A Drabble A Day #20: Memories
Peter let out a large yawn, snuggling closer to Claude as the invisible man ruffled his hair gently. He wondered how many other couples spent December nights like this; decorating trees without using their hands, having sex in mid-air (sometimes Peter lost control during heated moments), drinking delicious hot chocolate, and sleeping half-naked with the window shades up and not really caring. Not many, he guessed.
"Claude... can I ask you something?"
"You just did."
Peter snorted, amazed with himself for not seeing such a reply coming. "Okay, let me ask you something else, then."
"Go ahead."
"What was Christmas like for you before... this? I mean, how was life in general? I know you weren't always like this." He had meant to elaborate by saying, "you weren't always poor like this", but he didn't want to use that word in fear of making Claude sound like he was lower-class or something.
Claude thought about it for a moment, and as he wore a pensive gaze, Peter was tempted to read his mind.
"Not telling you," he declared. "Not tonight, anyway. Maybe tomorrow."
"Claude!" Peter whined softly, but the other man rolled over and ignored him. This tested Peter's self-restraint even more, and eventually, he decided to just sneak a little into Claude's mind. There were images of large dinner tables covered with food, stacks upon stacks of neatly-wrapped presents, a huge tree decorated with countless ornaments and lights, and a smiling little boy with a short, neat haircut. Peter couldn't quite make out what he was saying, but he could hear an accent in the child's voice, and a tone of joyfulness. The happy memories, however, were soon replaced by sadder ones, ones that had a middle-aged man standing alone on rooftops or street corners, staring longingly at the decorations adorning the shops. Only for one instance did he see another face; it was a woman's, beautiful and long and sad.
By then, Claude seemed to have noticed that his personal memories were being looked at, so he turned to Peter again and frowned.
"That's rather rude, you know. Peekin' into my past. You're terribly impatient."
"I'm sorry..." said Peter almost shamefully. "I... I just..."
"It's alright. Just stop doing it for now so I can sleep, 'cause when you do it, it's like there's a buzzing in my ears."
"Heh, okay, sorry. Good night, Claude."
Claude kissed the top of his head and squeezed his shoulder before rolling over again. "G'night, Poodle."
A/N: OMG. A quadruple-drabble! Is this breaking some sort of drabble rule? Is this a ficlet? I really didn't have the heart to shorten it. I did consider making it a two-parter, but then I decided against it. I hope you like it anyway; the longer the better, maybe?