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tampered2007-06-19 09:42 pm
ironhook.livejournal.com) wrote in tampered2007-06-19 09:42 pm
Log; Completed
When; June 14; Sunset
Rating; PG?
Characters; Jas Hook![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
ironhook and Peter Pan all_butone
Summary; Return to Neverland; and a surprising way of doing so.
Log;
It wasn't right to want to leave Neverland, it wasn't right and more than that it wasn't fair. He'd won. He'd beaten Jas Hook and won the battle to end all battles and now even in the city, even without his lost boys and Wendy everything was finally alright. It was finally just the way he wanted it.
And now Hook wanted to leave.
Not just leave, but sail out of Neverland with his crew and his ship and to just...let him go. He'd been so angry he could barely stand it, but in time that familiar spark, the burning in his blood cooled, leaving behind only the weight that smouldered even now in his chest. It was a feeling of some sort, that much was certain, and yet even after so much time spent learning names for these feelings, now, what did it matter at all?
It was something dark, that much he was sure of, and ulimately, it was that slow spreading dark that pushed him to seek the man out. No, Peter didn't understand it, but now...he couldn't possibly hope to keep the captain and the rest of the pirates in Neverland against their will. A heavy divide between more selfish desires, and his ever present need to do the noble thing. He'd landed quietly enough, though now out of habit than any fear of being discovered. The past few times Peter had flitted about the ship at this hour, he'd been unable to find the man. Not in bed anyway, and not walking about in deck. Green eyes were dark, sweeping over his surroundings. He doubted Hook would leave the ship, which left no place else save-- his chin lifted, gaze landing up high in the rigging. The crow's nest.
A would-be sigh made it's way to his mouth, but died on his lips. Peter was hesitating. Were he less a boy and more a man, he might have been pacing, but as it were, he stood still, hands limp at his sides as he watched the crow's nest. If he listened hard enough he could hear a soft scratching, a scraping of some kind, but more than that, it was proof that he was right, that Hook was just a little ways above his head. Peter swallowed. It was what he'd come there for, wasn't it? He'd sought him out, and combed the ship and now he found him and yet Peter was still....just standing there.
The weight shifted. Seeing him, would be nothing more than one more step towards a ending he didn't even want. Just like Wendy. What had happened, to make everyone want to leave Neverland?
Oh the captain had tried to explain, but it was nothing he hadn't heard already. That he would come back, that he wouldn't forget, that he didn't truly want to leave but that he had to. None of it really meant anything though because nobody remembered Neverland. It just didn't happen. Part of the magic of the island to make everything the sweetest of dreams, and nothing more. Besides, once the pirates were gone, Peter himself would forget as well, and that would be that. Dark eyes shut tight, as though steading himself, before rising into the air- effortless and featherlight, gliding silently to the landing and peering over the edge. Just enough to see dark curls and the faintest hint of movement, slow and methodical. Fingertips slid along the edge as he rose further, stopping at last to let feet light on the wood- soundless, and leaning forward a fraction, curious as to the cause of the noise.
It was a rose- Jas loved flowers- a wooden rose that he plucked at, intricately designed- which was a surprise. The hook he wore looked anything but delicate, and so the fact that he could twist it just so and shape each petal, each vein in the leaves. His hook was a marvelous thing, in fact, Jas wasn't all that bitter about it anymore. Yes, he preached loudly to his crew about it, about the great suffering he had because of it. But it was almost poetically ironic that he should take on the characteristics of his namesake. But this hook could easy rip and tear just as soon as brush hair off of someone's neck.
And speaking of, he felt the brush of breath against his hair- senses almost hyper turned in the night, with the lack of sleep. He paused just a fraction of a moment, the slightest turn of his chin towards the golden boy. But forgetmenots didn't actually flick to land on the boy. The incline of his head was just enough to acknowledge Peter, and Jas had to close his eyes against the relief that trickled between his bones. Maybe Pan wouldn't stay, but the fact that he was here- it meant something, didn't it?
Again to the task at hand, and some tension eased from his shoulders as the steady carving continued.
