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In the swirl of passion	By : Lywhn Category: M through R > Peter Pan > Het Views: 35043 -:- 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
- 29
- 30
- 31
Chapter 30 – A Difficult Awakening

The first rays of sun were stretching over the horizon as a handful of pirates carefully deposited their commander, his lady and his – formerly – sworn enemy into the captain’s quarters.
All of them had looked too deeply into the rum bottle, and none of them could decide if they were simply tired or just drunk. Somehow, a sniggering Smee managed to open the door to the great cabin and shoved his captain gently inside, while Cecco helped a swaying Wendy over the threshold. Mason carried a nearly unconscious Peter Pan over his shoulder, who mumbled something about an ‘odd way to fly’ and ‘jolly shwaying planksh’.
Smee, the least potted of the group, ordered Cecco to lay Wendy on the bed and Mason to put the boy onto the couch. Then he shooed them out of the cabin and tried to speak with his captain. Uncomprehending, Hook only looked at him and obeyed like a good little boy, as the Irishman ordered him to lift here an arm here and a leg there as he helped him out of his clothes.
Peter and Wendy were already snoring when Smee finally managed to put Hook to bed. He looked at Wendy, and decided to take off her shoes -- he didn’t dare touch any more. After he had opened several windows and took a last look at the three, he departed, seeking out his own bed.

There was an unpleasant taste in Hook’s mouth, and his head ached as though someone was hitting the inside of it with several small hammers. Carefully, he opened his eyes, and closed them immediately, since sunlight filled the cabin and added several more hammers to the ones already active inside his skull.
After a couple of the blacksmiths quit working, he tried again, and took a peek at his surroundings through a sliver of an opening. He saw golden sunbeams shining about him, finally recognizing his cabin. Next, he felt the weight of an arm about his waist and the tickling of breathing on his shoulder. Raising his head – bad idea! – his gaze fell on the lovely innocent face of Wendy, who lay at his side, snuggling close to him even in her sleep. Ignoring the headache, he smiled. Even as hung over as he was, it was worth seeing her beautiful face in the golden sunlight, especially in this relaxed state, which made her appear even younger. The light danced over her walnut-brown hair and bathed her creamy skin in a golden halo.
Carefully turning, he gathered her into his arms and let his gaze wander over her features, so soft and delicate, so childlike and exquisite – it squeezed his heart. He would do anything to hold her close forever. He loved her more than he knew a human heart could love. She was his soul, his other half and—
Wendy shifted and sighed, blinked and sighed again. Smiling, he watched her awakening. She lifted her lips and those captivating blue-grey eyes looked uncomprehendingly at him before she moaned and pressed one hand to her head. “Good morning, sleepyhead,” he murmured and felt the thirst kept at bay until now. An unintelligible torrent of words, spoken in a hoarse voice, was the answer. Despite his own painful condition, he couldn’t help grinning. “Never again tell me that I have to work on my morning-mood!” She only groaned, leaned closer to him and closed her eyes. James had to chuckle. “Hung over, my dear?”
“This all your fault!” she slurred, her first intelligible words.
“My fault?” He struggled to remember the events of last evening, but they were all in a haze, and thinking was really too painful. “Darling, please help me out. WHAT happened yesterday?”
She opened one eye and glared at him. She seemed not to be remembering as well, and mumbled finally. “Don’t know, but it must be your fault, because I’ve never drunk myself into palsy before.”
Hook grinned. “Welcome in the pirate’s world, dearest.”
She grumbled something before she winced. “My stomach… It burns and … and my head… ouch!”
“Aye! I know what you mean.” He took a deep breath and immediately felt sick. “Hell, what was I drinking last night?”
“Too much. And could you two shut up? I’m dying here!”
The voice was neither Wendy’s nor Smee’s. It was far too treble and too … too juvenile! Lifting his head again, Hook peered around his cabin. Could that brat not let him be in peace for just one Godforsaken day? But he couldn’t see the pest of a boy, only a blanket heaped on his settee and—
Just a moment! Blinking to clear his sight, James saw sandy-gold locks between two blankets on the settee, and beneath it a very pale, familiar face with reddened eyes. What the devil--? “Pan! What are YOU doing here?” the pirate-captain exclaimed and sat up, ignoring Wendy’s protest to ‘hold still at least!’
