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tampered2007-01-10 06:08 am
ironhook.livejournal.com) wrote in tampered2007-01-10 06:08 am
Log: Complete;
When; January 6, before this.
Rating; PG-13
Characters; Peter Pan![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
all_butone & Jas. Hook ironhook
Summary; Pan brought back the Jolly Roger, and Hook fights him for it. But what were the consequences? Is that all they're fighting for?
Log;
Late afternoon and James stepped out of Kitty's apartment, pulling his cigar holder from his pocket. A lighter followed soon after-- some new fangled thing he picked up at one of the stores, silver and shaped like a box-- and with a twitch of his wrist both cigars were lit. He inhaled deeply as he tucked the lighter away again, tilting his chin up to exhale a ring of smoke into the air. The days were getting longer, he noticed. It was strange, having a regular sort of season again. In Neverland, the weather depended mostly on Pan and himself. He couldn't actually remember the last time a chill had lasted so long, save when Pan left Neverland.
The pirate huffed, shook his head and pushed away form Kitty's apartment, not sure where he was going, but needing to move. She was doing better now, anyway, and he didn't feel the need to watch her from the corner of his eye anymore. Though he had laughed at the monster hangover her drinking binge had resulted in. Silly girl.
--
The laughter came easily, a light hearted sound that started as a soft bubbling in his stomach before it made it's way to his lips. Peter was more than pleased with himself, idly walking the length of the ship's deck, still in awe of his newest prize. Even in Neverland, finally declaring ownership of the Jolly Roger had been no easy task, but now that he was in the City, the vessel had fallen more than willingly into his hands. The ulitmate symbol of his victory.
Hook himself had loved the ship, perhaps more than Peter had ever seen the man care for anything- and that alone made it valuable; still...though he was never one to pass up a chance to gloat, that alone hadn't been the reason he sought the ship out. The boy let his eyes slide shut at the thought, savoring the memory for what it was. James had spoken so fondly of having his own ship someday and now...Peter smiled once more, leaning back against the mast- and now he would be able to grant the boy his wish.
--
That crystalline laugh reached James like butterflies on the wind. It didn't matter how far away Pan was, they could be on opposite sides of the planet, he could always hear it, like he had a sixth sense tuned solely to the boy. They were much closer this time, though, as James had already been wandering through the forest when the sound touched his ears. Forget-me-nots narrowed, and at the fork in the worn-down path, he turned right and headed for the beach, his gait a little more brisk then it had been previously.
When he stepped out into the light again, the sudden change from dark to bright obscured his vision, and so at first didn't see the ship or it's sole occupant. Once adjusted, though, he squinted out passed the shore, left hand shielding his eyes-- and promptly went slack-jawed.
It couldn't be.
--
He couldn't quite explain the feeling, though he certainly didn't mind it. It was strange, as most feelings usually knotted up his stomach and all sorts of bad things came out of them- but this one... When James had left, it was as though a heavy weight had dropped into his stomach, crushing his chest and making the whole world seem heavy. But with what Valerie had told him- everything was made bearable. Even after those terrible things Hook had said, it wasn't enough to bring him down. Who would he be, after all, if he couldn't rely on his instincts? Yes, the same instincts that told him it was a lie, the same instincts that insisted the James could not possibly be dead.
But while that burden had lifted, it hadn't vanished entirely...
And yet now, laughing and spinning in lazy circles across the deck of the Jolly Roger, he could feel that long lost sensation of butterflies in his stomach. As though everything inside of him wished to fly everywhere at once.
Simply because he'd gotten the one thing for James that the boy had always wanted.
Surely, if he could get the boy a ship of his own, then they would find a way back to Neverland together.
--
It took James a few long moments to register exactly what he was seeing, but once he had, a delighted smile curled his mouth. The Jolly Roger. His Jolly Roger. Maybe this City wasn't so horrible after all. His ship... what else could he possibly need, now? With a bark of laughter, he pocketed his cigars and lurched into a sprint, red frock flying, black hair lashing. It would be impossible to sail her anywhere with no crew, and she was nearly beached at the moment, but that hardly mattered. She was back.
He splashed into the surf, careless to the fact that it weighed his clothing down, and pressed his left hand to the hull of the warship. James smiled privately and tilted his forehead to the stained timber, fingers curling into a possessive fist. He had everything he needed now, right here in this City. With a chuckle, he turned and curled his hand around the net draped along the side of the boat, quickly scaling up to the main deck.
--
Delirious with joy of his own, Peter remained blissfully oblivious to the splashing only feet away. In truth, worrying about what his nemesis happened to be up to at the given moment was the furthest thing on his mind. Instead, bare, sand dusted feet stepped on a nearby barrel as the boy lifted his body to sit on the edge of the ship, allowing his legs to dangle over the vessel's side. It was a beautiful view, that much was certain, and Peter had to wonder at how he'd never noticed such a thing before. With the ocean's spray occasionally splashing just enough to lick at his toes and the sea-salt winds tangling in his hair- he was finally able to understand in some small degree, what it was about sailing that Hook loved so much.
Peter let go of a small sigh of content, body relaxing to move with the ship's gentle lull. Night would come soon enough, and though he didn't wish to leave the Jolly Roger, the last thing he wanted was to worry Wendy.
--
Peter sat on the opposite side of the ship James climbed, and so when he reached the railing, the first thing he saw passed the masts and barrels and crates was the boy. It was only then that he remembered what had lured him to the seashore again. But he was so delighted with the discovery of his warship that even the sight of his rival perched so quaintly couldn’t sour his mood. If anything, it made everything just that much more perfect—this was the closest thing to normal everything had been since James’ arrival.
Smirking, he climbed quietly onto the deck, and crept across the width of the Jolly Roger with the silence perfected by years of thievery and treachery. At the last moment, just before Pan could have flown away, or reacted, James struck like a cobra. His left arm locked around the boy’s ribs as he pressed up against Pan’s back, hook coming around to poise against the soft skin of throat. This close, his grin could be felt against his rival’s ear as he growled: “Enjoying my ship, boy?”
--
The contact caught him entirely off guard, giving him no time to mask the cry of surprise that left his throat- body jerking instinctively against the arm around his chest, trying to escape the hold. Ironically enough, the man had probably saved his life- or at the very least, his pride, because the surprise attack had left him reeling and Peter was certain that he would have easily lost his balance and fallen; had Hook not been holding him so tightly.
As quickly as he was startled however, the boy recovered, falling into step with their familiar rivalry. The press of cool metal against his throat sent a chill down his spine- Peter glared. "Your ship? Hardly." He was at a disadvantage, he knew. After all, he was unarmed, since his roommate had decided to take his sword in for 'safe keeping'. He had yet to find it.
The thought didn't trouble him and Peter kept his body still. The chances of Hook killing him then and there were small after all- it wouldn't be the victory the man wanted. That much he was sure of.
--
James smirked, lifting his chin just slightly, his unshaven jaw coarse against Peter's skin. The hook tilted just a little, point pressing up under Pan's chin, and though the touch was firm, it wasn't quite enough to draw blood. "It is my ship," He drawled, "Despite any title you may give yourself."
