#ask peter #

It was such a strange feeling, dancing, usually when he did it was in the company of an entire tribe under the moon, or in victory after a game. Not while being touched. Not with a girl. Was it normal? He d seen the faeries doing it before but they were different: when he saw them there was something very natural, beautiful. Most importantly, when they did so it seemed very grown up. Did that mean that by doing this he was acting like a grown up?

For the first time he could remember, though his memory wasn t known to be the best, he was noticing something different about Wendy. She was supposed to be his mother though, wasn t she? That s what he wanted right? Suddenly the thought of sitting still with her or aging alongside her sprung to the front of his thoughts and he knew that he had to stop it before it went too far. That wasn t him, that wasn t who he was or what he wanted to be. Maybe it was some type of trap, or maybe she was only doing this so that she could best him in some way.

Whatever game this was, he wasn t sure if he liked it. But he couldn t deny the way he enjoyed the warmth of her fingers laced with his, or the way the lights of the faeries around them bounced off of her curls, her cheeks. Were her eyes always that pretty? How hadn t he ever noticed it before? His fingers tightened around hers and he swallowed down, voice growing uncharacteristically quiet,

Wendy? This is all just a game, isn t it? None of this really means anything right? It s just another game of pretend.

His eyebrows rose, hopeful that she d reassure him that yes, of course it was a game. Of course they weren t being serious. Of course she didn t think of him as anything other than one of her boys. This wasn t what mothers were supposed to be like. Even though his own had forgotten about him and he d never been able to spend any real time with her, he was certain that the thoughts he was having weren t those of a loving son.

Maybe it d be better if they stopped. He couldn t afford to be weak, and if there was one thing for certain about how all of this made him feel, it was vulnerable. Him, vulnerable? Of course not. He was strong, he was able; he didn t have time for soft touches and dancing.

Wendy s smile slowly faltered after hearing Peter s words, and her heart, heavy with sadness and disappointment, sank into her stomach, killing all the butterflies in it which not too long ago were just dancing happily with the two of them. She looked down as her chest tightened. He shouldn t have asked. Funny how one of the brightest, most beautiful moments of her life could turn into black in one blink of an eye.

Oh. Yes, Peter, she muttered, the words leaving a bitter taste on her tongue. The disappointment was evident in her face and in her voice, completely betraying her lying mouth. Her heart could never lie though. The warm and fuzzy feeling inside, the banging of her heart against her ribcage, the butterflies which had been trying to rip her stomach apart, proved Wendy that it wasn t just another game of pretend for her, and it did mean something to her, and though Wendy s answer was obviously untrue, she still hoped that Peter would believe her, with a tiny part of her also hoping for some reason that he wouldn t, that he would notice her disappointment.

Did he really think everything between them was just pretend? It was her fault she was disappointed. She shouldn t have taken everything so seriously. Whatever she was feeling for him it was serious, and she was sure it was a grown up thing. Was it love? Was it even possible to fall in love all too fast? She should have done better in hiding her feelings, since Peter must have noticed it, which was probably why he asked her that, to remind her that everything was just pretend. Wendy let Peter take her to Neverland for the adventures, the flying, the mermaids, the fun, and to forget about grown up things. She shouldn t have expected something as serious as this from a boy whose fear was growing up.

What are you feeling, Peter? she asked as her eyes met his beautiful pair once again, with a little bit of hope left inside her. She wanted to know the truth about how Peter really felt about everything. About her.

The tightness in his chest eased. Of course it wasn t real, Wendy had just said so. It really must have all been in his imagination. After all, how could anyone in their right mind ever think he d want something so strange, foreign, so adult. Suddenly the dance seemed much easier, he wanted to spin, wanted to spin her with him, but she kept speaking and he did his best to keep perfect attention on her. But that question, feelings? What types of feelings? His chest started to feel tight again.

What was he supposed to say to that? Why did she want to talk about things like this, always serious things? Did that mean that she wasn t having any fun here anymore? That meant he d just have to try harder, he was the best at coming up with games so of course it should fall to him. Besides, if she stopped having fun then she might try and go home and that was something he wasn t going to let happen. She was supposed to stay here, take care of all of them, tell them stories and fight and all sorts of other things that mothers did.

His eyebrows furrowed, but he couldn t come up with a silly enough response to keep the mood from growing somber. All of it made him remember when she s said he should be the father, but that was all a game. There was no way she really expected him to be still all the time, to come up with rules and new forms of discipline. Fathers were the fun ones weren t there? To be honest he knew even less about them than he did about mothers, though he d never admit it.

What am I feeling? His fingers let go of hers, his hand left her waist and he hovered back a few inches from her, fighting the urge to sink down towards the ground. Too serious, all of it was too serious.

It was time to set things the way they were supposed to be before it all got out of hand. He tried his best to smile wide but it faltered at the edges, Well, the feelings of a devoted son Wendy. I m much better at that than pretending to be the father. It d put me so old to be the father wouldn t it?

Maybe it d be better if someone else tried playing the father for a while. John was bossy enough that it could have been him, but he didn t like the idea of him doing a better job at it than himself. It might be better to have one of the other boys do it, and if he told them to then they d have to listen. Then Wendy would be happy and have what she wanted then things could go back to the way they were supposed to be.

Despite it being his wish, he turned his eyes away from hers, feeling guilty. Guilty. That was a new one, something he wasn t used to. But why should he feel guilty? He wasn t doing anything wrong, and it was all just a game in the end. Wasn t it?