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

Tuesday, December 6

Pete gently nudged Thomas out of the way with one sock-clad foot. The little ginger cat had been weaving between his ankles while the milk for the hot chocolate heated on the stove, just knowing it must be for him. The PI filled the mugs and spooned the chocolate in, stirred until the consistency was to his liking, then added small marshmallows to one and a squirt of Reddi-Wip to the other.

He carried the beverages into the living room and set them on an end table and then joined Edie at the patio doors. When they got home she had showered and donned satiny peach-colored pajamas bearing an artistic rose pattern. Her skin was still pink from the heat of the water and a whiff of lavender from her shampoo assailed Pete's nostrils.

"Isn't it pretty, Pete?" She leaned back against his chest.

A slim crescent moon hung low in the sky, seeming almost to touch the very tops of the buildings across the river. It lent a translucent sheen to the water, the reflections from the city lights highlighted by the soft glow. Reds and greens had joined the everyday white that normally streamed from windows and streetlamps at this early hour, that dark time between midnight and three when the city slowed and crawled into sleep. Holiday hues, blended with scattered luminous neon, offered a sense of cheerfulness to the waterfront. Pete wondered irrelevantly if people were looking across from the other side of the river and thinking the same thing.

The Fraser fir in the corner by the fireplace was lit, its multi-colored bulbs lethargically blinking on and off thanks to a winker plug Sheila Bell had mentioned to Edie after her husband Danny brought one home from Woolworth's. Pete had obligingly picked one up the previous day after dropping their Christmas cards at the post office. The flashes were mirrored in the glass doors, alternately brightening and darkening the room, and were furtively watched by Thomas. The cat, who had followed Pete into the living room after a bite from his dish of kibble, wasn't quite sure what to make of the lights or the dangly ornaments or the tree itself but they fascinated him.

The man didn't answer, merely stood silently and enjoyed the view – the one outside beneath the cold, crisp air as well as the one in his arms. Eventually he grasped Edie's hand and entwined his fingers with hers and led her to the sofa. He gathered up a blanket and they drew it around themselves, legs extended on an ottoman to absorb the heat of the cheery flames in the fireplace. After a moment Pete straightened and reached for the hot chocolate. He passed her the mug embellished with marshmallows and kept the other for himself. They sat for a while, warmed inside and out, sometimes talking quietly but mostly enjoying a companionable silence.

"Pete?" Edie looked at him over the rim of her mug. "Are you positive you don't mind helping with the decorations Sunday afternoon? It's really the only good time we have to get it all done, Sunday will be the eleventh already."

"I don't mind." He took her empty mug and set both aside. "Any day I get to spend with you is worth whatever mischief is involved."

"Perhaps..." she murmured, shifting sideways beneath the blanket and looping her arms around his neck, "...I can find some way to compensate you for your endeavors."

"Oh, really?" Pete reached an arm around her waist and pulled her, blanket and all, onto his lap. He leaned in and kissed her quite thoroughly, his lips slanting into a smile when he lifted his head and observed her flushed cheeks. "Come to think of it my time is quite valuable," he teased.

"So I've heard. In which case we might need to discuss some type of installment plan." Edie offered up a saucy grin. "I'm not sure I could afford you otherwise."

Pete's chest shook with laughter. He disentangled himself and got to his feet, pulling her up with him, the blanket pooling forgotten to the floor.

"What do you say we head somewhere more comfortable where we can, um... negotiate some favorable terms." His arms circled her waist, Edie's hands grasping his shoulders as they shared another slow kiss. Then he took her hand and urged her toward the stairs.

"Pete, the lights! And the tree – "

"I'll take care of it later..."


"Pete?" Edie nudged him.

"Mmm..." He rolled onto his side. Why was he so cold? He searched for the bed covers but they eluded him. Finally he caught the edge of the quilt and pulled it up to his chin and buried his nose in Edie's shoulder. His arm crept around her waist and he heaved a contented sigh. She felt so good against him, and warm...

"Pete, did you hear that?" She sat straight up in bed and shook his arm.

"I am not snoring..." he muttered.

"Pete, get up! Someone's downstairs!" She punched his shoulder for good measure. "It might be a burglar," she hissed.

The PI pried his eyes open and then quickly squeezed them shut. Why was the bedside lamp still on? He rolled onto his back and reached for the switch. Then he remembered the living room lights and the tree. And the fireplace probably needed a check. He sat up and found his boxers on the floor and slipped them on.

"I didn't hear anything, there's no one downstairs."

"Then why are you getting up?"

"To turn the – " Pete's head snapped up and he hurriedly grabbed his revolver from the nightstand drawer as a crash sounded from below. "Stay right here," he ordered.

He slipped through the doorway to the landing, pulling the bedroom door halfway shut behind him, and crept quietly down the stairs. A hard look toward the kitchen showed him nothing out of the ordinary. He checked the apartment door, the chain was in place, and stepped down into the living room. Talk about a silent night, he thought to himself. Nothing out of place, the patio doors were closed. He placed his pistol on the coffee bar and walked over and pulled the cord on the drapes to close them.

As the the PI reached to pull the plug on the Christmas tree lights he was attacked from behind. He yelped and the tree tottered.

"Pete! What happened? Are you all right?"

Edie stood at the top of the stairs, the quilt wrapped around her, both hands holding onto it tightly as she stared down at him with concerned eyes.

"You're afraid there's a burglar and you're prancing around in a blanket?"

"I'm not prancing. What happened?"

"The cat is stuck in the tree..." Pete heaved an exasperated sigh. "Again."