Lifting his own head, the boy glanced blearily at his unwilling host, then closed his eyes with a miserable moan while he curled himself into a ball. Never before in his whole extended life had Peter felt this awful. His head threatened to explode while all of his insides cramped in a sour knot. He was thirsty, more than anything else, but the mere thought of drinking anything made him nauseous. He yearned for the warm, fresh air now streaming through the open windows, but at the same time, he was cold and started to tremble so much that his teeth clattered. With a shaking hand, he pulled one blanket closer around him, but it didn’t help. And then that constant swaying—he felt even worse. “Can’t you stop this tub from moving?” he groaned, and pulled his knees up to his chest, which helped him feel warmer, but was not good for his protesting stomach.
Wendy had fully awoken by the sound of Peter’s voice and had turned over. She looked at her friend and cleared her dry throat. “Peter?”
He opened his eyes again and glanced at her, his expression so distressed that it woke her full pity. She shoved the blanket away and swung her feet to the deck, discovering that she still wore her dress. “Come back,” James protested. “It’s cold!”
“Don’t bellyache at me!” Wendy grumbled and stood up, wrapping her arms around her. The temperature really seemed cold, and she felt unsteady, but still, she walked over to the boy and knelt down beside the settee. “Peter,” she whispered and stroked his hair.
He glanced up at her and whimpered: “It hurts so much!”
”What?” she asked gently.
“My… my head and… and my stomach!” She saw the unshed tears in his eyes and pulled him into her arms, soothing him as a mother would, without recognizing it. “Try to sleep, Peter. It will go away more quickly, if you sleep.”
“I can’t,” he said in a tearful, lachrymose tone, muffled against her shoulder.
Hook watched the two of them and growled, “Get a grip, boy. Everyone survives his first hangover! – In your case, this is regrettable!” he added.
Wendy shot him a glare, ignoring the increased pounding in her head. “If you would have kept an eye on him, he wouldn’t be in this state now!”
“He isn’t my responsibility!” James growled and lay back, glad that the dizziness had decreased when he did so.
The girl shook her head. “He’s just a boy and you are a grown-up man. Of course he’s your responsibility – at least as your guest!”
The pirate-captain closed his eyes. “I warned him and he didn’t listen. And, by the way, this insolent rascal is NOT my responsibility. He’s lucky he’s still alive and that I don’t kill him on sight!” He looked up into her piercing gaze, and sighed. “All right, all right, I know. I can’t kill him anymore, even if I want to!” Still, her look was hard, and James grimaced. “Come on, kitten, you know I loathe him.”
“It certainly didn’t look it last night, as you two played cards, drinking and singing together.” She lifted her brow in a challenge. “In vino veritas!”
Hook made an indefinable sound and took a deep breath; deciding to let the whole argument alone. He really didn’t know what had come over him last night. “Come back to bed, Wendy. You can’t help him, in any case.”
Wendy pressed her lips together, reminding him why she had been angry with him in the first place – and still was. “You’re heartless!”
“And you’re the most impressionable woman I’ve ever met. And now come back to bed!”
Wendy pillowed the suffering boy into the blankets and gently stroked his hair before she stood up and glanced at James. “I don’t take orders from you. I thought you knew this by now!”
Hook shrugged and snuggled deeper. “Fine. Stay awake and catch cold.” As he heard her gasp, he opened one eye and peeked in her direction. He saw her pouting, irritated face and the shivering of her body – obviously from the hangover – covered by a completely crumpled dress. Sighing deeply, he threw back his blanket and stood up. “You’re more stubborn than a mule!” he fumed as he strode toward her, turned her around and opened the dress.
“James! We are not alone!” she protested, but he didn’t listen while he pulled down the dress and the camisole. Turning a deep red Wendy covered her chest and gasped, as Peter looked up.
“That was really nice of him, for a change,” he mumbled. “It must be uncomfortable sleeping in something like that.”
“Turn around!” she ordered sharply, and, closing his eyes, the boy obeyed.
“You’re really peculiar when it comes to wearing no clothes!” he mumbled from under the blanket.
