Standard Disclaimer: I own nothing and make no profit. "Peter Gunn" was created by Blake Edwards and produced by Spartan Productions.

A/N: This is a series of short Christmas-themed ficlets involving Peter Gunn and Edie Hart. All the action takes place during December 1960. There will be 31 entries, one for each day of the month.

Christmas Traditions: 1960

• Thursday, December 8

Music drifted softly from the hi-fi as Edie settled into a corner of the couch, a handful of yesterday's mail clutched in her hand. She hadn't seen Pete since late the prior afternoon when he'd received a telephone call urgently demanding his investigating skills. At least those were the words the man on the other end of the line had used. The PI had quickly showered, donned a gray suit that was one of Edie's favorites, kissed her soundly on the lips and disappeared into the drab murkiness of a slow, ceaseless drizzle.

"Never to be seen again," the woman muttered, smiling despite herself.

Doing things his way, mind obsessed with whatever job he was working, Pete would be Pete. If there was anything she needed to know he always called or dropped by the club at some point – which he hadn't done last night – and if something drastic happened she knew she'd hear from Lieutenant Jacoby, but even that bit of knowledge couldn't keep her from worrying just a little bit. Sometimes it was just a waiting game. So it was with a sense of familiarity with his absence that she made herself comfortable and began to sort through the letters and cards, some from the mailbox downstairs, others that she'd brought from work.

Halfway through a short note from her cousin Peggy, her gaze drifted to the box that had come into the apartment with Pete yesterday morning. It was still on the chair beneath the stairs, also waiting for the errant PI to find his way home. Edie chewed thoughtfully at her bottom lip and wondered not for the first time that morning what was inside, then picked up her cup from the end table for a sip of coffee and decided maybe it needed a tad more flavor. She placed Peggy's note back inside the Christmas card it had arrived in – a pretty one with a manger scene on the front and a sentimental message inside – and made her way to the kitchen for a spritz of cream. On her return trip she meandered by the small alcove, stopped and stared.

The box could certainly be described as large rather than big, Edie decided. And it must be heavy by the way Pete had carried it into the apartment yesterday. She set her cup on the coffee bar and turned back to the heavy-duty cardboard container and gave it an experimental nudge. It barely moved. The flaps were still securely interlocked but they weren't taped down, she rationalized, so Pete must not be worried that she might look. She gripped a flap and pulled, looked inside and rolled her eyes. Another box – this one tightly sealed with wide brown packing tape – fit snugly inside, leaving just enough space for the wrapping odds and ends the PI had removed yesterday. Thinking she detected a glimmer of white, she squeezed her hand down into the narrow space and retrieved a sheet of paper. Boldly printed on one side were two words – No Peeking! An aggravated groan escaped her and she slapped the paper down on top of the inner box, closed up the flaps, grabbed her coffee and plopped back down on the couch. That man!

It was late afternoon when the PI finally made his appearance, only the little cat Thomas coming to the door to greet him, the apartment quiet except for the rough sound of an LP skipping on the turntable. Grimacing at the staticky scratching noise, he walked across the living room, gently lifted the needle from the groove it was stuck in and placed the arm where it belonged before turning off the stereo. He turned and smiled at the sight of Edie asleep cuddled beneath a blanket on the couch, mail scattered on the cushion, a half empty coffee cup on the end table beside her. Pete gathered up the mail and set it aside, giving a silent chuckle as the woman stirred and muttered something unintelligible. Ten minutes later he came downstairs after changing clothes and found her sleepily teasing the cat with strips of tinsel and ribbon ties.

"Hi, Silly." He leaned down and kissed her lips.

"Hey, do that again," Edie said and smiled when he did. She disentangled herself from the blanket, stretching cramped muscles as she got to her feet. "I've missed you."

"Because I'm such a witty conversationalist and expert foot massager?" Pete slipped his arms around her waist, lips tilting in a smile.

"Because I still haven't seen what's in that box." Her fingers played in his hair.

"You haven't? That's just terrible. You must be losing your touch." He chuckled and gave her yet another kiss, one that lasted somewhat longer than the previous two.

"You certainly haven't lost yours," Edie observed with a wide grin as he finally released her lips. She reached to wipe a stray smudge of pale pink lipstick from his mouth, her hands straying down his chest, fingers fiddling with his shirt collar and the buttons lining the front of his dark blue cardigan. She idly wondered what he'd think of the red knit vest she'd bought him, already wrapped and resting beneath the tree.

"Well, we can't have that, can we?"

The PI nudged her toward the mysterious box. His fingers settled on the flaps and then stilled as he slanted a quizzical gaze in her direction.

"Are you positive you haven't opened this?" He wiggled a loose flap conspicuously. He was sure he'd tucked them all in yesterday.

"I never said I didn't open it," the blonde innocently prevaricated. "I said I haven't seen what's inside. My goodness you're a suspicious man!"

"I make a living out of being suspicious." The corners of his eyes crinkled. "And you should be one to talk," he teased.

Pete retrieved the inner box, set it on the coffee table and broke through the tape with a pair of scissors Edie had set aside with yesterday's wrapping paper. Then he reached in and lifted out what was inside.

"A portable TV?!" Edie placed her hands on her hips and smirked. "What happened to – and I quote – We don't need a TV, honey. We can entertain ourselves." Amusement shone in her narrowed gaze. "Am I suddenly not entertaining enough for you?"

"I figured it might come in handy." He placed the TV on top of the cabinet beside the stereo, plugged it in and extended the antenna. "For the news. If the world's going to hell in a hand basket we might as well know about it. And the weather."

"Mm-hmm." She gave him a sideways glance. "Not to mention baseball and boxing and golf..." She ticked them off on her fingers, eyes glinting with laughter.

Edie reached for the small product brochure taped to the side of the set, the brand name emblazoned prominently in large letters on the cover. Curious despite herself she flipped it open.

"Reflection-free portable 19-inch TV, first and only from Sylvania," she read aloud. "No annoying reflections from windows, lamps, or bright objects indoors or out." She turned to the back of the brochure. "First and only portable TV with reflection-free shatterproof screen for extra safety in your home." She raised her eyebrows and her lips trembled as she tried to hold back a smile. "Well, that's a relief – we won't have to worry about any stray bullets breaking the screen."

"Very funny." Pete twisted a knob on top of the TV and they waited for the set to warm up and the picture to appear. He turned the dial and flipped past several screens of snow before finding the first of the three network channels, just in time to catch the beginning of The Secret Storm. On the other two networks were reruns of Make Room for Daddy and American Bandstand. The PI picked a bright red bow from Edie's wrapping supplies and attached the sticky side to the television.

"Merry Christmas, Silly." He grabbed a second bow and set it atop her blonde head. "And don't worry..." he winked, "...if I have to choose between you and television it'll be you every time." His brows drew together and he turned his head and stared thoughtfully at the TV "Did you say golf...?"