It was the rose he'd looked at first. Each delicate curve, slope of the stem, as though it were a flower truly in bloom. The painstaking detail that Hook had always poured into his ventures was something Peter himself had always been facinated by. As a general rule, the boy was the type to act first, and ask questions later; dependant on instinct and responding instinctively- and the pirate himself was just the opposite. While it was something even in the early days, he couldn't quite fathom, he had never found the extensive planning anything less than intriguing.
He spoke and something in his chest fractured, enough to force the tightness in his shoulders away. Just the boy being there had been soothing to the jangle of his nerves, but his voice- amazing how such a simple thing could hold such sway over him. Jas said nothing in response. He knew it was a lovely rose. He made it that way on purpose.
A twist of his wrist and he shaved off the the last edge of the stem, smoothing it out, before turning it over and with a subtle twitch of his hook carved three letters into the bottom side of one of the petals. J.M.H. A cant of his head and he squinted at his masterpiece. In truth, he had been working on this particular rose for a few nights now. He hadn't been sure what he was going to do with it until now.
Forgetmenots finally lifted, sharp and sad all at the same time to Peter- and held the rose up between forefinger and thumb. "It is yours."
When had Jas Hook done anything that ever made any sense? Even when he'd first gotten to Neverland, he just did everything backwards, and brows creased as they looked at the gift. It wasn't that he wasn't used to be given gifts, or even that he was used to recieving them- simply that it was strange under all circumstances. This one especially so. Tension hung heavy in the air, almost tangible, the way Peter could feel it clinging to his skin, and his head shook slow in an attempt to pull it loose. It already felt like things were pulling apart and no matter what either of them did, it wouldn't stop. Peter- had never liked not being the one in charge, especially of things that felt so big.
Lips pursed, hesitating as they flickered from the carving, to impossible blue and when he spoke at last, his voice was muted and soft. Nothing of their old rivalry. Their old spark. "But I have nothing for you in return."
Blue eyes never wavered once from Peter's face, even as the boy fought inwardly. It was like watching colours dance across his face, starlight and moonlight casting shadows in the sunshine of his skin. Everything he saw trip over his expression was a mirror of what was happening in his own chest. It did feel too much like endings for Jas' comfort-- but at the same time, Jas Hook- even James Matthew- had never been one to give up on anything. Never been one to break a promise.
And it was sweet, how Peter wanted to give something back. Sweet, because there was no way Jas could ever tell him, show him everything he had already given without letting go of a thing. When he spoke, his voice was equally soft, just this side of pleading. "...Take it."
Green eyes flickered once more, dark-light-dark, as slender fingers reached out to wrap ever so carefully around the stem, drawing the gift close and cradling it in his hands- as though it were truly the delicate blossom it was moulded to be. Shoulders softened then, posture relaxing as legs slid away, spread out haphazardly across the small space. It was turning out just the way he'd expected really, and whether they said the words or not, Peter was not foolish enough not to recognize a parting gift.
It was then his head fell back, blond curls brushed away from his face and flower held in his lap, as the boy watched the stars. Something safe to focus on as he let familiarity settle in, adjusting to having the pirate so close. "Why are you up here?"
Jas hand fell, lifeless, to his lap as soon as it had nothing left to do. The flower gone and nothing to hold on to, his fingers curled loosely, palm up, on his knee.. This was familiar, yes. Familiar and still terribly painful- which wasn't so unusual. Something of their dynamic had always been tragic and cruel- so why should this be any different?
His eyes didn't leave Peter's face, despite the fact the boy and reclined to direct his gaze to the heavens. Jas had stared at these unfamiliar stars for so long already- he would, quite frankly, rather watch them reflect in green eyes. Their days were numbered, now, and if Jas had his way- he would spend every last minute memorizing everything about Peter. Which was almost ridiculous- in ways, he knew Peter better than he knew himself.
"I don't know." He replied simply, softly.
Stars, had always been a curious thing for him. As familiar as neighbors to any ordinary boy, signs and signals, a map he'd long since memorized, the only way to get back home. And then this city had happened, and he'd willingly given that map up- only to have need of it again. It was one thing, for Hook to ask to leave Neverland, it was another for the pair of them to get back to Neverland to begin with. It would be a lie, for Peter to deny that part of him wasn't genuinely delighted that he couldn't recall the way- but be that as it may, the knowledge that the man wished to leave at all...was sobering.
