by KatiKat
We are sitting here, on the padded
windowsill, enjoying the warmth of our patchwork afghan. Quatre is leaning with
his back against the wall and Iīm sitting between his gently spread legs,
resting my back against his chest. My head is lying in the crook of his neck
and his warm, musky scent tickles my nose. His arms are loosely closed around
my chest, our hands are locked, fingers intertwined. My eyes are closed and Iīm
enjoying the deep hum of his voice and the thu-thumping sound of his heart. I
donīt think Iīve ever felt so content in my life.
"The room is dark, but the fire is
burning in the fireplace. Can you hear the crackling of wood?" he says,
his voice low. "The little lights on the Christmas tree are blinking. They
are red and blue and white, but mostly green. You like green, donīt you?"
he asks and I can hear the smile in his voice. I nod once, my bangs moving
against his jaw.
"The window is frosted over and I
canīt see outside. The frost has drawn beautiful pictures on the glass. Some
look like jungle flowers, others like bracken."
He lifts up our locked hands, then he
lets go of mine and closes his fingers around my wrist. He presses my palm
against the glass of the window. Itīs so cold that it almost burns on my skin.
I can feel the frost melt under my palm, little droplets of water are running
down my wrist, but he catches them before they can wet my sleeve.
Quatre raises my hand from the glass
and lets me go. My hand hovers expectantly in the air as he searches for a
clean handkerchief to dry my palm. When he finishes his task, he tucks my hand
back under the warm cover. I canīt help but snuggle closer to him. I can feel
him smile.
I hear him dry the little hole we melted
with the handkerchief before he tucks it back into his pocket. Then his hand
finds its way to mine again.
"There," he says. "Itīs
dark outside, but Rashid lit the light over the front door as he usually does at
night. I can see the city lights from here. They are far away and they seem to
blink at us. The sky is dark, heavy clouds are covering the stars and the moon,
and itīs snowing. Snowflakes are falling from the sky and landing softly on the
ground. There is a lot of snow outside already. Itīs good that we donīt need to
go anywhere soon, otherwise we would have to dig our way out." He smiles
again and I answer him with a smile of my own.
"The snowflakes are large and they
are falling in big lumps. There is almost no wind outside, so they only swirl
gently before they join the others already on the ground." He pauses.
"Our little looking hole is frosting over again. It must be really cold
outside."
He pauses again and I sigh contently. I
can feel him smile again. He tightens his hold on me, bringing us even closer
together. My eyes are still closed and suddenly it doesnīt matter that even if
I opened them the only thing I would see is darkness. One doesnīt need sight to
dream of a white Christmas. Not with a man like Quatre who has the most
beautiful eyes in the world.
"The white cover is heavy on the
branches," he continues. "They are bent down and the snow is slowly
falling off of them, making deep holes in the whiteness on the ground..."
The End