InsaneJournal

Various Peter/Wendy snippets for Nikki


Title: Peter/Wendy: [I.] – [VI.]
Written for: Nikki
Author: ~ Monique ~
Rating: Varying…there is nothing explicit, though [IV.] has a warning, as it is a little, itty, bit racy
Fandom: Peter Pan
Pairing/Ship(s): Peter/Wendy
Spoilers: Sort of - if you’ve never read “Peter Pan and Wendy” or seen “Peter Pan (2003)”.
Summary: Various Peter Pan…things. No real Drabbles. *;.;*
Word Count: Varies in each segment.
Disclaimer: I don’t own Peter Pan. These were born of an attempt to write one frickin’ Peter/Wendy drabble. No, really. I fail.
AN1: I suck at drabbles. I love [SJ.]. That is all.


[I.]


She was nearly as tall as he'd always be. She bought her nightgowns two sizes too large, since just after the start of her first menstruation, and found need of a brassiere. Her face was too skinny and her hips too round.

“Wendy! Spring Cleaning has come at last!”

She did not say, “It has come and gone twice since you promised you’d return, Peter.”

She did not say, “Teach me to fly again – I’m sure I must have forgotten.”

Wendy Moira Angela Darling smiled a wide, wistful smile. Peter Pan wondered why he’d never seen such a look on any other child he’d known.

With one hand he reached for her - “Come away with me.” “Of course, boy.” – and from the other he blew the fairy dust.

When Wendy lifted into the air, her fingers long in his grip, Peter smiled too.


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- Fini -

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- Word count: 144 … it felt wrong to cut anymore off. Hmm…I’ll try again:


[II.]


“Mother?”

“Yes, Father?”

“Wouldn’t it be wonderful to send the children away?”

Wendy blinked slowly, absorbing Peter’s question. “Why’s that, Father?”

Peter grinned, his eyes crinkling in glee. “They keep interrupting. Surely such naughty children should be punished!”

She inclined her head, curious. “Do you think them so disruptive, Peter?”

His bright green eyes twinkled gaily, his pleasure painted on the happy quirk of his lips. “Oh, yes. I’ve asked for a thimble twice now, and both times they’ve gotten in the way.”

Clearing her throat of a rather unladylike bout of laughter, Wendy matched Peter’s smiled. “Oh, Peter, don’t you know?”

“Know what, Wendy?”

“Third time’s lucky.”


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- Fini -

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- Word count: 108 …wow. I suck at word limits. Well, you know what they say (in America) ‘third time’s the charm.’ *lol*


[III.]


It was very quiet in most areas of the tree-house. The children were asleep – tired from a long day of games – whilst their Mother and Father discussed parents’ subjects between knitting and flute-playing.

“ - and the Jolly Roger will be ours again, Mother!”

“Yes, Father.” Wendy smiled indulgently, Peter’s plans dancing before her mind’s eye.

“Wendy,” he said, sweetly, “perhaps it’s time for bed?”

Glancing at the boys – all new since last she’d been to Neverland – she carefully placed her knitting on the floor and nodded. “Yes, I think it is, Peter.”

He stood; his smile large and wicked in the fire’s glow, “I’ll have my Thimble, then.”

“You’ve already had your Thimble; twice, if I’m not mistaken.” Peter found her flushed face a delight, his mirth ringing through his clear laughter.

“Oh, no, Wendy – you must be mistaken! I haven’t!”

She knew he didn’t mean it – not the way she imagined he could, were he not the ‘forever boy’ – but she blushed and stammered all the same. Fifteen was romantic and dramatic and young; too young for her not to love this magic child. It was just not old enough for her to have learned to separate affection from desire, or gain the will to.

He stood before her – taller, but only just – his hands proudly on his hips, waiting. She rose, smiling softly, before leaning forward to whisper, “Oh, the cleverness of you” and giving him his – third – nightly kiss.


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- Fini -

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- Word count: 243 … I suck at this drabble thing. *>.<*


[IV.]


WARNING: Um…slightly more mature than everything else. There’s nothing explicit, but it’s not quite…innocent, either.


“I don’t know. I guess it becomes clearer when you grow up.”


Wendy wasn’t sure when she figured out she was in love with Peter Pan. She wasn’t sure why it was so hard to choose to grow up or not. However, she very clearly recalled when she first felt grown up.

Giving Peter her Secret Kiss wasn’t an act of desire in the carnal sense – it was a need; desperation and love and all things sweet and good within her that she had to give him before she died. But, she didn’t die, because Peter went pink with delight and wonder, knowing his Wendy had given him a very dear part of herself, even if he didn’t know exactly what it was or meant.

And so, the Hero went on to defeat the Villain and lead the Lady – and her brothers – home in a valiant show of courage and cleverness. She had never loved him so much as in the moment she realized he would not stay and she could not keep him.

Time passed and the children, no longer in the grips of the Neverland, grew along with it. The changes came fast for some and seemed to lag for others. Wendy, naturally, was of the former sort, her conviction to accept adulthood and leave behind childish things – except Peter, she knew he would not be left behind – urging her to understand; to make it worth it; to make coming home the right decision in all of her.

Wendy always imagined that growing up would be like lifting the haze, which accumulated sometime after ‘childhood’ and somewhere before ‘adulthood’, from her eyes. She imagined her mind being expanded and filled and cleared, giving her possession of the lucid understandings of all things she could not know as a child; things she was certain her Mother and Father and every other Adult she had ever seen must know. She could not have anticipated the chaos of aging – the stirrings of her schoolmates to learn matters unrelated to the academia, the changing of her body and her thinking; the confusion of hormones and flirting and double entendres. Along with Business and Art, Sarcasm and Sex were no longer topics only her elders chuckled about; now, she was invited to converse and flirt and grow up - which didn’t make anything clearer as far as she was concerned.

