he hadn't left yet.
Outside, Gambit had just finished putting the gifts in the back seat of his car when Steed's front door flew open, bathing him in yellow light, and causing the slowly descending snowflakes to sparkle. In the sudden illumination he was blinded, but as his eyes adjusted, he could make out the dancer's form that could only be Purdey, framed in the light from the doorway as she hurried toward him, dodging between the dozens of vehicles of the party guests. "Mike," she called. He left his car and met her halfway.
When she reached him, out of breath, he noticed she was clutching the box. Whatever could she want?
"I'm glad I caught you," she said when she reached him. "I couldn't have possibly let you go without thanking you for this." She held up the box as explanation.
Gambit raised an eyebrow. He wasn't expecting this. Or were you, a voice said in the back of his mind, were you hoping?
"I'm glad you like it," he said by way of an answer, noticing how her blue eyes sparkled in the moonlight.
"Like it?" she exclaimed. "It's the most wonderful thing I've gotten in ages. I can't believe you remembered. I thought for sure you'd—"
"—forgotten?" He shook his head. "I wouldn't forget something like that. Leg cramps make for vivid memories."
She smiled. "I only wish I'd gotten you something that meant as much."
"You did," Gambit assured. "I've been looking for one of those crossbows for ages." It was true. But deep down, there was something he wanted more—much more—standing right in front of him.
"Well, you are very hard to buy for. I mean, you nixed the dog, but you've never told me what you really wanted." Or had he? An idea started to form in Purdey's mind, accompanied by a secretive little smile.
Gambit noticed she was starting to shiver slightly, her party dress not providing much protection from the cold. "You'd better get back inside before you catch your death," he murmured. "Besides, Steed'll be wanting you to make the rounds with the champagne again, and if I don't move, I'm going to miss my plane to New York."
She gave a slight nod, seemingly in agreement, but something about how it was executed made him suspect something else was behind it. It was almost as though she were committing herself to some unknown agreement. Who knew with Purdey?
"Yes, well, thank you again," she said softly, eyes dancing.
"You're very welcome," he replied, than paused. A slight smile danced across his face. "Merry Christmas, Purdey," he added warmly.
She moved suddenly, so fast, he had no time to react. She stepped forward, closing the gap between them, and then, with one hand on his shoulder, placed a light kiss on his lips—brief, soft. She stepped away just as quickly, and with that secretive little smile, began striding back toward the house. Her voice drifted back to him, warm in the frosty air.
"Merry Christmas, Mike."
Once inside, Purdey let out the breath she had been holding. There were only two men in her life: friends, colleagues, and, in some cases, so much more. As far as she was concerned, he—er, they, she corrected quickly—were all she really needed. She went back to the party with a light heart.
Outside, Gambit still stood where she had left him, the snow swirling about. His lips still tingled where her mouth had met his. He smiled. She'd known what he'd wanted all along. He headed back to his car and climbed in, switching on the radio. As soft Christmas music drifted off into the night, he cast one final glance back at the house. So this is what Christmas is all about, he mused. Maybe there was something worth staying for next year after all.
With a considerably lighter heart, he started his car and disappeared into the night.
End
Author's Notes: Written two years ago the week before Christmas. I know it's fluff, but it was fun to write, and to see how many Christmas puns I could stick in. Steed's come out sounding more like he was in the Emma era, but it works.
I have no idea if it snowed in '76, or how much snow England gets as a rule. But for my purposes it snows in Avengerland.
Obscure in-joke: General Peterson is named after a character from I Dream of Jeannie. And Gambit's dad's first name is, of course, Gareth Hunt's birth name: he was originally Alan Leonard Hunt.
This one accounts for a few things—Gambit's New York trip, and Steed's habit of using Purdey as the drink server. If his birthday parties are high-spirited, I can only imagine what Christmas must be like. Who knows what goes on after Gambit leaves. Of course, he's the one with the handcuffs, so maybe it was mellower that year…
As for Gambit's "gift," I originally toyed with the idea of mistletoe, but that seemed too obvious. Since Purdey did the decorating, she probably hid it all under the bed or something.