His chin dropped, distractedly turning from the sky, to the pirate sitting so painfully near. It was a quiet sort of comfort, if not sad, but Peter was in no mood to start this fight again. There were only so many times he could rail against it, argue and shout and demand that the captain not leave, but each fight ended the same way, the both wound up exhausted.
Peter leaned heavily against the wood at his back, simply watching the other man. True they both had a certain degree of obsession for eachother, a certain amount of time spent in dillgent study, memorization of the other, but never before could the boy recall simply sitting down to watch. Hair black as pitch and eyes that still caught starlight, and even now, the boy could still see glimpses of James in the captain's face. It wasn't the first time he'd had the thought, but it made that knot shift nonetheless, and sitting in unmasked observation, Peter's brows creased once more. Who exactly was it he was looking at?
For a long time Jas had been completely convinced James Matthew was dead. Damaged in the fire of Eton and beaten out of him by long hard years on the ocean. Funny how he hadn't realized the game of Neverland had been, in part, James Matthew. Funny how Peter could bring him out so easily now. Hook was having trouble distinguishing who was supposed to be who. There used to be a clear distinction between James and Jas- now he wasn't so sure.
He could see the confusion on Peter's face, but he wasn't sure what it was, how to fix it, or anything. So he stayed still, forgetmenots on his eyes, watching Peter watching him- silent.
He'd felt those eyes on him, more than anything else and like all things had been hyperaware of each sweeping gaze. They may as well have been hands, smooth and distracting right up until he'd finally managed to speak. Peter hadn't known what to expect of it, if the admission would mean anything at all to the captain, in even a fraction of the way it shook him. It was so much more than a word- in some instinctive way, like so much else he couldn't explain but still understood. It wasn't a name, it was a confession. Pieces were shifting once more, realigning to make more clear what he should have known the whole while. Not just James, and not just Hook- there had to be some sort of middle ground, a place where those two parts could touch and it would still be...alright.
Peter was almost startled at how quickly those eyes found him, hand jerking reflexively back, as though he might have hurt the pirate and that breath caught hard in his throat. Frozen and still.
He didn't do anything.
Why wasn't he doing anything? Jas was still, caught, and at first his brow furrowed a little when Peter-- did nothing. He should have been doing something. Right? Or maybe it was more... Jas needed him to be doing something. He waited- waited and when Peter still said nothing, the pirate swallowed against how dry his mouth had suddenly gone.
"--Say it again," He finally whispered, voice harsh and nearly inaudible, forget-me-nots locked to his face.
Something broke the moment the pirate growled those words. Peter didn't know, didn't know what he was supposed to do up until that moment and then in a crash, it washed through. "Jas-" It was almost a gasp, as though that name had been waiting forever on his mouth, and eyes fell closed at the way weight moved. "Jas." Firmer now, something old and familiar even in it's strangeness and the breath of his name could all but slide over the man's skin. Close but not touching- intense, focused green locking on blue as if to say he might never escape now. Caught in this- whatever it was.
He was still the first time Peter repeated it- but the second was when everything started to shift. The pirate's breath caught, lodged in his chest, and it was like every fibre of his being was reaching out, leaning towards Peter and his voice. His jaw eased, mouth softening and eyes intense. He couldn't have looked away if he tried. And it was like the first time he heard Peter laugh, a siren call almost- but something deeper than that. Something low behind his naval that pulled each time his name was said.
"Jas." It was like a light had gone on, all the pieces suddenly clicked into place and Peter couldn't hope to explain the way everything moved inside him. Something was happening, like a tidal wave, infinitely strong and steadily rising, almost like Wendy's thimble. He had always known on an instictive level, how influence he had on Neverland and all things in it- but there were only rare moments that the boy was acutely aware of it. Razored precision and the way it made his body light- to realign the stars. Part of him knew, this was something equally powerful, and the realization was warm in his chest, dark. "Jas." Nearly a command, demanding full attention with voice low and intimate, nearly speaking against the other's mouth.
Forget-me-nots fluttered, just a little, as if they wanted to close off from this- focus inward to the trickle of liquid warmth that slipped down his spine, between his ribs, curled in his chest and pooled somewhere behind is diapraghm. And the more he said it, the further it spread, like a tingle of power reaching out through his limbs. His breath shuddered, and deleriously his mind wandered briefly- a book on the occult and invocation, calling on power and channelling it--
But the thought was passed aside by Peter's voice. The boy had his full attention, had all of him-- and the soft moan that lifted from his chest was entirely involuntary, reflexive response to the heat holding his body captive.