The pirate captain was nearly giddy: this couldn't go more perfectly. Pan unarmed and at his mercy aboard the deck of his Jolly Roger. He could slit his throat then and there-- but where was the fun in that? It went against the rules. Surprise attacks were allowed, but this was a different situation. For all the threatening and cheating he and his rival did, there was still an unspoken procedure to follow. Never before had they strayed from it, and it shouldn't be any different now, despite a change of location.
--
The arrogant comment coupled with their skin to skin contact set him on edge and Peter wished rather desperately for a sword. It was unnerving for him to be so entirely at the pirate's mercy, and as a result, his reply was shorter than usual. "You're not the one who brought it here. I am."
Peter could feel his heart hammering frantically against his chest, pumping liquid fire through his veins and he all but counted the seconds as they ticked by. Hook was too close, distracting him. They'd never been this close before, and the boy couldn't understand why their proximity made it so hard to focus. Any second now, he knew, Hook would pull away and give him a weapon. Any second now the man would let him go, and they would fight, and everything would be normal again.
The contempt was blatent, though Peter made no effort to turn and face the man.
--
The reply was enough to draw James up short, and the smile slid from his face. Now that he thought of it, it was strange that the ship was here. How? Why? Nothing in this place was free. Nothing in life was free, but that truth was doubled in this place. If Pan had brought the ship here, then he must have traded something for it. And that, if nothing else, made Hook suspicious. A chill curled in his belly, something like anxiety, but he studiously ignored it.
Instead, he moved, left arm curling up from Peter's ribs, wrapping over his shoulder in something of a half-nelson, fingers fisting into the boy's golden hair. He tugged to the side, forcing Pan's face to turn towards him, tilting his own to look intensely at the wild child. He hadn't moved away at all, though, and this close, he could feel the boy's breath against the corner of his mouth. "What is that supposed to mean?" He growled, voice low.
--
Under normal circumstances, the tension confused him and Peter would run as far from the cause as possible. Because under normal cicumstances, it was an uncomfortable feeling that knotted up his stomach and made him feel clumsy and awkward. But with a hand gripping tightly in his hair and forcing him to meet startlingly blue eyes- he was reminded somehow of James, and it only fueled his anger.
His typical cocky expression darkened considerably, turning into a defiant glare. How dare Hook try to take the ship away when he'd done nothing to attain it in the first place? How dare he lay claim to the Jolly Roger for his own selfish purposes when Peter himself had wanted it only to give it away? That pirate would not take the ship- it was for James and James alone. The soft puffs of warm breath against his skin were easily fogotten and when he answered, the boy's voice was dangerously low with ringing finality. "It is not your ship anymore."
--
"It has always been my ship," Hook snarled, thrown by the dark defiance, the possessiveness that shadowed the corners of those eyes. That wasn't fair. Pan was changing the rules. It made the impatience, the unease in his middle flare viciously, and uncomfortable with it, the pirate responded in the only way he ever let himself anymore. With a growl, he stepped back and yanked, pulling the boy off of the railing and throwing him to the deck by hair alone.
"And it will always be mine," He snapped, then reached across his body to unsheath the ever-present sword at his hip. But from there, he didn't attack. Bad form, after all. He paused only long enough for Peter to find a weapon and match his stance.
--
A small cry escaped his lips as he hit the ground, momentarily dazed by the impact. Sprawled out across the wooden planks, his hands balled into fists and the boy grit his teeth- more in anger than physical pain. If it was a fight the man wanted, it was a fight he would get- but Peter knew with a certainty he could begin to explain, that he would not lose. Not when the penalty was giving up the Jolly Roger.
"I'm the one who came for it."
He stood slowly, meeting Hook's eyes unflinchingly and holding his gaze for a moment before turning his head to look for a suitable weapon. Any weapon would do- and spotting an unsheathed sword nearby, he went to it, fingers wrapping around the hilt. There was more intensity between them than usual, that much was undeniable, and Peter walked back over, standing before the pirate once more and lifting his chin a fraction- to show that he was ready.
--
"You're the one who stole it," The chin tilt was all he needed, and his scarlet lashed through his eyes like lightening. Like an attack dog released from its chain, Hook lunged, all flashing steel and wicked hook. It wasn't Peter's ship, no matter what he said. It belonged to Jas Hook alone, and he had fought long and hard to get her, to keep her. The only thing that had remained with him through all the years. The only thing he had left of his past. He couldn't let her go: she was his freedom and his prison, and he refused to lose her to a boy.
"Why do you want her so badly?" He snarled, with all the jealousy of a wronged lover.
--
Peter met the attack with equal fervor, relishing the clang of steel as he narrowly dodged his opponent's hook, letting loose a half furious yell as he charged again; their weapons locking. "Because it's for James!" the boy yelled. He'd expected some resistance from the man, he'd expected a battle of sorts, but not one with so much passion. To part of him, Hook's reasoning made sense- that it was something dear to him and he would fight- perhaps until death- to retain it.
But a far louder part argued back, childish and selfish and defiant. He'd beaten Hook in Neverland and been declared Captain. And even now, in the City, it was Peter who'd asked for it, it was Peter who'd made sure the vessel was brought to the ocean- where it belonged. It didn't matter what the man said, he hadn't been willing to take the necessary steps to get the Jolly Roger back; and the boy would not back down. James wanted a ship. The cost meant nothing.
--
Admittedly, the response was not what Jas had expected, and he faltered, reeling away when their weapon-lock broke. It was enough to set him back just a moment, a break in the flurry of falling steel, the two of them circling like wolves readying to pounce. The ship was for James. The thought dried his mouth and clutched like a vice at his heart, because as much as he tried to push that part of himself away, it refused to fade. Nobody had done something so huge for him before, something so selfless, nobody since--
It set off a chain reaction of emotion, each new feeling more confusing then the last, and they were all so tangled together that James couldn’t even begin to try and sort them out while fighting. He hissed, frustrated with himself and with Pan for doing it to him, and charged again.
“You think he can’t find a ship on his own?” The captain asked , loud and bitter over the clash of iron, almost sounding indignant. He wasn’t helpless, after all. Not now, not then. He didn’t need charity.
--
He hadn't suspected the bitterness, nor the play of emotions that passed over Hook's face only moments before. The procession bewildered him. Peter knew the man, perhaps better than he knew himself- and yet the look in his eyes was so unfamiliar, it captured the boy's attention completely.
Emerald eyes widened, pulled from the passion of sword play to furrow his brows, confused by the sudden change of direction. "It isn't about that!" He shook his head, frustrated by the man's inability to understand what seemed perfectly simple to him. Peter whirled once more, striking hard enough to force Hook back again- putting that precious space between them. "It's the only worthy gift I can give him."
--
"And why, why such a grand gift?" Jas barked, turning his sword over and attacking again. He was relentless, something wild in his eyes, a wild animal apprehensive of what lingered on the horizon. "What provoked such generousity?"