James had to chuckle and brought his mouth near her ear. “Don’t forget, my sweet little one, he is completely innocent!”
“And should remain that way!” she retorted, and stepped out of the dress. She expelled a quiet sigh, because her clothes had really become uncomfortable. She took the dress from James with a soft “Thank you,” hung it over the Spanish wall, pulled off her stockings and the rest of her underwear, and went to one of the lockers and took out one of the nightgowns. She met Hook’s pouting gaze as she slipped into the white silk, giving him a sunny smile, despite her headache, and returned to bed.
“Why do you bother with this unnecessary peace of --?” he started to protest, but she interrupted him.
“First, James, we have a guest, and second, to cure your hang-over by sleeping. Maybe you’ll think twice before you’ll get drunk the next time!” Swearing under his breath James lay down beside her and wrapped his arms around her. She relaxed as she felt his whole body enveloping hers and chasing the cold away. “All right, you pirate! But don’t think that I let you get away that easily from the argument you started yesterday!”
He snuggled his face into her soft hair and mumbled, “I’m sorry, my dear.” He took a deep breath. “Just let me hold you.”
She glanced over her shoulder and met his eyes. Heavens, this mighty, powerful man looked like a little lost boy, and it warmed her heart once again. She turned around and took him into her arms. “Arrogant, proud, absurd buccaneer! I should give you the cold shoulder for your behavior.”
He slipped one leg over hers. “I didn’t mean to insult you, kitten.”
“Yes, but you did when you chose your bet over my work, and then tried to win by cheating.”
It was almost unbelievable, but he really looked guilty, while he stole a kiss from her. “Sorry, my beauty. Can you forgive me?”
She met his forget-me-not-blue eyes and made a face. “Yes. But don’t ever try something like that again!”
He kissed her again, whispering a “Promise!” before his lips sealed hers. Ever so gently he massaged her lips open and slipped his tongue into her willing mouth, eliciting a low moan from her, as she returned his kiss with rising passion. Dear angels in Heaven, but would she ever be able to resist his sensual attacks? She felt the familiar -- but every time new—and thrilling knot in her belly growing, while her nipples hardened. A shiver ran down her spine and without thinking, her arms wrapped around his waist; her fingers stroking his smooth skin and the hard muscles beneath.
Suddenly, she heard a movement from the settee, and remembered that they weren’t alone. Ever so gently she pushed at James’ shoulder to end the kiss and murmured, “We still have a guest.”
James lifted his head and looked over to the boy. “He sleeps.”
Wendy frowned. “I don’t think so,” she whispered and winked at him, almost conspiratorial, before she said louder. “Not bad for someone who pretends to be man by getting drunk.”
“I would NEVER pretend to be a MAN!” came instantly the outburst, followed by a moaned, “Ouch!”
This time both adults looked over to the unhappy boy and laughed, but stopped, as both headaches pounded. “Sleep, Peter!” Hook smirked. “It will be better tomorrow. I give you my word!”
Wendy pulled his head down again. “And the same for you, ‘darling’.”
Pouting he obeyed, but not without pinching her sweet bottom. “James!” she shrieked, and this time, both males chuckled before they settled into the blankets and slowly drifted off.
Watching them, the girl sighed. On a normal day, she would arise to attend to the galley. It must be the early afternoon, if she read the position of the sun correctly, but it was unusually quiet outside their cabin, and she remembered that the crew had drunk a lot, too. So she could rest a few more hours before she had to fulfill her new duties again.

Peter awoke the second time, and didn’t know where he was at first. Disoriented, he blinked up at the dark ceiling above him, which appeared to be wooden. Fresh air was in his nostrils and he felt the need to soar, even as he could feel the soft woolen blankets around him. Familiar noises were about, and as he lifted his head, dizziness overpowered him. Groaning, he sank back and rubbed his eyes. He had a pounding headache, and his stomach seemed to have turned upside down, while his mouth was dry as sand. What – Had -- Happened? He heard another noise; this time reminding him of the purring of a great cat – or its growling. How did a great jungle-cat get in the hideout and why was there so much fresh air?