It was warm. That seemed to be the only true feeling he could discern from the whole mess, that it was so very warm. Eyes fell to half mast as uncertainty had given way to the familiar. Surely this had happened before, it must have, to be so instinctive, retracing steps he'd almost forgotten. "Jas." And somehow, his name said so much more. Not simply an acknowledgement of who was who, of acceptance, or even seeking attention. It was magic. Like all the other intiricate workings of Neverland, this was a reclaiming, and Peter leaned ever closer, a candle searching for a spark and his voice a soft croon, praise. "Jas"
Power was cresting in his body, he could feel it seize his body, a pulse that was straining to release. His breathing quickened, eyes half-mast and focused so intently to Peter's. Everything was narrowed down to this one moment, this one space of time, there was nothing but this. And it was true- this had to have happened before. An odd sense of de ja vu, though Jas knew it had never occurred to he, himself. Mouth slack, and that soft voice, resonating in his bones-
He groaned, low, deep from his chest, and the blue of his eyes flickered, bright shadow, a glitter of red in them, not the warning he was ready to kill-- something more powerful. His hand flexed- he was close, but he needed the trigger- there was a trigger that was missing--
Though he had always been alarmingly aware of the changes in Jas Hook, this sudden intimacy made that thread so much more intense. The way his mouth softened, eyes flickered, chest tightened- yes, that was it, and to whatever end they had been straining, the boy could feel it, feather-light on the nape of his neck. Peter's hand reached out, fingers lighting on the scrawl of one particular scar over the man's forearm as eyes shut, and his mouth closed the distance between them, a final summons against the captain's lips, breathy and firm- "Jas."
Eyes widened and even before Peter closed the distance, something around them was shifting, stirring hair and clothing, kissing the back of Peter's neck- and then petal soft lips, his name, those fingers across the single word carved into his arm. His body seized, eyes finally snapping shut and his jaw fell open, hand tightening into a fist. First an audible gasp, and then his red-blue eyes were on Peter's face again, a whisper, then louder-
"Neverland. Neverland. Neverland-" And the final time, it was like he was calling the very place down on them. An explosion of power, rushing passed them like the roar of a waterfall. Black curls lashed out like snakes, his fist curling into Peter's hip. The sails filled with an audible snap, the flag just above their heads crackling as if blown bye a gale. And it didn't stop. It grew, faster, louder- and Jas was shaking, watching green eyes, mouth open in a silent cry as this- whatever it was- flashed around them like lightening--
And then nothing. Pure silence on the ocean, nothing but a ripple in the water and moonlight on the waves. The Jolly Roger, Peter Pan and Captain Jas. Hook had vanished.
Rating; PG?
Characters; Jas Hook
ironhook and Peter Pan all_butone Summary; Return to Neverland; and a surprising way of doing so.
Log;
Jas had lost track of how many times he had spent the night in the crow's nest. Days and nights were already bleeding togethers, and he should probably have been more tired than he was. Then again, most of his life sleep had been touch and go for him. Only in Neverland did he ever sleep soundly. Or, that wasn't entirely true, because he -had- been getting decent rest in the City. Though that, too, had been only under certain circumstances.
Ones that no longer existed. And hence, the insomnia had taken hold again. It was just sunset now, the sky exploded in deep red and oranges, something that would have been beautiful to the casual observer-- something that looked horribly macabre to Jas Hook. The colour of blood and fire. Pale blue eyes gazed listlessly towards the horizon and the setting light before pulling around again.
He was waiting for something, he thought idly, hook scraping splinters and shavings onto the planks he sat on. What, he wasn't sure. For Peter to return? Perhaps. After all, the crow's nest had been the first place he had -ever- seen the boy. The highest point of the ship, where he would crow and laugh. The captain blinked slowly, tried to put the thought out of his mind and focus on the task at hand. Tonight would probably be a night just like the last however-many. Lonely and still with nothing but the stars and the wind. He should have been used to it by now.
He wasn't anymore.