The final word was punctuated as his sword came down heavily, hook following suit to lock both blades together. Already James' breath was coming quicker, a mixture of adrenaline and anxietyfearhopewarmthjealousy-- he wasn't actually sure he wanted to know the answer to his question. But it was too late to take back, and there they stood, tangled together in a sharp-edged embrace, static between them as the inquiry hovered in the hair.
--
Peter let loose another yell and braced himself, barely managing to block against the swing. Hook wasn't holding back in the slightest; and for a reason he couldn't quite explain, the ferocity in the man's eyes left butterflies in his stomach. It wasn't fear, that much he knew, because Peter Pan had never been truly afraid of him before. He clenched his teeth, eyes narrowing once more.
If nothing else, the man's ignorance was what sparked his anger. What right did he have, after all, to talk so lightly about James? "Because he wants it!" He fired back, lunging once more. "Because he's important!" Weapons locked once more and Peter's voice was little more than a dangerous whisper- half growled. "Fight all you want. Because it's for him I will. not. lose."
--
Whether it was the look in his eyes, or the tone of his voice, or even just his words-- something stilled the pirate. Scarlet eyes riddled hard into the boy's face, studying his expression, tension lacing his shoulders and his arms as they pushed against each other. He recognized that look, and it made the bottom of his stomach drop alarmingly. With a huff of breath that sounded suspiciously like a gasp, James shoved, and came quickly at Peter, forcing him backwards. This wasn't right, there was something else in the air-- they weren't just arguing over a ship. And their blades were matching more regularly, though James couldn't figure out exactly why that was. But then, he was having trouble focusing on anything but the wild boy in front of him, the look on his face, the way he moved.
"Why?" James snarled again, why wasn't it making sense? The commentary continued, almost desperate to make things normal again: "How is he important, Pan? Do you even know? What makes him so different from your Lost Boys?"
--
“Because I won't let him go! Because he's special to me!" He blurted out, arrogant and defiant and determined to have the final say despite the consequences- despite the honesty of the words. Hook had always had a talent for bringing out the worst in him; for pushing him further than anyone else could possibly push.
And the pirate's latest lunge sent him backwards, nearly knocking him off balance which did nothing but irritate him further. He was tired of being confused, and he was tired of letting Hook have the upper hand. "What does it matter to you anyway?!"
--
James straightened as Peter staggered backwards, and with the distance, the stillness crept up his spine again, leaving a chill in its wake. But this time, it filtered to his face, and he looked, for a moment, as though he had seen a ghost. His blade remained pointed at Pan, but it tilted just a little towards the deck, stricken. It was Wendy all over again, but deeper, more possessive, and it was exactly--
"Mary, Mother of God," He said, hushed, "You love him."
--
Where the murderous intent in Hook's eyes had failed to frighten him before, the man's words struck him like lightening to the core. Like the whole world had suddenly stilled and hung on a razor's edge- ready at a moments notice to come crashing down around him. And yet, with that fear creeping in like frost over him- there was a moment of calm in the stillness. A realization of his own and he was suddenly aware of the weight of the weapon in his hand, the rise and fall of his chest as he breathed, the texture of the ship's deck beneath his bare feet.
It was as if he'd only been dimly aware of the world until that moment- when each detail was made known, and the knot in his stomach eased.
Peter did not change his position, still on edge and ready to strike, but complete calm passed over his face in response. The tension in his shoulders eased, and his indignant glare faded, chin lifting to meet the man's bright blue eyes, holding his gaze evenly. "I won't let you take this ship." Perhaps...not. No perhaps. It was certain now. What the pirate had said had been the truth, and yet it left a wariness in him. After all, he'd cared for Wendy and Hook nearly killed her. What would he try to do to James?
--
No. No, no, no-- he couldn't do that. It messed up everything. It was bad enough that James had ignored his own truths-- something he was good at, now-- but faced with that defiant honesty, that unusually calm expression—he realized the rules didn't matter here anymore. This wasn't the game they had been playing for the past who-knew-how-long. It was shifting and changing and although James noised and teased Pan about growing up, he wasn't sure he was ready for this kind of adventure. Not again. Not after what happened last time. But still-- still he felt a flare of jealousy, because it was the boy James that Peter cared so much about, and not him.
"You can't. You can't," He said, and sounded on the verge of hysterics, lifting the blade but not moving a step, "You don't know what you're talking about. You don't know what you're doing--"
---
The hysterical edge to his voice made him uneasy and once more, he was left without an explaination. This wasn't right, it was all wrong and he was all wrong and Hook was all wrong- and this wasn't the way they were supposed to be. The sound of the man's voice struck a chord in him and Peter squeezed his eyes shut to block it out. It wasn't like their games in Neverland, and the thought troubled him. If Hook was changing like this...then that meant that their Neverland would be changing- and the boy swallowed the lump the rose up in his throat. His voice stayed soft but the feeling of complete confidance was lost.
"You- you don't know what you're doing either."
--
Something snapped inside of the pirate, and before all synapses had finished firing, the sword was clattering to the ground and James was moving. His hook rose, but instead of going for Pan, it connected with the boy's sword, twisting and spinning it from his grasp, sending it to join the other on the deck. It all happened too quickly, and James didn't even realize what had happened until he had Pan face-forward to the mainmast. His left hand was at the boy's wrist, holding it to the wood, right forearm across the smaller one, hook sunk into the wood. The position locked them front-to-back, trapped against the mast. He wasn't exactly sure what prompted the move. A hope, perhaps that if he stopped everything, brought the fight and all of it to a standstill, then nothing would change. They could back up, pretend none of this had ever happened.
But, almost frantically, he realized that the boy had already grown, passed his shoulder now. It was too late to stop the changes. And in that same moment he realized why else this turn of events was so surprising:
The attack shouldn't have worked. Pan should have flown out of the way, as he had done so many times before to avoid being pinned. A stunned silence closed over them, thick and intense.
--
The attack was so fast he hadn't even had time to cry out, much less make a move to defend himself. Equally sudden was the feeling of rough wood against his cheek, the press of Hook's warm body held so firmly against his own- his back arched reflexively, straining against the man. The shock alone kept him still for several seconds, overwhelmed by the rush of sensation, desperately trying to make sense of what had just taken place and how he'd managed to let himself be pinned...
desperately trying to ignore the way their proximity made his skin prickle.
It look a moment longer than it should have, to remember to struggle to escape. Hands clenched and squirming, trying to break out of that grasp. It was distracting, which bothered him because Hook had gotten too good at doing it. It wasn't the first time they'd been so close, and the memory alone made his breath hitch and his eyes squeeze closed to shut it out.
--
James tightened his hold, pressing in when Pan struggled and arched and tried to get away. But he had startled himself just as badly as he had startled Peter, and despite himself, a tremble ran the length of his body. Hook didn't scare easily, but he had quickly lost his footing in this-- this whateveritwas. His stomach was full of fairies beating against his ribs, and though this was unfamiliar ground with Pan, it somehow didn't feel so different. And that, if nothing else, terrified him.
