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Awakenings	By : KimberlyA Category: M through R > Peter Pan > Het Views: 16011 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Peter Pan, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 9
- 10
- 11
Author's Note: I apologize for all the fluffy romance, but I find that I am apparently unable to write a pure smut story, at least for these two characters.

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Chapter 10
The Plan
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As they flew through the air, Wendy was not surprised that they seemed headed toward Neverland, but she was surprised that Peter did not speak to her during the entire voyage. Instead, he looked always ahead, his jaw set in determined lines.

When they arrived in Neverland, Peter led her to a clearing she had never seen before, beside a huge, towering oak tree. "Peter...?" she began, but Peter raised a hand to stop her. He stood stiffly and nervously, just as he had done in her bedroom.

"Wendy, don't say anything. I want to show you something. Or ... well ... more than one thing. So, just ... wait ... wait until you see everything. Don't say anything now."

Puzzled, Wendy nodded, curious to see what it was that Peter was referring to.

Bowing formally, Peter said with great solemnity, as if he had prepared the statement in advance, "Wendy, I want to be your husband."

Her eyebrows rising, Wendy opened her mouth to speak, to assure Peter that she had come with him to stay, but Peter again raised his hand to ask her to stay silent. Unsure exactly what was happening, Wendy closed her mouth and watched Peter in confusion. He was behaving so very strangely!

Taking her hand with a rather gallant gesture, Peter flew up into the gigantic oak tree, landing upon a thick branch with Wendy beside him. Up close, Wendy could see that some structure was built within the branches of the tree, and indeed Peter opened a door in front of her, and showed her inside.

It was a house very like the one the Lost Boys had built for her so long ago, though this was much larger, and contained rustic furniture. The walls and floors -- and indeed the bed and chairs and tables and other furnishings -- were made of branches, vines, moss, bark, leaves, and other such natural materials. Tinker Bell was inside waiting for them, and flew about the room with a jingling chatter, stopping beside each new interesting part of the house to gesture encouragingly for Wendy to look.

From the ground, the house had been nearly invisible, its colorings and textures blending easily with the tree's leaves and branches, but the dwelling was quite cunning from the inside, very cozy and comfortable, with plenty of sunlight to illuminate its many charms.

"Oh, Peter, it's lovely!" cried Wendy, clasping her hands before her in pleasure.

"A husband must provide a house," stated Peter, still in the stilted tone that seemed to indicate he was reciting well-practiced lines. Rubbing one hand nervously through his always messy hair, Peter then boasted shyly, "I made this house for you, so that I can be your husband."

In truth, the Lost Boys had done most of the actual construction while Peter "supervised," but Peter blithely claimed the credit for a job well done. He remembered his initial intent to build a house for Wendy, and conveniently forgot that others had been instrumental in the execution of his plan. He was quite proud of the clever house "he" had built.

"But, Peter..." Wendy began, wanting to tell him that he did not need to go to such lengths for her, but again Peter raised his hand, looking so anxious and determined that Wendy nodded reluctantly and waited for him to continue.

Peter's sudden high, sharp whistle made Wendy jump with fright, and then press one hand to her racing heart, laughing lightly at her own silliness. Tinker Bell flew to him and perched upon his shoulder to watce pre proceedings. Wendy was rather glad the fairy was now holding still and had ceased her energetic attempts to show the house to best advantage, for her sparkling flourishes had been exceedingly distracting.

In response to the whistle, five young boys appeared as if out of nowhere, most likely descending from the branches of the tree. They shuffled to stand before her on the mossy floor, hats in their hands and innocently impish smiles upon their not-quite-clean faces. Peter had convinced them to wash for the occasion, but they had done a rather haphazard job of it, and if Wendy had checked behind their ears she would have been quite horrified.

"You must be the new Lost Boys," Wendy guessed, smiling brightly at them.

They nodded, glancing at Peter for some indication of what they should do. This was Peter's plan, after all. When he only shrugged at them, the boys eagerly spoke in rather chaotic unison.

"I'm Twigs."

"I'm Blotter."

"My name is Zed. Glad to meet you!"