Ones that no longer existed. And hence, the insomnia had taken hold again. It was just sunset now, the sky exploded in deep red and oranges, something that would have been beautiful to the casual observer-- something that looked horribly macabre to Jas Hook. The colour of blood and fire. Pale blue eyes gazed listlessly towards the horizon and the setting light before pulling around again.
He was waiting for something, he thought idly, hook scraping splinters and shavings onto the planks he sat on. What, he wasn't sure. For Peter to return? Perhaps. After all, the crow's nest had been the first place he had -ever- seen the boy. The highest point of the ship, where he would crow and laugh. The captain blinked slowly, tried to put the thought out of his mind and focus on the task at hand. Tonight would probably be a night just like the last however-many. Lonely and still with nothing but the stars and the wind. He should have been used to it by now.
He wasn't anymore.
It was no small feat, for Peter have finally, returned to the deck of the Jolly Roger. The stubborness of youth perhaps, but like most things, he chose not to think on it. The knot had been in his stomach, his chest, since the last time he'd spoken to the captain, lodged deep and heavy and getting steadily larger and he blamed Hook for it all. Distance was better at first. Going back to the room he'd stayed in with Wendy, days on end spent hovering irritably- not much fun at all and then poor Tink trying her hardest to lift his spirits. It wasn't working. Nothing was working which just made him frustrated and twisted that knot up even worse and Peter still just couldn't understand, couldn't make it all make sense.
It wasn't right to want to leave Neverland, it wasn't right and more than that it wasn't fair. He'd won. He'd beaten Jas Hook and won the battle to end all battles and now even in the city, even without his lost boys and Wendy everything was finally alright. It was finally just the way he wanted it.
And now Hook wanted to leave.
Not just leave, but sail out of Neverland with his crew and his ship and to just...let him go. He'd been so angry he could barely stand it, but in time that familiar spark, the burning in his blood cooled, leaving behind only the weight that smouldered even now in his chest. It was a feeling of some sort, that much was certain, and yet even after so much time spent learning names for these feelings, now, what did it matter at all?
It was something dark, that much he was sure of, and ulimately, it was that slow spreading dark that pushed him to seek the man out. No, Peter didn't understand it, but now...he couldn't possibly hope to keep the captain and the rest of the pirates in Neverland against their will. A heavy divide between more selfish desires, and his ever present need to do the noble thing. He'd landed quietly enough, though now out of habit than any fear of being discovered. The past few times Peter had flitted about the ship at this hour, he'd been unable to find the man. Not in bed anyway, and not walking about in deck. Green eyes were dark, sweeping over his surroundings. He doubted Hook would leave the ship, which left no place else save-- his chin lifted, gaze landing up high in the rigging. The crow's nest.
Likely unbeknowst to Peter- or more like he wouldn't let himself believe it- the same sinking, rock-heavy feeling had taken up residence in Jas' chest. But for him it was a familiar feeling, that brutal sadness that had followed him, however silently, for most of his life. That unsettling melancholy that lingered in the forgetmenot of his eyes- one that had almost, almost disappeared at one point. Not that Hook would have ever noticed. This man could never forget a thing, no, but that didn't mean he couldn't put things away in carefully labelled folders. Out of sight, out of mind, and all that.
But the feeling this time was thicker somehow. Jas had a feeling it was because no matter what he could possibly say, Pan would not believe him. Wouldn't believe he was different, that he would come back-- that he bloody well -needed- the boy to survive. It had been that wild child that made him put down the gun in the first place. That one boy to make him still, to give him reason, for the search to end.
They would leave Neverland, yes. Jas didn't want to. He had spent his whole life searching for Neverland- for Peter Pan- why for the love of Hades would he want to leave? It was the crew. The crew wanted to leave, and Jas Hook knew better than any what his crew was capable of when pushed the right way. To tell the truth- they hadn't really crossed his mind since being in The City- but leave it to Peter to throw him for a loop. The boy always had.
Jas sighed mutely, a rise and fall of his chest, and continued to carve, entirely unaware that Peter was nearby. After all, he could constantly sense the lad- but he could never tell how near or far he was.
But the feeling this time was thicker somehow. Jas had a feeling it was because no matter what he could possibly say, Pan would not believe him. Wouldn't believe he was different, that he would come back-- that he bloody well -needed- the boy to survive. It had been that wild child that made him put down the gun in the first place. That one boy to make him still, to give him reason, for the search to end.