He stilled, flush against Peter's back with his cheek pressed against the soft of his hair. Though Pan couldn't see it, James, too, had closed his eyes, jaw locked with tension. He was absolutely quiet for a long moment before he swallowed against the desert of his mouth, and murmured: "Why won't you fly?"
--
The question hit him like a physical blow and Peter stilled, hands slowly ceasing their struggle to go lax in the man's grip. The closest to surrender that he had ever come. For a long moment, the boy remained silent. Unable to speak, and unwilling to try. He didn't trust himself like this, with the familiar beating of a heart so near and warm breath ghosting over him.
Familiar, and foreign at the same time- and Peter finally stopped trying so hard. Narrow shoulders relaxed and the boy inhaled softly to steady himself. There was a strange sort of comfort in their contact; though he refused to think on it any further. Where there had been shouts and yells and clanging swords, it was as though a wave of calm had passed over them. An end to their fight without victory or defeat- Peter knew in the pit of his stomach that too many lines were getting blurred. "I forgot how." He breathed, an almost murmured confession.
"For him... to get the Jolly Roger. I forgot."
--
James winced, hard, and bowed his head, the black curls of his hair tipping passed his shoulders, dusting Peter's skin. "Brimestone and gall, boy," He muttered, his voice strained but holding none of its usual venom. His left hand curled against Peter's wrist, the flutter of his pulse beneath his skin beating in time with the man’s own. And it was funny, almost, how even now in foreign-but-familiar territory, they remained completely synchronized.
"You went to them for m-- for--" He didn't even know how to articulate what he wanted to say, but this information was like a knife under his ribs, twisting and relentless. Guilt rolled over him, hard, and he swallowed again. Because as much as he denied it, Jas Hook was still James Matthew; it was simply that he hadn't realized someone else could draw that part of him out until now. Hadn’t realized Peter had succeeded in what nobody else had since—
"You shouldn't have," The pirate whispered. He didn't deserve that kind of compassion, "He isn't worth your wings."
--
Peter shook his head. It was a small, absent-minded gesture, but there nonetheless. He suddenly felt very small and all sorts of uncertain; and like all other things he knew without really knowing- Peter could sense that he had stumbled into something far bigger than himself. The tone of the man's voice alone was enough to make the boy want to cry.
He was right to a degree. After all, Peter had loved flying, because it was more than just flying. It was the entire reason he'd run away to begin with, the reason he'd stayed behind when Wendy and the Lost Boys had gone away to grow up. It was his freedom. And Peter had known it for so long, that the ability had become synonymous with who he was. He felt it's loss, and he felt it more profoundly than perhaps anything he'd ever known.
Now...Peter had become just another ordinary boy- and that was what hurt worst of all.
Fingers tightened once more, though this time not in anger, not out of a desire to escape...but instead a search for something solid. Some semblence of security. Dirty fingernails scraped against the mast as his body shuddered.
It did hurt. It pained him in a way he didn't think he could ever fully explain to anyone. And yet, Peter could not deny that he'd made the exchange willingly. He struggled momentarily- to control breathing that threatened to burst into erratic sobs. He'd done it for James, and that would make everything worth it.
When Peter exhaled, the breath was shaky, but his eyes finally opened. Though he was hesitant to trust his vocal chords, the boy struggled with the reply regardless. "You're wrong. He's worth far more than that." It was devoid of the usual accusations, and instead subdued, like something fragile he was trying desperately to protect.
--
James moved, minutely, when he felt the change in the boy's body. His grip on Peter's wrist slacked, palm opening, covering the smaller fist that gripped at nothing. It wasn't right. It wasn't, and it hurt twice as much because Pan said these things and meant them, and after all he'd done-- after all he'd become--
"God," He breathed. It was supposed to be Pan's loss, really. It shouldn't bother him at all. If anything, he should be excited by the news-- it was a one up for the villian against the hero. But they had never played conventionally before, and here in this City all the lines and boundaries were broken and smudged even worse then they had ever been in Neverland where they controlled the story. But he could feel this loss as if it were his own, like something had been pulled from the very pit of his soul and was being waved tauntingly in his face.
Look what you've done.
Jas bowed his head and curled around the boy as if he could protect him from himself, from this, with the cage of his body. He relaxed, almost giving up, pliant against Peter's back instead of a solid force. And there he stopped, perfectly silent, and as still as he had been for many years.
--
He was suffocating. With the nearly sympathetic touches and the soft breaths and the feather light brush of black hair against his skin, that damnably familiar beating of his heart- Peter wanted nothing more than to cover his ears, curl up in a ball, and cry. Not entirely out of sadness, but also for how lost he felt. It had never been so hard before and yet here he'd been, leaning against a ship's mast for support and relying on his nemesis for comfort.
It didn't make any sense, he knew. But even what he thought he knew was being called into question because Peter knew that if he just shut his eyes, he couldn't tell the difference between James Hook and James Matthew. And he didn't know who he would prefer- which scared him most of all.
--
James wasn't sure how long they stayed that way, silent with a shared anxiety, the only movement the rise and fall of harmonized breathing. Jas had his face turned into Peter's temple, eyes yet to open. So many people said the City was like a second chance. So why did this feel so much like closure? The curtain fall? The end?
Neither of them had won this fight. If anything, it felt like they had both lost to whatever it was they had been struggling so valiantly to hold on to. Finally, Jas took a deep breath, eyes slitting open, no trace of red lingering whatsoever. His hold on the boy tightened, just minimally, possessive, before loosing again. It may be the finale of that adventure, and they may be floundering like sailors drowning, but despite all of that, this was still their story. They would make it their own, the way they always had, and bugger this City, these feelings, everything else. They would make things normal again, because it was what they did, how they had continued for so long.
"I'm not leaving," He murmured against Peter's ear, and though he meant the ship, it somehow felt deeper and more profound then just that.
--
The words did ring much deeper for him, though the boy- perhaps consciously- refused to think about it. They had come to some sort of understanding, and for the first time since he'd given up his ability to fly, he actually felt lighter. More at ease. The words against his ear brought him a greater comfort than the boy himself was able to grasp.
They'd been pulled out of Neverland, like ships torn from their mooring, and yet still managed to find something to hang onto. Some sort of safe harbor to seek refuge in- if only this once, and for that small time.
Peter rose slowly, body straightening and head lifting as he stepped away from the mast and out of the way of the frighteningly familiar half-embrace. Green eyes focused somewhere off along the shore, unable to face the man as he walked to the ship's edge. Distance. The distance always helped didn't it? They would have to resume their old roles after all...wouldn't they? Yes, yes- his mind answered. Yes, and everything will go back to the way it was.
Rough but slender hands came to rest on the edge and Peter kept his back to the man. When he spoke, his voice was devoid of it's innocent lilt, even but firm. "You can keep the ship until I find him." It was a simple statement, declaring temporary residency along with the subtle claim that Hook's stay would not be a long one, and the boy chanced a glance over his shoulder as he continued. "...Because I trust you."
Peter didn't care to elaborate.
Without another word, the boy lifted himself up, leaping up and over the railing to fall into the water below. The shore was close, and that meant the safety of his room, and of Wendy, and a quiet place where he could finally stop thinking.
