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By Hook or By Crook	By : OktoberBlack Category: M through R > Peter Pan > Het Views: 14973 -:- 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
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The characters created by J. M. Barrie are not mine; I don’t own them and I’m not making any money off of them. The characters that were not created by J. M. Barrie in this fic *are* mine, and I do own them—but I’m still not making any money off of them. Figures.

Again, it’s taken me a long time to get back to this story and I apologize. In the meantime, I’ve written a complete Criminal Minds Fanfic called The Long, Lonely Road Ahead and it can be found in the TV section (under Criminal Minds, of course), if anyone is interested. I quite like it, but it’s a different kind of story than this one, that’s for sure. In the meantime, I’m hoping to finish this up in the next while, because not only do I have the time, but I think I finally know what I want to do here. I hope it works! (fingers crossed)

By Hook or By Crook (for want of a better name)

Chapter Twenty-Six: Not Much of a Proposal

Hook didn’t return until it was morning. He stumbled into my room, obviously drunk out of his mind, his hat askew and the morning light pouring in from the living room through the bedroom’s open door.
“Cassandra! Wakey, wakey…” He struggled with his coat, trying to undo the buttons with both hook and hand. “Can’t get this damn thing… Cassandra! Wake up, dammit, and help with this,” he demanded. I’d awakened the moment he’d burst into the suite; he’d been singing “Yo Ho Ho” at the top of his lungs when he’d crashed into my door. Now I was sitting up in bed, wondering what was going to happen next. “Help me with the buttons.” His voice had changed from demanding to pleading, and I sighed.
“Of course, James,” I said, sliding to the side of the bed. “Stop trying to undo them, you’ll rip your coat… Just stop!” I slapped his hand away from the buttons on his coat, and he scowled at me as I undid them.
“Do you know who I am, woman? I am Captain James Hook! The scourge of the seven seas! Nemesis to Peter Pan!” He squinted at me as I undid the last of his buttons. “But you don’t care, do you? Noooo, not you.” He shrugged out of his coat and threw it on the armchair in the corner of the room. “Help me with my boots.” He sat down heavily on the edge of the bed and I knelt in front of him. “I have done nothing but be the best pirate I can be, but do you care? Do you even acknowledge the work I do? All the hard work that went into your kidnapping? I slaved for two whole weeks on that plan! All those damn fairies and their dust…” I grasped his right boot and pulled until it slid off his foot, knocking me on my ass in the process. “Ah, that’s better.” I repeated the process with his left foot, and he sat there, wiggling his now free toes. “No one understands how much work goes into this job. Do I want to chase after Pan all the time? I ask you, is that the job for a pirate like me? For a grown man? To chase after a flying boy, for Lucifer’s sake?” He scratched his chest and yawned widely. “It’s exhausting, that’s what it is. Exhausting…” He yawned again and then slid sideways, snoring as soon as his head hit my pillow.

I sighed again and put his boots beside his coat. Then I sat on the floor, as far as my chain would allow, and considered myself lucky—for the moment.

Hook slept for most of the day. I was stuck, chained to the bed, so I used the chamber pot when I needed to, slept on the floor when I could, and mostly just waited. I was waiting to see what would happen when he woke up. I was waiting to see if Smee might come in so I could get a drink of water or tea. I was waiting, because there was nothing else I could do. I felt crusty and sore; I wanted a bath in the worst way. And I felt weak because I’d had nothing to eat since sometime yesterday afternoon. Meanwhile, Hook snored. He hadn’t removed his hook, and it was stuck in the bed frame. He seemed to struggle with it a bit while he slept, but it didn’t wake him up.