They would leave Neverland, yes. Jas didn't want to. He had spent his whole life searching for Neverland- for Peter Pan- why for the love of Hades would he want to leave? It was the crew. The crew wanted to leave, and Jas Hook knew better than any what his crew was capable of when pushed the right way. To tell the truth- they hadn't really crossed his mind since being in The City- but leave it to Peter to throw him for a loop. The boy always had.
Jas sighed mutely, a rise and fall of his chest, and continued to carve, entirely unaware that Peter was nearby. After all, he could constantly sense the lad- but he could never tell how near or far he was.
A would-be sigh made it's way to his mouth, but died on his lips. Peter was hesitating. Were he less a boy and more a man, he might have been pacing, but as it were, he stood still, hands limp at his sides as he watched the crow's nest. If he listened hard enough he could hear a soft scratching, a scraping of some kind, but more than that, it was proof that he was right, that Hook was just a little ways above his head. Peter swallowed. It was what he'd come there for, wasn't it? He'd sought him out, and combed the ship and now he found him and yet Peter was still....just standing there.
The weight shifted. Seeing him, would be nothing more than one more step towards a ending he didn't even want. Just like Wendy. What had happened, to make everyone want to leave Neverland?
Oh the captain had tried to explain, but it was nothing he hadn't heard already. That he would come back, that he wouldn't forget, that he didn't truly want to leave but that he had to. None of it really meant anything though because nobody remembered Neverland. It just didn't happen. Part of the magic of the island to make everything the sweetest of dreams, and nothing more. Besides, once the pirates were gone, Peter himself would forget as well, and that would be that. Dark eyes shut tight, as though steading himself, before rising into the air- effortless and featherlight, gliding silently to the landing and peering over the edge. Just enough to see dark curls and the faintest hint of movement, slow and methodical. Fingertips slid along the edge as he rose further, stopping at last to let feet light on the wood- soundless, and leaning forward a fraction, curious as to the cause of the noise.
It was a rose- Jas loved flowers- a wooden rose that he plucked at, intricately designed- which was a surprise. The hook he wore looked anything but delicate, and so the fact that he could twist it just so and shape each petal, each vein in the leaves. His hook was a marvelous thing, in fact, Jas wasn't all that bitter about it anymore. Yes, he preached loudly to his crew about it, about the great suffering he had because of it. But it was almost poetically ironic that he should take on the characteristics of his namesake. But this hook could easy rip and tear just as soon as brush hair off of someone's neck.
And speaking of, he felt the brush of breath against his hair- senses almost hyper turned in the night, with the lack of sleep. He paused just a fraction of a moment, the slightest turn of his chin towards the golden boy. But forgetmenots didn't actually flick to land on the boy. The incline of his head was just enough to acknowledge Peter, and Jas had to close his eyes against the relief that trickled between his bones. Maybe Pan wouldn't stay, but the fact that he was here- it meant something, didn't it?
Again to the task at hand, and some tension eased from his shoulders as the steady carving continued.
It was the rose he'd looked at first. Each delicate curve, slope of the stem, as though it were a flower truly in bloom. The painstaking detail that Hook had always poured into his ventures was something Peter himself had always been facinated by. As a general rule, the boy was the type to act first, and ask questions later; dependant on instinct and responding instinctively- and the pirate himself was just the opposite. While it was something even in the early days, he couldn't quite fathom, he had never found the extensive planning anything less than intriguing.
: As such, it was that same studious, quiet observation that he hovered in, following the press of metal against wood right up until the moment it paused. It was then that Peter's gaze drifted to the man, barely a nod- yet more than enough to have his chest tight again- and then continuing his task. A silent acknowledgement and the boy nodded once, climbing down languidly, to crouch inside the crow's nest. Far enough that they weren't touching, but more than able to get lost in the other's presence. The subtle softening of the captain's shoulders had been reassuring enough, but still... He didn't know where to start. He'd come all this way and pushed this far simply to be in his company and now, mere inches from him, the boy had no words to say. Knees tucked to his chest, arms hugging his legs as Peter's head canted a fraction, voice little more than a whisper. "It is beautiful."