Rating; PG-13
Characters; Peter Pan
all_butone & Jas. Hook ironhookSummary; Pan brought back the Jolly Roger, and Hook fights him for it. But what were the consequences? Is that all they're fighting for?
Log;
Late afternoon and James stepped out of Kitty's apartment, pulling his cigar holder from his pocket. A lighter followed soon after-- some new fangled thing he picked up at one of the stores, silver and shaped like a box-- and with a twitch of his wrist both cigars were lit. He inhaled deeply as he tucked the lighter away again, tilting his chin up to exhale a ring of smoke into the air. The days were getting longer, he noticed. It was strange, having a regular sort of season again. In Neverland, the weather depended mostly on Pan and himself. He couldn't actually remember the last time a chill had lasted so long, save when Pan left Neverland.
The pirate huffed, shook his head and pushed away form Kitty's apartment, not sure where he was going, but needing to move. She was doing better now, anyway, and he didn't feel the need to watch her from the corner of his eye anymore. Though he had laughed at the monster hangover her drinking binge had resulted in. Silly girl.
--
The laughter came easily, a light hearted sound that started as a soft bubbling in his stomach before it made it's way to his lips. Peter was more than pleased with himself, idly walking the length of the ship's deck, still in awe of his newest prize. Even in Neverland, finally declaring ownership of the Jolly Roger had been no easy task, but now that he was in the City, the vessel had fallen more than willingly into his hands. The ulitmate symbol of his victory.
Hook himself had loved the ship, perhaps more than Peter had ever seen the man care for anything- and that alone made it valuable; still...though he was never one to pass up a chance to gloat, that alone hadn't been the reason he sought the ship out. The boy let his eyes slide shut at the thought, savoring the memory for what it was. James had spoken so fondly of having his own ship someday and now...Peter smiled once more, leaning back against the mast- and now he would be able to grant the boy his wish.
--
That crystalline laugh reached James like butterflies on the wind. It didn't matter how far away Pan was, they could be on opposite sides of the planet, he could always hear it, like he had a sixth sense tuned solely to the boy. They were much closer this time, though, as James had already been wandering through the forest when the sound touched his ears. Forget-me-nots narrowed, and at the fork in the worn-down path, he turned right and headed for the beach, his gait a little more brisk then it had been previously.
When he stepped out into the light again, the sudden change from dark to bright obscured his vision, and so at first didn't see the ship or it's sole occupant. Once adjusted, though, he squinted out passed the shore, left hand shielding his eyes-- and promptly went slack-jawed.
It couldn't be.
--
He couldn't quite explain the feeling, though he certainly didn't mind it. It was strange, as most feelings usually knotted up his stomach and all sorts of bad things came out of them- but this one... When James had left, it was as though a heavy weight had dropped into his stomach, crushing his chest and making the whole world seem heavy. But with what Valerie had told him- everything was made bearable. Even after those terrible things Hook had said, it wasn't enough to bring him down. Who would he be, after all, if he couldn't rely on his instincts? Yes, the same instincts that told him it was a lie, the same instincts that insisted the James could not possibly be dead.
But while that burden had lifted, it hadn't vanished entirely...
And yet now, laughing and spinning in lazy circles across the deck of the Jolly Roger, he could feel that long lost sensation of butterflies in his stomach. As though everything inside of him wished to fly everywhere at once.
Simply because he'd gotten the one thing for James that the boy had always wanted.
Surely, if he could get the boy a ship of his own, then they would find a way back to Neverland together.
--
It took James a few long moments to register exactly what he was seeing, but once he had, a delighted smile curled his mouth. The Jolly Roger. His Jolly Roger. Maybe this City wasn't so horrible after all. His ship... what else could he possibly need, now? With a bark of laughter, he pocketed his cigars and lurched into a sprint, red frock flying, black hair lashing. It would be impossible to sail her anywhere with no crew, and she was nearly beached at the moment, but that hardly mattered. She was back.
He splashed into the surf, careless to the fact that it weighed his clothing down, and pressed his left hand to the hull of the warship. James smiled privately and tilted his forehead to the stained timber, fingers curling into a possessive fist. He had everything he needed now, right here in this City. With a chuckle, he turned and curled his hand around the net draped along the side of the boat, quickly scaling up to the main deck.
--
Delirious with joy of his own, Peter remained blissfully oblivious to the splashing only feet away. In truth, worrying about what his nemesis happened to be up to at the given moment was the furthest thing on his mind. Instead, bare, sand dusted feet stepped on a nearby barrel as the boy lifted his body to sit on the edge of the ship, allowing his legs to dangle over the vessel's side. It was a beautiful view, that much was certain, and Peter had to wonder at how he'd never noticed such a thing before. With the ocean's spray occasionally splashing just enough to lick at his toes and the sea-salt winds tangling in his hair- he was finally able to understand in some small degree, what it was about sailing that Hook loved so much.
Peter let go of a small sigh of content, body relaxing to move with the ship's gentle lull. Night would come soon enough, and though he didn't wish to leave the Jolly Roger, the last thing he wanted was to worry Wendy.
--
Peter sat on the opposite side of the ship James climbed, and so when he reached the railing, the first thing he saw passed the masts and barrels and crates was the boy. It was only then that he remembered what had lured him to the seashore again. But he was so delighted with the discovery of his warship that even the sight of his rival perched so quaintly couldn’t sour his mood. If anything, it made everything just that much more perfect—this was the closest thing to normal everything had been since James’ arrival.
Smirking, he climbed quietly onto the deck, and crept across the width of the Jolly Roger with the silence perfected by years of thievery and treachery. At the last moment, just before Pan could have flown away, or reacted, James struck like a cobra. His left arm locked around the boy’s ribs as he pressed up against Pan’s back, hook coming around to poise against the soft skin of throat. This close, his grin could be felt against his rival’s ear as he growled: “Enjoying my ship, boy?”
--
The contact caught him entirely off guard, giving him no time to mask the cry of surprise that left his throat- body jerking instinctively against the arm around his chest, trying to escape the hold. Ironically enough, the man had probably saved his life- or at the very least, his pride, because the surprise attack had left him reeling and Peter was certain that he would have easily lost his balance and fallen; had Hook not been holding him so tightly.
As quickly as he was startled however, the boy recovered, falling into step with their familiar rivalry. The press of cool metal against his throat sent a chill down his spine- Peter glared. "Your ship? Hardly." He was at a disadvantage, he knew. After all, he was unarmed, since his roommate had decided to take his sword in for 'safe keeping'. He had yet to find it.
The thought didn't trouble him and Peter kept his body still. The chances of Hook killing him then and there were small after all- it wouldn't be the victory the man wanted. That much he was sure of.
--
James smirked, lifting his chin just slightly, his unshaven jaw coarse against Peter's skin. The hook tilted just a little, point pressing up under Pan's chin, and though the touch was firm, it wasn't quite enough to draw blood. "It is my ship," He drawled, "Despite any title you may give yourself."
