Wiffle (faerie_dance) wrote in daily_snippets,

Ficlet/Drabble! Nah, its a ficlet.

Title: Platonic
Rating: G
Pairing: Peter/Edmund
Summary: When Peter hugs Edmund, he sometimes lets the hug linger longer than it should.
Dedication: Fisheh (whoops, capegio) gave me this prompt forever and a day ago, and its been sitting hidden on my journal for ages. So I refined and thought I'd share, see what you guys think! So this is to you, oh Fisheh of my heart.


When Peter hugs Edmund, he sometimes lets the hug linger longer than it should. Whenever Edmund wins at sparring or jousting or some random game they have undertaken, Peter pretends to pout, but inwardly he is filled with too much pride. During those moments Edmund's brown eyes are bright, his smile picture-perfect: an image that should be painted and displayed for all to see (or perhaps only for Peter to see). Peter wishes he could just keep that smile in his heart, keep Edmund in his heart, tucked away where no one can find him. Edmund loves him, of that he knows, but sometimes, maybe even just once, Peter wishes that their love could be anything but platonic.

When Edmund hugs Peter, he likes to think that it lingers for longer than a hug should. When Edmund wins in their horseraces or their swordfights, he knows the smile plastered on his face has nothing to do with winning. Seeing the pout on his brother's face is perfect, and sometimes he has to wonder if his brother is even pouting at all. During these moments he is all smiles, all smirks, all laughter, all twinkling eyes. But as he watches his brother dance regally past him with yet another princess, converse majestically with another suitor, smile warmly at another person, Edmund is anything but smiles and laughter. No, in those moments he wishes he could just keep Peter in his heart, keep Peter with him, keep all that warmth and magnificence tucked away where no one else can find him. Edmund knows Peter loves him, has always loved him, despite all he's done. But sometimes, maybe just even once, Edmund wishes that their love could be anything but platonic.

But when the day becomes a bit too warm and sultry, the kind where moisture hangs in the air and your mind plays tricks on you, and when their sparring match has been going on for longer than it should, and it is anything but romantic, when their swords cross and they pause for a moment, breathing heavily, an 'x' made of wood crossed between their hearts, between their bodies, Peter's mind runs away from him.

And when Edmund thinks that today he just might lose to Peter, and miss the chance of seeing that pout until the morrow, he is distressed. Even now as their swords cross and they remain face to face for a momentary breath, he is already calculating his next move, how to win that pout that is only his to see. He opens his mouth to say something sarcastic, as Edmund is won't to do, but then, Edmund's mind flies away from him.

The kiss is just like the day, warm and sultry and anything but romantic. It is a slip-slide of lips on lips, a tumble of swords knocked off balance, bodies knocked off kilter. But it is a kiss that is received, returned, reciprocated. It is enough to make Peter believe that perhaps he can tuck those smiles and laughter away in his heart, it is a kiss that gives Edmund the hope that he can tuck that golden warmth away in his heart.

It is far too short in either brothers' opinion. But there is a moment afterwards, of secret smiles and hopes no longer hidden.

It is in this moment that Peter realizes: one moment would never be enough. And it is in this moment that Edmund thinks, their love can be anything but platonic.
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