Deciding that he had to open his eyes again, he carefully sat up and then realized – finally – where he was. On the Jolly Roger. In Hook’s cabin. On his settee. Wrapped in two blankets and with a nice soft pillow. It was several more moments before the truth finally sank in, but to his own surprise, the shock didn’t come. Here he was, in the quarters of his sworn enemy, obviously weakened, and he wasn’t afraid. Why? He grimaced. Of course he wasn’t! He, Peter Pan, was never afraid; especially not of the old codfish, who…
Where was the old man, by the way? Hearing the odd noise again, the boy glanced around him and saw the man lying face down in his bed, snoring. One long leg was out of the blanket, his arms spread out and the mass of his curly mane spilled over the pillows.
Peter frowned. How had it come to pass that they both lay here and slept peacefully, in the same room? Why WAS he here??? At last he felt his thirst, and even though it seemed impossible to stand up, he had to. Over there, at the great dining-table, stood a carafe with water from the night before, and if he didn’t get something to drink very soon, he would simply die – so he thought.
He carefully swung his legs to the floor, and attempted to stand. Finally – after several futile tries – Peter was upright, wincing as his legs protested and the whole cabin seemed to whirl around him. (He was glad Hook wasn’t awake nor the Lost Boys were around to see THAT.)
Gadzooks, had Hook tried to poison him? If not, why was he in such a condition?
Fixing his concentration on the table in the lessening light – it must be evening by now, if he read the position of the sun correctly -- he made his first uneasy steps and swore as the swaying of the ship made it more difficult for him to move properly. Finally, after half an eternity (it seemed), he reached the table and took the carafe. He didn’t even bother to use a glass – they all were dirty anyway – he set the elegant canister to his lips and started to drink. The first sips tasted horrible, and, as the water reached his stomach, it started to turn, but his thirst was too strong. Emptying almost the whole carafe, he let himself drop into one of the chairs, finally seeing the disorder on the table.
It looked as if a cannonball had landed there. Then he saw an empty bottle, only a finger of brown fluid remaining, and with that, his memory returned. Groaning, Peter folded his arms on the table and laid his head on them, closing his eyes. By all the pearls of the Seven Seas, was he miserable! Never before he had such a nausea and, and, and -- and then he felt the contents of his stomach threatening to show themselves. Looking frantically around, he saw the Spanish wall and remembered that there were dishes. With a speed he wouldn’t have thought he could muster in this state, he ran over to the separate area of the cabin and reached a pot just in time, as his stomach decided that, thirsty or not, it didn’t like all that water just at the moment.

Odd noises pierced Hook’s dreamless sleep and finally reached his conscious thought. Someone was being sick, violently. Disgusted, he buried his head into the pillow beneath his face and sighed, until he realized that this ‘someone’ was in his cabin. Why was someone throwing up in his quarters and who --? Lazily, he groped for the girl beside him, but he didn’t feel the warm body he sought. Suddenly fully awake, Hook rolled on his back and sat up, searching the darkened cabin with growing worry. “Wendy?” he called, alarmed, swinging his legs out of the bed. “Wendy, aren’t you well?” ‘You’re a fool, James!’ he thought as he stood up. ‘Of course she isn’t well when she’s vomiting like this!’ Steadying himself at the bed – hell, he still had a nasty hangover! – he stepped unsteadily over to the Spanish wall. “Hold on, my heart, I am almost there!” – Of course she would hold on! Nobody died because of nausea! He really sounded like a poof! But when he finally reached the Spanish wall (were they in the middle of a storm? or why was the ship swaying like this?) he peered around. He didn’t believe his own eyes when he saw the picture of misery, clad in leafy garments, cowering in front of the tube and embracing a bowl.
With teary eyes, the eternal boy looked up at him and whispered a helpless “It doesn’t stop!”
It took several seconds before the reality of the scene before him finally sank into Hook’s mind, then the memories came back and he sighed heavily. Peter had dark circles under his eyes and his face was ash grey. He trembled and looked at him with such pleading helplessness that – very much against his will -- the pirate-captain felt a bolt of pity in his heart. “Stand up, boy, and go back to sleep. It will help.”