The pirate captain was nearly giddy: this couldn't go more perfectly. Pan unarmed and at his mercy aboard the deck of his Jolly Roger. He could slit his throat then and there-- but where was the fun in that? It went against the rules. Surprise attacks were allowed, but this was a different situation. For all the threatening and cheating he and his rival did, there was still an unspoken procedure to follow. Never before had they strayed from it, and it shouldn't be any different now, despite a change of location.
--
The arrogant comment coupled with their skin to skin contact set him on edge and Peter wished rather desperately for a sword. It was unnerving for him to be so entirely at the pirate's mercy, and as a result, his reply was shorter than usual. "You're not the one who brought it here. I am."
Peter could feel his heart hammering frantically against his chest, pumping liquid fire through his veins and he all but counted the seconds as they ticked by. Hook was too close, distracting him. They'd never been this close before, and the boy couldn't understand why their proximity made it so hard to focus. Any second now, he knew, Hook would pull away and give him a weapon. Any second now the man would let him go, and they would fight, and everything would be normal again.
The contempt was blatent, though Peter made no effort to turn and face the man.
--
The reply was enough to draw James up short, and the smile slid from his face. Now that he thought of it, it was strange that the ship was here. How? Why? Nothing in this place was free. Nothing in life was free, but that truth was doubled in this place. If Pan had brought the ship here, then he must have traded something for it. And that, if nothing else, made Hook suspicious. A chill curled in his belly, something like anxiety, but he studiously ignored it.
Instead, he moved, left arm curling up from Peter's ribs, wrapping over his shoulder in something of a half-nelson, fingers fisting into the boy's golden hair. He tugged to the side, forcing Pan's face to turn towards him, tilting his own to look intensely at the wild child. He hadn't moved away at all, though, and this close, he could feel the boy's breath against the corner of his mouth. "What is that supposed to mean?" He growled, voice low.
--
Under normal circumstances, the tension confused him and Peter would run as far from the cause as possible. Because under normal cicumstances, it was an uncomfortable feeling that knotted up his stomach and made him feel clumsy and awkward. But with a hand gripping tightly in his hair and forcing him to meet startlingly blue eyes- he was reminded somehow of James, and it only fueled his anger.
His typical cocky expression darkened considerably, turning into a defiant glare. How dare Hook try to take the ship away when he'd done nothing to attain it in the first place? How dare he lay claim to the Jolly Roger for his own selfish purposes when Peter himself had wanted it only to give it away? That pirate would not take the ship- it was for James and James alone. The soft puffs of warm breath against his skin were easily fogotten and when he answered, the boy's voice was dangerously low with ringing finality. "It is not your ship anymore."
--
"It has always been my ship," Hook snarled, thrown by the dark defiance, the possessiveness that shadowed the corners of those eyes. That wasn't fair. Pan was changing the rules. It made the impatience, the unease in his middle flare viciously, and uncomfortable with it, the pirate responded in the only way he ever let himself anymore. With a growl, he stepped back and yanked, pulling the boy off of the railing and throwing him to the deck by hair alone.
"And it will always be mine," He snapped, then reached across his body to unsheath the ever-present sword at his hip. But from there, he didn't attack. Bad form, after all. He paused only long enough for Peter to find a weapon and match his stance.
--
A small cry escaped his lips as he hit the ground, momentarily dazed by the impact. Sprawled out across the wooden planks, his hands balled into fists and the boy grit his teeth- more in anger than physical pain. If it was a fight the man wanted, it was a fight he would get- but Peter knew with a certainty he could begin to explain, that he would not lose. Not when the penalty was giving up the Jolly Roger.
"I'm the one who came for it."
He stood slowly, meeting Hook's eyes unflinchingly and holding his gaze for a moment before turning his head to look for a suitable weapon. Any weapon would do- and spotting an unsheathed sword nearby, he went to it, fingers wrapping around the hilt. There was more intensity between them than usual, that much was undeniable, and Peter walked back over, standing before the pirate once more and lifting his chin a fraction- to show that he was ready.
--
"You're the one who stole it," The chin tilt was all he needed, and his scarlet lashed through his eyes like lightening. Like an attack dog released from its chain, Hook lunged, all flashing steel and wicked hook. It wasn't Peter's ship, no matter what he said. It belonged to Jas Hook alone, and he had fought long and hard to get her, to keep her. The only thing that had remained with him through all the years. The only thing he had left of his past. He couldn't let her go: she was his freedom and his prison, and he refused to lose her to a boy.
"Why do you want her so badly?" He snarled, with all the jealousy of a wronged lover.
--
Peter met the attack with equal fervor, relishing the clang of steel as he narrowly dodged his opponent's hook, letting loose a half furious yell as he charged again; their weapons locking. "Because it's for James!" the boy yelled. He'd expected some resistance from the man, he'd expected a battle of sorts, but not one with so much passion. To part of him, Hook's reasoning made sense- that it was something dear to him and he would fight- perhaps until death- to retain it.
But a far louder part argued back, childish and selfish and defiant. He'd beaten Hook in Neverland and been declared Captain. And even now, in the City, it was Peter who'd asked for it, it was Peter who'd made sure the vessel was brought to the ocean- where it belonged. It didn't matter what the man said, he hadn't been willing to take the necessary steps to get the Jolly Roger back; and the boy would not back down. James wanted a ship. The cost meant nothing.
--
Admittedly, the response was not what Jas had expected, and he faltered, reeling away when their weapon-lock broke. It was enough to set him back just a moment, a break in the flurry of falling steel, the two of them circling like wolves readying to pounce. The ship was for James. The thought dried his mouth and clutched like a vice at his heart, because as much as he tried to push that part of himself away, it refused to fade. Nobody had done something so huge for him before, something so selfless, nobody since--
It set off a chain reaction of emotion, each new feeling more confusing then the last, and they were all so tangled together that James couldn’t even begin to try and sort them out while fighting. He hissed, frustrated with himself and with Pan for doing it to him, and charged again.
“You think he can’t find a ship on his own?” The captain asked , loud and bitter over the clash of iron, almost sounding indignant. He wasn’t helpless, after all. Not now, not then. He didn’t need charity.
--
He hadn't suspected the bitterness, nor the play of emotions that passed over Hook's face only moments before. The procession bewildered him. Peter knew the man, perhaps better than he knew himself- and yet the look in his eyes was so unfamiliar, it captured the boy's attention completely.
Emerald eyes widened, pulled from the passion of sword play to furrow his brows, confused by the sudden change of direction. "It isn't about that!" He shook his head, frustrated by the man's inability to understand what seemed perfectly simple to him. Peter whirled once more, striking hard enough to force Hook back again- putting that precious space between them. "It's the only worthy gift I can give him."
--
"And why, why such a grand gift?" Jas barked, turning his sword over and attacking again. He was relentless, something wild in his eyes, a wild animal apprehensive of what lingered on the horizon. "What provoked such generousity?"