Despite the changes, Wendy’s dreams were vivid as ever. Her story-telling had matured as she did; her words more elegant and learned, and more sure than they had ever been. Waking from her nighttime visions, she would ponder her imaginings and take them to paper should she find them particularly adventurous or amusing or frightening.

Her dreams, however, took an unanticipated twist on the eve of her fifteenth birthday. That night, as she lay in her bed fevered and sweaty, she wondered if Peter was ever ill and if someone would know what to do should he cough and sneeze and run a temperature. These seemingly silly worries – really, how could sickness ever catch Peter Pan? – lulled her to sleep, where she found herself pressed against a flushed and sweaty Peter.

She did not know she was sleeping – as often one does not realize themselves dreaming till the dream is spent – and she could not remember anything before the moment she felt Peter – who couldn’t really be Peter, for Peter Pan did not have so long a neck or so broad a chest – put a too-large-hand on her nape. Before she could properly wonder about his sudden appearance, he urged her forward and guided her lips to his own for a hard kiss. She was instantly aware of a pulsing; his breath was hot on her lips and he released his hold as she turned her face only to lick at her ear, his fingers in her hair, his knee between her thighs – she felt as if she would melt, incinerated from within by a pulsing heat, and from without by the fire of his skin, his breath, his sweat. Gravity pulled her closer still and no matter how she twisted or arched or pushed, he was there, and there, and everywhere she could feel.

Bringing her eyes to his heated gaze, she found herself unafraid. Yes she was shivering, panting, her heart racing, her limbs fraught with tension – but it was not fear. She knew fear; fear didn’t burn.

And, then, she knew. She knew exactly what she wanted from Peter when all he could do was pretend and play and never grow up. She knew she wanted to give him her secret kiss and her happy kiss and her sad kiss and every kiss she had to give. Then she wanted him to give her his kisses. And follow it with this.

She wanted this and more.

When Wendy woke, her blood pounding in her ears, she could still see his eyes, wanting; could feel his skin beneath her fingers, his tongue along her ear. She blinked quickly, unwilling to close her eyes for fear she might find her dreams more appealing than her life and never open them again.

Growing up was finally starting to make sense.


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- Fini -

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- Word count: 855 … this isn’t even pretending to be a drabble. *>.<*


[V.]


Peter splashed as he did everything else – loud, large, and with great enthusiasm.

Caught on the business end of a particularly large attack – meant for Tootles, who was busy avoiding a tackle from Twin 2 – Wendy was left in a state that was embarrassing only to her. No one else had seen her thin, white gown get wet, and no one seemed to care that she was blushing hotly as she pulled the material from her body, all but running from the lagoon.

On the shaded side of a rather large tree she leaned to catch her breath, only to gasp loudly as the dripping, upside-down face of a widely grinning Peter Pan materialized before her.

“Peter! You startled me!”

“Oh,” he said, “where are you off to? The game’s just begun!” He righted himself, crossing his legs to hover mid-air before a softly panting Wendy. His grin was smaller now, his head tilting as his eyes drifted across her flushed skin. “Wendy?”

“I’m fine!” she assured him quickly, and felt foolish for her lie. His gaze was curious and friendly, but she could not bring herself to look into his eyes. “Just fine. Go on back to the game…you’re missing the fun.”

Peter was oddly quiet for just a moment longer than she felt comfortable with. He straightened so as to stand on the ground, her lowered gaze filling with the sight of his feet and legs. Then his rough, still-dripping hand was on her face, which was hot against his cool, wet palm. He trailed his fingers lightly back and forth across her skin, absorbing the heat of her blush. “Come swim with me, Wendy. It’s more fun when you’re there.”

His childish grin was bright across his face, and she knew he wanted her to agree. ‘Silly Wendy,’ she thought to herself and nodded, smiling for him. His pleasure over having his way was so obvious he nearly glowed, forgetting to wonder why she’d left at all. The sun shown off the sheen of water and sweat on his skin, and his smirk was brash and beautiful to her eyes. As he lifted her into the air she knew flying wasn’t necessary, but couldn’t bring herself to say so. She made sure to watch the ground as he flew them back to the water, enjoying the feel of his arms before he dropped her in the lagoon with a booming, haughty laugh.

She laughed, splashed and played; loudly and with growing enthusiasm. He smiled for her again and it was worth ignoring her modesty – she was, after all, the only one that seemed to bother having any anymore.


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- Fini -

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- Word count: 441…I fail.


[VI.]


Peter took the book from Wendy’s hand, his eyes curious, his upper lip curled in dislike.

“Yes, Peter, I was reading. If you’d hand me my book, I could get back to that.” She didn’t sound particularly angry, but her face flushed. Peter liked when she did that – it made her look prettier, like the flowers she kept on the windowsills of her little house.

“Is it a great adventure?”

“Oh…” Wendy smiled. He liked that too. “Well, not quite.”

“Why read it then?”

“Because it is a great romance…which is its own adventure, really.”

“Really?”

“Really.”

When she kissed his cheek before taking back her book, Peter reasoned there might be something to reading after all.


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- Fini -

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- Word count: 117…I give up. *>.<* This was written for the lovely Nikki and was my sixth attempt at a Peter/Wendy drabble, I’ll have you know. *lol*


~ Monique ~