Surprised at how gentle Hook’s voice sounded, Peter blinked and took a deep breath. Almost instantly, he felt his stomach prepare to empty again, and hastily bent over the bowl.
James groaned, and went to open the windows as wide as possible to disperse the unpleasant smell. When the clear evening air hit his unprotected body he recognized that he was bare as a newborn, but he didn’t care at the moment. After all, they both were males, and the boy had grown up in the wildness of a tropical island without society’s rules. “You know, your first hangover is always the worst of all,” he said and then clamped his mouth shut when he realized that he was indeed COMFORTING this irritating little brat. Alas, he really had turned into a softie – who even now fetched one of the blankets from the settee to give the boy some additional warmth, as he realized, standing again in front of Peter.
“You said that it would go away after I slept,” the leader of the Lost Boys moaned, and James had to smirk.
“Yes, after A LOT of sleep.” He nodded to the bowl. “Put that aside and stand up.” Peter did as he was ordered, but had difficulties to let his legs working. Sighing, James put the blanket over his right arm, bent down and pulled Peter to his feet. “Stay straight and get a grip, boy!” He wrapped the blanket around the small body. “Go to the window and get some fresh air. Keep your eyes on the horizon! When the sickness weakens, then lie back on the settee and try to sleep!” He saw the amazed and almost grateful eyes upon him, and felt a sudden uneasiness. “What?” he snapped.
The start of a smile played around Peter’s lips. “Thank you, Hook,” he murmured and went uncertainly to the window.
Grumbling, Hook went to his locker and took out a pair of his breeches, slipping into them and a shirt “Stay here!” he ordered. “I’ll try to find our lady with the sharp claws and Smee. If you get sick again, try to reach the bowl in time. I don’t want to have you spewing on my carpets, or it will be the last thing you do, boy!” He didn’t await an answer and he didn’t get one. Stepping out of his cabin, he was greeted by a haggard Billy Jukes, who had the watch, and then by several other crewmembers on deck, obviously fagged as he.
James’ feet touched the wood of the planks and finally he realized that he was still barefoot. He had even forgotten to put his hook on. Cursing under his breath – he had never been that careless before – he walked carefully to the stair and looked around him. “Where’s Smee?” he asked Albino, who was trying to get to his feet to address him correctly.
He pointed down to the companionway. “He helps Miss Wendy, Sir.”
Grumbling something that sounded like “And who helps me?” he went down to the galley. This time there was no smell of roasting meat in the air, but a fresh one he simply couldn’t define. Not bothering with knocking – after all it was HIS ship, dammit! – he entered the galley and looked into two startled faces.
Wendy smiled when she saw him and laid her knife and the bread she was cutting into slabs aside. “You’re awake!” she cried, and ran to him and threw her arms around his neck.
Taken aback, James wrapped his arms around his girl, and as he felt her soft lips on his unshaved cheek, his condition improved significantly. Burying his face at her throat, he took a deep breath – she smelled like roses, as ever – and pressed her closer to him. He felt her arms tighten around him and sighed. Never again he would provoke such anger from his sweet angel! He didn’t want to admit it, but he had felt terrible. He needed her admiration and love like a flower needed the sun, and her nearness like the air to breath. “You weren’t there when I woke up,” he complained in a whisper.
“You were sound asleep, and I didn’t want to disturb you,” Wendy answered gently and stroked his back.
“How are you?” he asked and she giggled.
“Still hanging over a cliff without any fairy-dust or rope and ready to fall down into the cold, dark, dangerous sea!” Her voice was dark and mysterious, and James had to chuckle.
“Sounds like a very good beginning of a story, sweet storyteller!”
Laughing, Wendy disengaged from his embrace and looked up at him. “And you? What does your hangover say?”
He smirked: “Oh, it says: ‘Throw the beautiful little wench over your shoulder, carry her off into your cabin, lock the door and take her in every way possible for scolding you and leaving you alone!’”
Blushing, she slapped his shoulder. “James! We aren’t alone!”
Frowning Hook looked up and his cheeks turned pink as he saw in the grinning bearded face of his boatswain. “No problem, Cap’n, I’ve been young myself!”
“What are YOU doing here?” he asked with some irritation.