The final word was punctuated as his sword came down heavily, hook following suit to lock both blades together. Already James' breath was coming quicker, a mixture of adrenaline and anxietyfearhopewarmthjealousy-- he wasn't actually sure he wanted to know the answer to his question. But it was too late to take back, and there they stood, tangled together in a sharp-edged embrace, static between them as the inquiry hovered in the hair.
--
Peter let loose another yell and braced himself, barely managing to block against the swing. Hook wasn't holding back in the slightest; and for a reason he couldn't quite explain, the ferocity in the man's eyes left butterflies in his stomach. It wasn't fear, that much he knew, because Peter Pan had never been truly afraid of him before. He clenched his teeth, eyes narrowing once more.
If nothing else, the man's ignorance was what sparked his anger. What right did he have, after all, to talk so lightly about James? "Because he wants it!" He fired back, lunging once more. "Because he's important!" Weapons locked once more and Peter's voice was little more than a dangerous whisper- half growled. "Fight all you want. Because it's for him I will. not. lose."
--
Whether it was the look in his eyes, or the tone of his voice, or even just his words-- something stilled the pirate. Scarlet eyes riddled hard into the boy's face, studying his expression, tension lacing his shoulders and his arms as they pushed against each other. He recognized that look, and it made the bottom of his stomach drop alarmingly. With a huff of breath that sounded suspiciously like a gasp, James shoved, and came quickly at Peter, forcing him backwards. This wasn't right, there was something else in the air-- they weren't just arguing over a ship. And their blades were matching more regularly, though James couldn't figure out exactly why that was. But then, he was having trouble focusing on anything but the wild boy in front of him, the look on his face, the way he moved.
"Why?" James snarled again, why wasn't it making sense? The commentary continued, almost desperate to make things normal again: "How is he important, Pan? Do you even know? What makes him so different from your Lost Boys?"
--
“Because I won't let him go! Because he's special to me!" He blurted out, arrogant and defiant and determined to have the final say despite the consequences- despite the honesty of the words. Hook had always had a talent for bringing out the worst in him; for pushing him further than anyone else could possibly push.
And the pirate's latest lunge sent him backwards, nearly knocking him off balance which did nothing but irritate him further. He was tired of being confused, and he was tired of letting Hook have the upper hand. "What does it matter to you anyway?!"
--
James straightened as Peter staggered backwards, and with the distance, the stillness crept up his spine again, leaving a chill in its wake. But this time, it filtered to his face, and he looked, for a moment, as though he had seen a ghost. His blade remained pointed at Pan, but it tilted just a little towards the deck, stricken. It was Wendy all over again, but deeper, more possessive, and it was exactly--
"Mary, Mother of God," He said, hushed, "You love him."
--
Where the murderous intent in Hook's eyes had failed to frighten him before, the man's words struck him like lightening to the core. Like the whole world had suddenly stilled and hung on a razor's edge- ready at a moments notice to come crashing down around him. And yet, with that fear creeping in like frost over him- there was a moment of calm in the stillness. A realization of his own and he was suddenly aware of the weight of the weapon in his hand, the rise and fall of his chest as he breathed, the texture of the ship's deck beneath his bare feet.
It was as if he'd only been dimly aware of the world until that moment- when each detail was made known, and the knot in his stomach eased.
Peter did not change his position, still on edge and ready to strike, but complete calm passed over his face in response. The tension in his shoulders eased, and his indignant glare faded, chin lifting to meet the man's bright blue eyes, holding his gaze evenly. "I won't let you take this ship." Perhaps...not. No perhaps. It was certain now. What the pirate had said had been the truth, and yet it left a wariness in him. After all, he'd cared for Wendy and Hook nearly killed her. What would he try to do to James?
--
No. No, no, no-- he couldn't do that. It messed up everything. It was bad enough that James had ignored his own truths-- something he was good at, now-- but faced with that defiant honesty, that unusually calm expression—he realized the rules didn't matter here anymore. This wasn't the game they had been playing for the past who-knew-how-long. It was shifting and changing and although James noised and teased Pan about growing up, he wasn't sure he was ready for this kind of adventure. Not again. Not after what happened last time. But still-- still he felt a flare of jealousy, because it was the boy James that Peter cared so much about, and not him.
"You can't. You can't," He said, and sounded on the verge of hysterics, lifting the blade but not moving a step, "You don't know what you're talking about. You don't know what you're doing--"
---
The hysterical edge to his voice made him uneasy and once more, he was left without an explaination. This wasn't right, it was all wrong and he was all wrong and Hook was all wrong- and this wasn't the way they were supposed to be. The sound of the man's voice struck a chord in him and Peter squeezed his eyes shut to block it out. It wasn't like their games in Neverland, and the thought troubled him. If Hook was changing like this...then that meant that their Neverland would be changing- and the boy swallowed the lump the rose up in his throat. His voice stayed soft but the feeling of complete confidance was lost.
"You- you don't know what you're doing either."
--
Something snapped inside of the pirate, and before all synapses had finished firing, the sword was clattering to the ground and James was moving. His hook rose, but instead of going for Pan, it connected with the boy's sword, twisting and spinning it from his grasp, sending it to join the other on the deck. It all happened too quickly, and James didn't even realize what had happened until he had Pan face-forward to the mainmast. His left hand was at the boy's wrist, holding it to the wood, right forearm across the smaller one, hook sunk into the wood. The position locked them front-to-back, trapped against the mast. He wasn't exactly sure what prompted the move. A hope, perhaps that if he stopped everything, brought the fight and all of it to a standstill, then nothing would change. They could back up, pretend none of this had ever happened.
But, almost frantically, he realized that the boy had already grown, passed his shoulder now. It was too late to stop the changes. And in that same moment he realized why else this turn of events was so surprising:
The attack shouldn't have worked. Pan should have flown out of the way, as he had done so many times before to avoid being pinned. A stunned silence closed over them, thick and intense.
--
The attack was so fast he hadn't even had time to cry out, much less make a move to defend himself. Equally sudden was the feeling of rough wood against his cheek, the press of Hook's warm body held so firmly against his own- his back arched reflexively, straining against the man. The shock alone kept him still for several seconds, overwhelmed by the rush of sensation, desperately trying to make sense of what had just taken place and how he'd managed to let himself be pinned...
desperately trying to ignore the way their proximity made his skin prickle.
It look a moment longer than it should have, to remember to struggle to escape. Hands clenched and squirming, trying to break out of that grasp. It was distracting, which bothered him because Hook had gotten too good at doing it. It wasn't the first time they'd been so close, and the memory alone made his breath hitch and his eyes squeeze closed to shut it out.
--
James tightened his hold, pressing in when Pan struggled and arched and tried to get away. But he had startled himself just as badly as he had startled Peter, and despite himself, a tremble ran the length of his body. Hook didn't scare easily, but he had quickly lost his footing in this-- this whateveritwas. His stomach was full of fairies beating against his ribs, and though this was unfamiliar ground with Pan, it somehow didn't feel so different. And that, if nothing else, terrified him.
He stilled, flush against Peter's back with his cheek pressed against the soft of his hair. Though Pan couldn't see it, James, too, had closed his eyes, jaw locked with tension. He was absolutely quiet for a long moment before he swallowed against the desert of his mouth, and murmured: "Why won't you fly?"