"They call me Rankle, on account of Peter says I talk too much and he gets very irritated."

The youngest boy, probably no more than 5 years old, had not spoken. Wendy knelt down before him and asked gently, "And what is your name?"

But the small tow-headed boy only looked up at the others. The skinny boy who had said his name was Twigs explained, "He don't talk, miss."

Frowning, Wendy asked, "Does he have a name?"

The boys all glanced at each other, and then at Peter, who shrugged again. Tinker Bell scoffed. It appeared that no one knew, or no one remembered, or no one had given the boy a name. Aghast at this neglect, Wendy asked the small boy, "Do you want a name?" and he nodded eagerly. "How about Sprout?" she suggested with a motherly smile. "Because I expect you shall grow very tall one day."

The Lost Boys burst out speaking in unison again, their words tumbling over each other as the boys themselves did when they played.

"Wonderful name! Sprout!"

"I say, that's top rate!"

"Could I have a new name, too? 'Sprout' is better than mine."

"Why didn't I get a name from the Wendy lady? So unfair!"

And then the boys quickly resorted to the usual pushing and shoving, their voices raised in childish shouTherThere was even, if the honest truth be told, some kicking and biting, which is never sporting. It was not a true fight, of course, but rather only a play fight which all involved enjoyed tremendously. Young Sprout even ran mischievously between the struggling others, poking and tripping the older boys wherever he could.

Peter cleared his throat and frowned meaningfully, and the Lost Boys immediately fell silent, pulling apart and brushing themselves off, looking suitably chastened. Wendy walked to Peter, one eyebrow raised in curiosity.

Again with that odd formality, Peter explained with a gesture toward the boys, "A husband should provide child" We" Wendy blushed, knowing how husbands usually provided children, but Peter was mildly puzzled by her reaction. He did not ask, however, for he was working very hard to avoid looking ignorant. He was focusing exclusively on boldly declaring those things that he did know. And one of the things he knew was that husbands provided children. And he could do this for Wendy. "There will always be more Lost Boys, as long as nurses are so very careless with their prams. And so you shall never lack for children, Wendy."

Before Wendy could even begin to react, Peter crooked his finger in a gesture that called forth the red-headed Lost Boy who had called himself Blotter. Blotter proudly pulled a sack from behind him and upended it, spilling gold doubloons and other shining pirate treasure out upon the mossy floor.

Wendy gasped, glancing at Peter for explanation. "A husband must provide money," he explained, watching Wendy's face to see how she might be reacting to all of this. After a moment, he added awkwardly, "I don't know why you want money, but I have plenty of treasure, so you can have as much as you want." Tinker Bell flew down to shine her light upon the gold, making it look that much brighter. She and Peter had developed this plan together, after all, and so Tink was determined to receive some of the credit.

Despite her best efforts, Wendy was beginning to be very amused with these odd proceedings. She was touched, of course, that Peter wanted to be her husband, and that he had gone to such trouble for her, but she was also tickled by his naive attitude toward the concept of marriage.

Seeing that Wendy seemed to be laughing at him, if only with her eyes, Peter grew more desperate. "A husband provides protection!" he insisted quickly. "Haven't I always protected you? Didn't I rescue you when Hook made you walk the plank? Didn't my kiss save you when you were nearly shot with an arrow? Didn't I watch in at your window during the nights, to make sure that you were safe?"

Wendy, of course, had not realized how often Peter had watched over her, but she now did, and was moved by this further evidence of his caring for her. It would seem that the imprints in the snow on her windowsill had been handprints after all, just as she had hoped.

Turning to Peter, Wendy opened her mouth to speak, but Peter again raised his hand, insisting worriedly, "Wait! No! Don't say anything yet!"

But Wendy had had quite enough of this treatment and would not be deterred. She stamped her bare foot on the surprisingly sturdy floor -- the Lost Boys had done excellent work, despite their frequent distractions to chase squirrels, knock each other out of the tree, and engage in mock sword fights with slender branches as swords -- and said firmly, "I will not be shushed, Peter Pan. A husband does not shush his wife! A husband respects his wife and listens to her when she has something to say!"

