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Peter’s tongue was stuck out in focus. He sat on the floor of the pad’s living room, boxes and bags strewn about. He opened the cylinder of wrapping paper and stretched his leg out to pin the end down so it wouldn’t curl back in. He looked silly, Peter knew, but it was the only way to keep the paper nice and flat. He rested a box of overdue library books on chemistry and alchemy in the center, grabbed scissors, and went to cut the wrapping paper.
“Hey, shotgun–”
Peter screamed and jumped, causing the wrapping paper to rip and a pair of scissors to fly in the air. Peter turned around to see an equally stunned Mike.
“You scared me.”
Mike nodded, inching towards Peter. He looked down at the gift Peter was wrapping. “Sorry for scarin’ you. And, uh, tearin’ your paper.”
“It’s okay, Micheal.” Peter reached forward to grab the scissors and cut the ripped wrapping paper off. He repeated the process of preparing his wrapping paper. Mike sat down behind Peter and rested his chin on the other’s shoulder, watching the gift wrapping master at work.
When it came to gift giving , Peter could use improvements. But when it came to gift wrapping , Peter excelled. The gifts always came out extraordinarily neat and clean, like something out of a commercial. He was also very good at tying big bows, which made the gift boxes look even nicer. The other Monkees weren’t as good as Peter; their gifts ending up clunky and bulky. They could always tell who wrapped the gifts based on what was wrong with them. Mike often left gaps so the item would pop out, Davy uses way too much tape, and Micky barely tries.
Peter was the only one who took the wrapping seriously.
Mike played with the hem of Peter’s loose long-sleeve as he analyzed the bassist's methods. Peter taped the present and tied a bow around it, finishing his masterpiece. Mike attempted to take in the bassist’s process, but in the end, he couldn’t. He did the exact same thing, and his presents still ended up ugly! Mike huffed in frustration at this realization.
Peter rubbed his cheek against Mike’s. “What are you huffing over?”
“I can’t make nice lookin’ presents.” He said. “I wrap ‘em the same way you do an’ mine are ugly.”
“Aw, I like your ugly presents!” Peter smiled, dimple bright on his face. “I always know what they are before I open them.”
Mike laughed softly at Peter’s comment. Peter put the present to the side and turned his body around to face Mike. Their faces were only a few inches away from each other as Peter attempted to make eye contact. He tried for a moment before his eyes darted to Mike’s nose, ears, lips and hair. Mike didn’t mind, knowing the boy always struggled with eye contact.
“Did you finish wrapping all your gifts, Micheal?”
“Mhm,” Mike brushed Peter’s bangs out of his face. “Did you?”
Peter smiled and nodded. He got up, grabbed the present and put it under their very small, very thin Christmas tree. Well, it wasn’t a tree, actually; it was a tree branch they stuck into a pot and decorated with mismatched ornaments and an origami star. There were a few presents underneath its short branches, one for each Monkee from each Monkee.
Peter stood back and admired his work. Mike walked past him and plugged in the multi-colored lights wrapped around the tree branch. There was a clump of knotted lights not-so-hidden behind the pot that couldn’t fit on the tree. Their Christmas tree lit up, the light's reflecting in Peter's soft brown eyes.
“It’s beautiful, isn’t it, Micheal?” Peter sighed out, obviously off in his own world.
“Uh,” Mike looked at, what he thought was, a small, pathetic Christmas tree. Peter saw things differently from him; what Mike sees as ordinary, Peter is in awe at. It made Mike begin to look at the world in a lighter way. “Yeah, babe, it’s great.”
Mike stood by Peter’s side and slung an arm over his shoulders. Peter responded by wrapping his arm around Mike’s waist, thumb massaging his hip.
The next day it would be Christmas, and everyone would open their gifts. They’d struggle to open Davy’s over-taped gifts, joke about Mike’s gifts which they could obviously see, make fun of Micky’s total incompetence with wrapping, and whine about Peter’s sheer skill.