A voice in his back slurred: “’elping t’e Miss, Cap’n, as Albino told ye, Sir!” Cecco stepped into the galley. “Sorry, Ma’am, but--"
Wendy saw James’ perplex face and had to laugh again. “Still not quite back all the way, are you, love?”
Hook growled and shot a dark glare at the tall black-skinned buccaneer. “A little more respect, Mr. Cecco!” Before the man could protest – he didn’t mean any disrespect – Wendy cut in.
“What do you need, Mr. Cecco? Dinner will be ready soon.”

“Please, some tea, Miss. Some of us‘re still awful sick.”
Wendy grimaced. “You know that it’s your own fault?”
The gunman nodded. “Aye, Mum, but what can we do? We’re pirates, after all.”
“So bear it like a pirate: With strength and pride.” She sighed and waved to the stove. “Help yourself to the hot water. There must be some left in the kettle. Tea is over there.” She pointed to one of the shelves. “One little spoon per cup, the rest is up to you.”
Cecco smiled with relief. “T’ank ye, Miss Wendy.”
Recognizing James’ dark glare, she took his hand. “Come with me, sweetheart,” she smiled and pulled him along with her. “Some fresh air and peace at the bow is exactly what you need just right now!”
“Um, Miss?” Smee cleared his throat. “Should I continue making dinner?”
Wendy gave him a brilliant smile. “Thank you, Mr. Smee. Not too many open sandwiches. The men are still to groggy to eat heavy food.”
“And afterwards, look in on the boy before all of my washing-bowls are full with that… mess!”
Alarmed Wendy looked up. “What’s wrong with Peter?”
“He is a bit sick and—well, you know!”
The girl paled and turned to leave the galley. “Oh God, the poor boy!”
James’ hand gripped her wrist, tugging her into his arms. “This is where you belong, my dear! Let the little churl suffer. It’s his own f—“ He saw her narrowing her eyes, and hastily corrected himself: “It’s a good way for him to learn to never touch a bottle rum again.” He pulled her even closer to him. “You should be more worried about your captain.”
Wendy bit her lips. “Should I?” she asked with a hidden smirk.
“Of course!”
The girl started to giggle. “You are the most arrogant –“
His lips closed over hers and cut off her words. At first, she made vague attempts to free herself, then she gave in with a sigh and her body melted in his. Two male voices cleared their throats and James let her go, shooting a dark glare at the other men.
Cecco simply ignored him – he still was too hazy to notice, which he normally did even better than his comrades. Smee blinked through his spectacles and got the cue. “Uh… May I look after the boy?”
Wendy gave him one of her grateful smiles. “That would be nice, Mr. Smee. And please take some tea with you.”
“So he can puke it all over my carpets? There is nothing remaining in his belly at the moment!” James protested.
“Uh… Sir… I’m not sick, but thanks for your concern!” Smee mumbled.
Hook shot him a daggered look. “Fool! I meant that flying pest!”
The Irishman grimaced. “From ‘Bryan’ and ‘ol’ friend’ back to ‘fool’, I see!” he grumbled and left the galley.
Uncomprehending, James watched him leave, and felt Wendy’s elbow in his waist. “That wasn’t very well mannered!” she scolded gently. “Smee took us to bed, and took care of the crew all day, mostly by himself. He even helped me with the dinner and – incidentally – you called him ‘Bryan’ yesterday and it really made him happy. Why not now?”
Having the grace to be even a little embarrassed, Hook looked down, and took a deep breath. “He is my boatswain, after all, and—“
“And your best friend! Why deny it?”
Behind him, Cecco clacked about with the kettle and the cups and the pirate-captain really didn’t want to discuss something like that in front of him. “Come with me, sweetheart,” he ordered and pulled her after him out of the galley.
“Hey!” she called. “Why the rush?” As he didn’t answer, but continued to pull her behind him, she gripped his wrist and stopped abruptly. “What’s the matter?”
He threw a glance over his shoulder. “I don’t want him to hear everything we have to say!”
She cocked her head. “You didn’t mind when you kissed me in front of him and Smee.” Batting her eyelashes, she smiled: “Or do you have … more… in mind?”