It wasn’t until the sun was finally sinking in the west that Smee peeked around the door to see if Hook was in my room.
“Thank God,” I whispered as Hook’s snoring filled the room. “Smee!”
“Shhhh… we don’t want to wake him,” Smee whispered back. “How long has he been sleeping?”
“Since he came in this morning,” I hissed back. “Can I please get something to drink?”
“Certainly, Miss,” Smee said, tiptoeing out. He came back again in a few minutes with a mug of water, which I downed in seconds flat. My head was pounding and I felt just dreadful, but the water went down so very well.
“More?” I whispered. Hook snorted suddenly and sat up with a start; he wrenched his hook out of the bed frame violently, taking a chunk of the wood with him.
“Smee! Where’s Pan?!” he demanded, reaching for his sword. “Where’s my sword, dammit?!” He stopped for a second and then realized where he was. “Oh. Is it still day outside?”
“No, Sir, it’s just a little after sunset,” Smee said, bustling about the room for Hook’s boots and coat. “I’ve taken the liberty of ordering supper for you, Captain.”
“Well done, Mr. Smee,” Hook said, heading out of the bedroom in his stocking feet. “Draw a bath for the wench, will you? She can bathe while supper is set up.”
“Very good, Captain,” Smee said, and he walked out of the bedroom to comply.

I was both appalled at being treated so casually and grateful he didn’t feel like beating or raping me just then. And I was going to get a bath! I sat on the edge of the bed, my chain in my hand, waiting for Smee to come back for me. I could hear them in the other rooms, could see people moving around on the other side of the open bedroom door, but I had no idea what was happening. A part of me realized that one of the worst parts of this whole being captive thing was being so completely out of control of what happened to me. I had no say in anything, no matter how Hook pretended to give me choices sometimes. Whatever he said was what happened and I hated it. I hated it! I hated being his victim. And yet… there was something so compelling about him, about the way he took such complete control over every circumstance, every detail…

“Bath time, Miss,” Smee said, as he came in and undid my ankle fetter. I rubbed at the bruised skin and then stumbled to follow him to the bathroom. “In you get,” he said. I noticed he refused to look at me and smiled inwardly at that.
“Last time, Smee, you pretended I was wearing a gown,” I said to him as I climbed into the steaming water. “Oh, God that feels so good!” I exclaimed as the water flowed up to my neck. “Why won’t you do that now?”
“Well, you can’t be wearing a gown if you’re taking a bath now, can you?” he said, his back turned towards me. “But I won’t look, Miss. And when you get out and are all dried off, I’ll just go back to pretending you with a gown on, and that’ll be okay then, right?”
“I guess that makes sense,” I said, reaching for the soap. I took my time, washing myself gently and soaking my sore body in the hot water, until we both heard Hook roar from the other room.
“What’s taking so damn long, by Lucifer? Have ye drowned, you stupid woman?”

Smee looked at me and shrugged. I sighed and finished washing my hair, ducking under the water to rinse off one last time. When I rose from the bath, Smee, his eyes averted, handed me a towel. I dried off while Smee drained the tub. In a few minutes, I was clean and dry, my hair combed back, and Smee was once again putting the fetter on my ankle, leading me into the living room.

The table was laid for supper and Hook was already drinking wine from his nautilus cup.
“You may sit and eat, my dear,” he said, gesturing to the only other seat at the table across from him. Smee attached my fetter and chain to the wall, and I sat. I was so incredibly hungry by that point that I didn’t even use my fork and knife—I just grabbed whatever was nearest and began shoving it in my mouth. Hook laughed at me over his cup and I paused, a chicken leg halfway to my mouth, gravy dripping on to the tablecloth. “Lovely table manners my dear. We’ll make you a pirate yet!” He gestured to the rest of the food. “Don’t let me stop you, please. And while you eat, let me tell you all about the little plan I’ve come up with while I was waiting for you.”
“Plan?” I said indistinctly, my mouth now full of chicken. This may all be fictional, but geez it tasted good!
“Plan, yes,” he said. He speared a sausage with his knife and took a healthy bite out of it. “I’ve decided that I would prefer you to be not just my captive. Having you as my slave is, of course, excellent fun, but it’s not enough.” He finished the sausage and took up a bunch of grapes. He plucked a grape from its stem and considered it. “No, it’s not enough at all. I want more.” He popped the grape into his mouth and crunched down on it. “I want it all.”
“Uh… what do you mean?” I asked, putting down the remains of my chicken leg. Suddenly I felt sick with dread.
“I’ve decided,” he said, leaning forward across the table, a terrible smirk on his face, “that I want you as my wife.”
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By Hook or By Crook