Peter, suddenly crestfallen, looked down at the ground, his shoulders sagging in defeat. He had failed the test. He'd only been trying to show Wendy all of the reasons why she should let him be her husband, but he had not realized that he was doing it all wrong. Neither he nor Tinker Bell had heard of this rule about not shushing. Now everything was ruined. Wendy would never let him be her husband now. Tinker Bell flew to him, but he batted her away despondently.

"Peter," Wendy said gently, bending her head in an unsuccessful attempt to catch his gaze. Peter would not look at her, the shame and disappointment on his face heartbreaking for Wendy to see. "Peter, this is all splendid, and I am very grateful. But ... there is only one thing I truly need from a husband."

Peter mumbled gloomily, without looking up, "Is it proper money? I knew pirate treasure wouldn't count as proper money. I knew it."

"No, Peter," Wendy smiled, "it is not proper money. It is love."

"Love?" Peter's voice was soft and uncertain. He and Tink had heard about this one, and so it was not precisely a surprise to him. It had been next on his list of things to present to Wendy. If he had known it was the most important, he would certainly have offered it first, instead of last. But it couldn't be this simple, could it? What about the shushing disaster?

"Love is the only thing I truly need from a husband, Peter." Not wanting an audience for this sensitive conversation, Wendy gently encouraged the Lost Boys to leave her and Peter alone. The boys dutifully filed out, Tinker Bell reluctantly flying out with them, all of them casting curious glances back at their leader, who had eyes only for Wendy.

"What about the shushing?" asked Peter hesitantly, watching Wendy's face for cues as to her thoughts and feelings. Her hair was shining in the yellow sunlight that streamed through the windows, and her eyes were bright and blue. She looked ... she looked so very beautiful. And she was smiling. He relaxed slightly, but still waited for her response to his question.

Wendy stepped nearer to him and looked up into his face, her expression serious. "Why do you want to be my husband, Peter?"

Peter swallowed, suddenly nervous again. He had not realized there would be a quiz. He searched his mind for the correct answer. Certainly he and Tink must have learned something of this in all their travels to investigate the topic. Why do you want to be a husband? Why a husband? Oh ... what was the correct answer? He could not think! It was terrible! A catastrophe!

"Peter," Wendy put one hand upon his cheek so that she could turn his head toward hers, forcing him to meet her eyes. "Peter, just tell me. What are your ... feelings?"

"Feelings?" repeated Peter, unknowingly echoing a conversation they had had years before, a conversation which had not ended well for either of them. He felt panic rising within him. He had not expected all of these questions. He had wanted to show her that he could be a good husband, and then have her stay with him. It was all suddenly so complicated. Why couldn't things be simple?

Stroking her hand soothingly through Peter's tousled hair, Wendy watched his eyes as she asked quietly, "Do you love me, Peter?"

A yes or no question! Peter knew the answer to this one, and so he nodded jerkily, still expecting some hidden trap, still certain it could not be so simple, not after so many difficult questions had been lobbed at him.

But Wendy's smile had softened and gladdened at his response, and she asked him even more quietly, "Truly, Peter? You truly love me?"

She was leaning toward him, and so Peter hesitantly rested his hands upon her waist to steady her, and to steady himself. Could it be so easy?

"Yes, Wendy. Truly," he whispered. He did not say the word, but perhaps someday he would have the courage to do so. For now, he hoped that the feeling would suffice.

Wendy pulled his head down toward hers, smiling and whispering, "I love you, too, Peter," and then pressed her lips to his, her mouth tasting like starshine upon his tongue. Peter kissed her gladly, with great relief, with anticipation, with love. His heart ached within him, feeling almost as if it were speaking to hers without words, speaking to her heart and telling her of the depth of his feelings, feelings he could not express aloud. And indeed, Wendy knew, though she knew not how. She knew that Peter loved her. And that was the one thing that mattered.

And so, with that kiss, Wendy chose Peter for her husband, proper money or no.

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Author's End Note: Okay, yeah, still no smut. Two chapters in a row, with no sex! But next chapter will be smut-o-rama. I promise. :)
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- 11
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Awakenings