Groaning, James looked at seduction personified before of him. “How does it happen that you are so… so vibrant, even with a hang-over?”
Wendy moistened her lips, feeling once again the urge to throw herself into his arms and to find a secret and lonely place to experience his carnal delights again. “First, my hangover isn’t that bad anymore; after all I didn’t drink myself into unconsciousness. Second, someone around here has to be in a good mood. And third: I--”
“And third, if you’re this lively, you can kiss your captain.” Closing the distance to her he whispered: “And that’s an order, ship’s cook!”
Wendy bit her crimson lips. “If it’s an order from the commander of the ship, I have to obey,” she murmured back, her eyes fixed on his mouth. Rising to her toes, she planted a kiss on his sensual lips – only to give him a quick peck and to run giggling further into the ship’s belly, away from the companionway and the galley. “Come and get me!” she called challenging and sped off.
“Vixen! I’ll get you for that!” he growled.
“Just try!” she called back, and hastened away as fast as she could, as she heard him directly behind. Reaching the door which led to the second cannon-deck, she opened it and pelted over the darkening deck, only lit by the partly opened cannon-hatches and the grid-hatches over her head. She passed the cannons, which were not more than long dark shadows, and leaned against the mainmast, which had his ‘roots’ deep in the ship. James stopped. “Already tired, little girl?”
“Not in this lifetime!” she laughed out of breath, and as she saw him moving, she stormed further in the direction of the bow. She heard him swearing about “Bloody slow matches”, and “How much dirt is here, anyway?” and had to giggle. “Time for a spring-cleaning, I think!” she called and looked over her shoulder, only to find him a step away from her, quiet in his bare feet. Shrieking she tried to dodge him, but he was quicker.
Snatching his right arm around her waist, he lifted her up and ignored her wild struggling. “Do you have anything to say in your own defense, before I pass judgment upon you for saying nasty things about MY ship?”
“For example, that it needs a good cleaning? Or a good broom, at least?” she snickered.
Shaking his head he sighed: “Wrong answer, my dear. Really the wrong answer.” He moved so quickly that Wendy even couldn’t react. A second later she was pressed against the lowest part of the foremast, while his body trapped hers. “You should have learned in the meantime, my beauty, that I take things about my ship very seriously!” he whispered huskily and Wendy felt the thrilling tension growing in her again – this time too strong to ignore it any longer.
“Then, I think you’ll have to teach me that lesson again. And again.”
He grinned, and pushed his lower body into hers; letting her feeling exactly what he had in mind for this ‘lesson’. “I agree completely, my dear!” He captured her mouth with his and kissed her, as if there would be no tomorrow. Her hands stroked over his back and pawed into the thin material of his shirt, while her foot moved around his leg to pull him even closer. He could feel the quickening of her breathing and hear the soft moan deep in her throat. If he was aroused before, then it was fire that roared now through his veins. It was incredible how easily this girl could inflame this wild desire in him.
Breaking the kiss, he knew that he would be lost if he couldn’t have her just right now. “I think we should go to another place, before I can teach you another lesson, little wildcat!” he whispered at her lips.
Red crept into her cheeks. “James! You know that your cabin is occupied and—"
James grinned. “--and to our great luck, this ship offers many more hiding places!” Before she could think over his words, he threw her over his shoulder and went to the stair that led below deck and the cable-tier.
Ignoring the tiny fists on his back, he continued on his way. “Set me down!” she screamed and closed her eyes, as she got dizzy. “Please, James, I am not completely recovered from last night!”
He only chuckled. “I know a perfect cure for a hangover, my sweet. One we already tested last week and figured out how much it helped. May I remind you again of the sentence: ‘I wanted to spare you more headache’?”
“You ass!” the girl shrieked and hit him more forcefully now. “What do you think I am?”
“You’re my lady, Milady. Or may I call you crabbiness? Or vixen? Or witch? Or wildcat?” He descended the stairs and headed for the storeroom that held the canvas and tools.
“If I am your lady, how dare you handle me like this!”