--
The question hit him like a physical blow and Peter stilled, hands slowly ceasing their struggle to go lax in the man's grip. The closest to surrender that he had ever come. For a long moment, the boy remained silent. Unable to speak, and unwilling to try. He didn't trust himself like this, with the familiar beating of a heart so near and warm breath ghosting over him.
Familiar, and foreign at the same time- and Peter finally stopped trying so hard. Narrow shoulders relaxed and the boy inhaled softly to steady himself. There was a strange sort of comfort in their contact; though he refused to think on it any further. Where there had been shouts and yells and clanging swords, it was as though a wave of calm had passed over them. An end to their fight without victory or defeat- Peter knew in the pit of his stomach that too many lines were getting blurred. "I forgot how." He breathed, an almost murmured confession.
"For him... to get the Jolly Roger. I forgot."
--
James winced, hard, and bowed his head, the black curls of his hair tipping passed his shoulders, dusting Peter's skin. "Brimestone and gall, boy," He muttered, his voice strained but holding none of its usual venom. His left hand curled against Peter's wrist, the flutter of his pulse beneath his skin beating in time with the man’s own. And it was funny, almost, how even now in foreign-but-familiar territory, they remained completely synchronized.
"You went to them for m-- for--" He didn't even know how to articulate what he wanted to say, but this information was like a knife under his ribs, twisting and relentless. Guilt rolled over him, hard, and he swallowed again. Because as much as he denied it, Jas Hook was still James Matthew; it was simply that he hadn't realized someone else could draw that part of him out until now. Hadn’t realized Peter had succeeded in what nobody else had since—
"You shouldn't have," The pirate whispered. He didn't deserve that kind of compassion, "He isn't worth your wings."
--
Peter shook his head. It was a small, absent-minded gesture, but there nonetheless. He suddenly felt very small and all sorts of uncertain; and like all other things he knew without really knowing- Peter could sense that he had stumbled into something far bigger than himself. The tone of the man's voice alone was enough to make the boy want to cry.
He was right to a degree. After all, Peter had loved flying, because it was more than just flying. It was the entire reason he'd run away to begin with, the reason he'd stayed behind when Wendy and the Lost Boys had gone away to grow up. It was his freedom. And Peter had known it for so long, that the ability had become synonymous with who he was. He felt it's loss, and he felt it more profoundly than perhaps anything he'd ever known.
Now...Peter had become just another ordinary boy- and that was what hurt worst of all.
Fingers tightened once more, though this time not in anger, not out of a desire to escape...but instead a search for something solid. Some semblence of security. Dirty fingernails scraped against the mast as his body shuddered.
It did hurt. It pained him in a way he didn't think he could ever fully explain to anyone. And yet, Peter could not deny that he'd made the exchange willingly. He struggled momentarily- to control breathing that threatened to burst into erratic sobs. He'd done it for James, and that would make everything worth it.
When Peter exhaled, the breath was shaky, but his eyes finally opened. Though he was hesitant to trust his vocal chords, the boy struggled with the reply regardless. "You're wrong. He's worth far more than that." It was devoid of the usual accusations, and instead subdued, like something fragile he was trying desperately to protect.
--
James moved, minutely, when he felt the change in the boy's body. His grip on Peter's wrist slacked, palm opening, covering the smaller fist that gripped at nothing. It wasn't right. It wasn't, and it hurt twice as much because Pan said these things and meant them, and after all he'd done-- after all he'd become--
"God," He breathed. It was supposed to be Pan's loss, really. It shouldn't bother him at all. If anything, he should be excited by the news-- it was a one up for the villian against the hero. But they had never played conventionally before, and here in this City all the lines and boundaries were broken and smudged even worse then they had ever been in Neverland where they controlled the story. But he could feel this loss as if it were his own, like something had been pulled from the very pit of his soul and was being waved tauntingly in his face.
Look what you've done.
Jas bowed his head and curled around the boy as if he could protect him from himself, from this, with the cage of his body. He relaxed, almost giving up, pliant against Peter's back instead of a solid force. And there he stopped, perfectly silent, and as still as he had been for many years.
--
He was suffocating. With the nearly sympathetic touches and the soft breaths and the feather light brush of black hair against his skin, that damnably familiar beating of his heart- Peter wanted nothing more than to cover his ears, curl up in a ball, and cry. Not entirely out of sadness, but also for how lost he felt. It had never been so hard before and yet here he'd been, leaning against a ship's mast for support and relying on his nemesis for comfort.
It didn't make any sense, he knew. But even what he thought he knew was being called into question because Peter knew that if he just shut his eyes, he couldn't tell the difference between James Hook and James Matthew. And he didn't know who he would prefer- which scared him most of all.
--
James wasn't sure how long they stayed that way, silent with a shared anxiety, the only movement the rise and fall of harmonized breathing. Jas had his face turned into Peter's temple, eyes yet to open. So many people said the City was like a second chance. So why did this feel so much like closure? The curtain fall? The end?
Neither of them had won this fight. If anything, it felt like they had both lost to whatever it was they had been struggling so valiantly to hold on to. Finally, Jas took a deep breath, eyes slitting open, no trace of red lingering whatsoever. His hold on the boy tightened, just minimally, possessive, before loosing again. It may be the finale of that adventure, and they may be floundering like sailors drowning, but despite all of that, this was still their story. They would make it their own, the way they always had, and bugger this City, these feelings, everything else. They would make things normal again, because it was what they did, how they had continued for so long.
"I'm not leaving," He murmured against Peter's ear, and though he meant the ship, it somehow felt deeper and more profound then just that.
--
The words did ring much deeper for him, though the boy- perhaps consciously- refused to think about it. They had come to some sort of understanding, and for the first time since he'd given up his ability to fly, he actually felt lighter. More at ease. The words against his ear brought him a greater comfort than the boy himself was able to grasp.
They'd been pulled out of Neverland, like ships torn from their mooring, and yet still managed to find something to hang onto. Some sort of safe harbor to seek refuge in- if only this once, and for that small time.
Peter rose slowly, body straightening and head lifting as he stepped away from the mast and out of the way of the frighteningly familiar half-embrace. Green eyes focused somewhere off along the shore, unable to face the man as he walked to the ship's edge. Distance. The distance always helped didn't it? They would have to resume their old roles after all...wouldn't they? Yes, yes- his mind answered. Yes, and everything will go back to the way it was.
Rough but slender hands came to rest on the edge and Peter kept his back to the man. When he spoke, his voice was devoid of it's innocent lilt, even but firm. "You can keep the ship until I find him." It was a simple statement, declaring temporary residency along with the subtle claim that Hook's stay would not be a long one, and the boy chanced a glance over his shoulder as he continued. "...Because I trust you."
Peter didn't care to elaborate.
Without another word, the boy lifted himself up, leaping up and over the railing to fall into the water below. The shore was close, and that meant the safety of his room, and of Wendy, and a quiet place where he could finally stop thinking.