"Peter…Peter…" "That's his name, is it?" "Yes. Sweet little Peter." Soft hands. Warm hands, lifting him. "You're going to be a gentleman…I can see it in his eyes, Helen." Mum laughter. "Of course he will be. He has you for a father." Abruptly, Peter was cold.
"Dad!" Peter shot upright with one hand fisted instinctively, the other reaching outward with fingers splayed. As soon as his mind came into focus (open door, afternoon sky, and smell of supper), the dream slipped away. He tried to grasp it, fingers closing on empty air, for the smell of horseradish and tobacco (Dad's favorite pocket-fillers) lingered on the roof of his mouth. The feeling of being embraced had not completely faded. Peter looked around blearily, shivering in spite of the summer heat drifting in, courtesy of a cracked window.
He looked down, at his bare white knees and sweat-crusted nightshirt. The blankets were gone.
"Ed," Peter grumbled, sufficiently annoyed. He stood and grabbed a pillow, just incase the bugger was lurking somewhere in the room, waiting for an opportunity to pounce. Peter wouldn't be had so easily, even half-asleep. "I'll show you."
The giggle that answered him was decidedly not Edmund's. Ed didn't giggle.
It had to be Lucy, Peter surmised, creeping towards the closet. Susan simply didn't play tricks (anymore). She had once, before she'd discovered books and how fulfilling it was to be smart. Therefore, the trickster had to be Lucy, who couldn't hide for two seconds without giving herself away. Peter felt a smile coming on. Lucy he could handle.
"Gotcha!" He roared, throwing open the closet and reaching behind a box of Ed's toys, grabbing Lucy about the waist and hoisting her into his arms. She squealed delightfully, pounding on his shoulders and kicking his thighs with stocking-clad feet.
"Peter," she squeaked when he began to tickle her sides, her plump cheeks turning bright red from laughter, "Peter, stop it!"
"And why should I," he replied very calmly, finding the sensitive spot just beneath her armpits, "You woke me up."
"I'm sowwy! Peter!"
He relented, ceasing the tickle torture and lowering Lucy to the ground. "Well, I suppose if you're sorry…"
"Thank you," she said primly, attempting to smooth down her jumper and regain some lady-like dignity. "Mum says you're to come down and eat. We're all waiting for you." A grin popped onto her face. "Ed's getting very grumpy, he…"
Peter grasped her arm gently and steered her towards the door. "I need to clean up, Lu. Where did you put the blankets?"
"What blankets?" Her button nose wrinkled in confusion. She glanced back towards the rumpled bed as if noticing the absence of sheets for the first time.
"Never mind. Go on, now. Tell Mum I'll be right down." She obediently scampered down the hallway, for a moment. Then she skidded to a stop. "Peter?"
"Yes, Lu?" He drew his nightshirt back down and opened the bedroom door, peeking out.
"Are you alright?"
He had to think about it for a moment before he recalled that she had been in the room during his dream…and therefore, during his sudden awakening. He beckoned her closer and crouched, forcing a smile as the weary despair threatened to hang over him again. "I'm fine, it was just a dream."
She didn't seem convinced, and crossed her arms in Mum fashion. "Are you sure?"
"Yes, now not another word about it. It'll be our little secret, alright?"
Lucy liked secrets. She bit her lower lip and giggled, nodding in approval. "Alright."