He grinned widely. “Exactly, kitten.” He entered the storeroom and saw in the dim light the stack of folded canvas, where he let her fall. She cried out, but he could see in her eyes that she wasn’t really angry. Lighting a lamp with one of the matches that were kept beside all the lamps on a ship, he shut the door and shot the bolt. Wendy looked up at him, and with his unshaved face, his simple clothes, bare feet and wild mane, he looked all the more the dangerous pirate that he was. A shiver ran down her spine, more forcefully now, and once more, she felt the indecent part of her – Red-handed Jill – arising.
Lying back on the canvas, she simply looked at him under hooded eyes and moistened her lips; her pose more seductive than ever before. But still there was the underlying innocence he loved so. She seemed not to know what such a gesture did to a man. Kneeling down and bending over her, he steadied himself with his arms beside her head and fixed his gaze on hers in the dim golden glow of the lamp. “You know what you’re asking for, my sweet?”
She swallowed and smiled: “I think so.”
“Minx! You should learn never to provoke a pirate like this!”
She touched his face, his hair, his lips. “And if I like to provoke him – you?”
“Then you will get exactly what you deserve!” he growled in his most dangerous voice.
Wendy only smiled. “I hope so!” she whispered and lifted her head to kiss him.
Those were the last words spoken between them for a long time.

“It’s your own fault! I hope you learned a lesson you will not forget so easily!”
Peter groaned and looked up at the fairy-queen, who soared over him in the air, as though begging her for mercy. Tink sat on the pillow beside him, and watched Smee, who changed the bed-covers. The old boatswain had cleaned the bowl, urged him to lie down again, and then started to distract him with a story of one of the adventures he had been through in a land he called Eire, until the fairies had arrived. And of course the fairy-queen had started to scold him in a way he had always thought a mother would do.
Sighing, Peter closed his eyes and let the torrent of words wash over him, until he had enough. “Oh, stop it! My head is going to explode and my throat burns from being sick, and all you can do is scold?” Tink pressed her little hands on her mouth – how dare he to speak like that to the queen? – But Peter ignored her. “If you have only come to scold, then you can leave!”
The royal creature gaped at him. NEVER before Peter had spoken to her like this. But, she had to admit, never before had she ever grouched at him like now. But, nevertheless, she was the queen of the fairies! She flew down and pulled at his hair, which elicited an “Ouch!” from the boy and a compassionate “Oh, let the poor lad be!” from Smee. Shooting him a dark glare, she gave in and landed beside the eternal boy. “I should let you suffer for the next two days, until you’re able to think again!” She sighed and shook her head. “Close your eyes and lie still! I’ll do the rest!”
Peter did as he was ordered. He would do anything, just to make this terrible feeling go away. Warmth spread suddenly through his body, chasing away the sickness and the headache. The foul taste in mouth vanished, and he could swallow again without thinking he was swallowing knives.
“All done!”
Still tired, but otherwise much better, the boy opened his eyes and smiled at the magical creature above him. “Thank you,” he murmured, and snuggled with a happy smile deeper into the blankets. “Could you help Wendy as well?” he dared to ask and the fairy-queen lifted a brow.
As she and Tink had arrived on the ship, their sensitive hearing had picked up definite noises from the bow, deep in the ship’s belly. “I think Captain Hook is taking care of her for the moment – or vice versa. I’m not sure which, exactly,” she replied archly.
Peter pouted. “Why does she help the old codfish, and not me?”
Tink shook her head, and the fairy-queen said softly, “Because this method only works for grown-ups, and never for children!”
Satisfied with that answer, Peter stretched himself and smiled lazily. “As you say. I think I’ll sleep a little longer, and then leave Hook’s charming hospitality.” He frowned. “He really took care of me, the old man.”
“He isn’t that old, Peter!” the fairy-queen sighed and the boy shrugged.
“Compared to me, he is.”
To that the fairy-queen said nothing, because she knew the truth -- that the boy was far older than the pirate. But she simply smiled at him and pressed a quick kiss to his forehead, sending a tingle of well-being through his youthful, recovering body. “Sleep well, my boy, and then return to the island. This ship is not for you.”
Peter nodded and looked over to Smee, who was working hard to put the table in order. “Good night, Smee.”
The Irishman glanced up and grinned. “Night, buddy!”

TBC…
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In the swirl of passion