He spoke and something in his chest fractured, enough to force the tightness in his shoulders away. Just the boy being there had been soothing to the jangle of his nerves, but his voice- amazing how such a simple thing could hold such sway over him. Jas said nothing in response. He knew it was a lovely rose. He made it that way on purpose.
A twist of his wrist and he shaved off the the last edge of the stem, smoothing it out, before turning it over and with a subtle twitch of his hook carved three letters into the bottom side of one of the petals. J.M.H. A cant of his head and he squinted at his masterpiece. In truth, he had been working on this particular rose for a few nights now. He hadn't been sure what he was going to do with it until now.
Forgetmenots finally lifted, sharp and sad all at the same time to Peter- and held the rose up between forefinger and thumb. "It is yours."
When had Jas Hook done anything that ever made any sense? Even when he'd first gotten to Neverland, he just did everything backwards, and brows creased as they looked at the gift. It wasn't that he wasn't used to be given gifts, or even that he was used to recieving them- simply that it was strange under all circumstances. This one especially so. Tension hung heavy in the air, almost tangible, the way Peter could feel it clinging to his skin, and his head shook slow in an attempt to pull it loose. It already felt like things were pulling apart and no matter what either of them did, it wouldn't stop. Peter- had never liked not being the one in charge, especially of things that felt so big.
Lips pursed, hesitating as they flickered from the carving, to impossible blue and when he spoke at last, his voice was muted and soft. Nothing of their old rivalry. Their old spark. "But I have nothing for you in return."
Blue eyes never wavered once from Peter's face, even as the boy fought inwardly. It was like watching colours dance across his face, starlight and moonlight casting shadows in the sunshine of his skin. Everything he saw trip over his expression was a mirror of what was happening in his own chest. It did feel too much like endings for Jas' comfort-- but at the same time, Jas Hook- even James Matthew- had never been one to give up on anything. Never been one to break a promise.
And it was sweet, how Peter wanted to give something back. Sweet, because there was no way Jas could ever tell him, show him everything he had already given without letting go of a thing. When he spoke, his voice was equally soft, just this side of pleading. "...Take it."
Green eyes flickered once more, dark-light-dark, as slender fingers reached out to wrap ever so carefully around the stem, drawing the gift close and cradling it in his hands- as though it were truly the delicate blossom it was moulded to be. Shoulders softened then, posture relaxing as legs slid away, spread out haphazardly across the small space. It was turning out just the way he'd expected really, and whether they said the words or not, Peter was not foolish enough not to recognize a parting gift.
It was then his head fell back, blond curls brushed away from his face and flower held in his lap, as the boy watched the stars. Something safe to focus on as he let familiarity settle in, adjusting to having the pirate so close. "Why are you up here?"
Jas hand fell, lifeless, to his lap as soon as it had nothing left to do. The flower gone and nothing to hold on to, his fingers curled loosely, palm up, on his knee.. This was familiar, yes. Familiar and still terribly painful- which wasn't so unusual. Something of their dynamic had always been tragic and cruel- so why should this be any different?
His eyes didn't leave Peter's face, despite the fact the boy and reclined to direct his gaze to the heavens. Jas had stared at these unfamiliar stars for so long already- he would, quite frankly, rather watch them reflect in green eyes. Their days were numbered, now, and if Jas had his way- he would spend every last minute memorizing everything about Peter. Which was almost ridiculous- in ways, he knew Peter better than he knew himself.
"I don't know." He replied simply, softly.
Stars, had always been a curious thing for him. As familiar as neighbors to any ordinary boy, signs and signals, a map he'd long since memorized, the only way to get back home. And then this city had happened, and he'd willingly given that map up- only to have need of it again. It was one thing, for Hook to ask to leave Neverland, it was another for the pair of them to get back to Neverland to begin with. It would be a lie, for Peter to deny that part of him wasn't genuinely delighted that he couldn't recall the way- but be that as it may, the knowledge that the man wished to leave at all...was sobering.
His chin dropped, distractedly turning from the sky, to the pirate sitting so painfully near. It was a quiet sort of comfort, if not sad, but Peter was in no mood to start this fight again. There were only so many times he could rail against it, argue and shout and demand that the captain not leave, but each fight ended the same way, the both wound up exhausted.
Peter leaned heavily against the wood at his back, simply watching the other man. True they both had a certain degree of obsession for eachother, a certain amount of time spent in dillgent study, memorization of the other, but never before could the boy recall simply sitting down to watch. Hair black as pitch and eyes that still caught starlight, and even now, the boy could still see glimpses of James in the captain's face. It wasn't the first time he'd had the thought, but it made that knot shift nonetheless, and sitting in unmasked observation, Peter's brows creased once more. Who exactly was it he was looking at?
For a long time Jas had been completely convinced James Matthew was dead. Damaged in the fire of Eton and beaten out of him by long hard years on the ocean. Funny how he hadn't realized the game of Neverland had been, in part, James Matthew. Funny how Peter could bring him out so easily now. Hook was having trouble distinguishing who was supposed to be who. There used to be a clear distinction between James and Jas- now he wasn't so sure.
He could see the confusion on Peter's face, but he wasn't sure what it was, how to fix it, or anything. So he stayed still, forgetmenots on his eyes, watching Peter watching him- silent.
The breath hovered on his mouth, heavy on soft lips and Peter blinked once, an attempt to narrow his focus. Lines that had been so clearly defined since the beginning of...everything, lines drawn and sides chosen back in Neverland- and all of it started to slide when they came to the city. Edges that ran together, and yet so much time already spent with it, that the blending had become familiar, comfortable if nothing else. Slowly, ever so slowly, Peter crouched forward, half crawling half sliding to get closer, nearly in the man's lap as he searched those eyes.
In truth, the boy had no idea what he was looking for, only that it was so terribly important and that he was so very very close to finding it. Peter didn't reach out to make contact, but hovered precariously close with brows creased and eyes dark, swallowing the lump in the back of his throat. Everything just felt so heavy, a single word thick on his tongue- and that same breath still lingered on his mouth as lips parted, hesitant and uncertain. This was the beginning of something so much larger than anything ever before.
A strange thing about Jas-- before he came to Neverland, he had been much like Peter. And in ways, he still was. Stubborn, resilient, a lost boy of sorts (not that he ever recognized it). But perhaps the most obvious- was touch. How often Pan had preached that he 'mustn't be touched', and how curious was it that James had been the same way? He had to be the one to initiate it, and even then only a select few were allowed close enough. Even now, with his crew, the only touching he tended to hand out was violent.
But then there was Peter Pan- and he would just as soon hold his hook to the boy's throat as tuck his hair back behind his ear. And that wasn't even because of the City. The island had tried to make him forget, but Jas could still remember mermaids and a nasty bite and finding Peter half-dead on the shore. He could still recall the soft of his hair when Pan had finally healed and flew off to resume their game.
Those green eyes were intense, and though Jas could feel an odd sense of calm pooling in his stomach- he didn't look away. Something was happening here- something important. He didn't look away, only canted his head just slightly.
t was happening again, the lines running together. Where exactly did James the boy end, and Hook the man begin? If they faught, it was easier to tell, easier to see his old nemesis, and yet every once in awhile, those same eyes would light up or a soft smile would be at the edge of his mouth, and Peter would swear he had his friend back. Or not a friend? A companion, and then the captain as a counterpart- complicated again, the way those lines ran together and for so long now, he hadn't known what to call him.
Surely not the fearsome pirate king. But not the schoolboy that ran away with him. Which left him with...just one name. That same word that had been pressed to his mouth for so long now. Something he couldn't manage to say but mouthed each night, trying to fathom the weight, the meaning, make it into something familiar and eve after trying so hard, it still was no easier. And now he was expected to say goodbye to a man he hadn't managed to name? Almost timid, never one to back down from a challenge but wavering no less on unsteady ground. His chest was so unbearably tight and Peter finally spoke, voice little more than the fragilest of whispers. "Jas"
A strange thing about Jas-- before he came to Neverland, he had been much like Peter. And in ways, he still was. Stubborn, resilient, a lost boy of sorts (not that he ever recognized it). But perhaps the most obvious- was touch. How often Pan had preached that he 'mustn't be touched', and how curious was it that James had been the same way? He had to be the one to initiate it, and even then only a select few were allowed close enough. Even now, with his crew, the only touching he tended to hand out was violent.
But then there was Peter Pan- and he would just as soon hold his hook to the boy's throat as tuck his hair back behind his ear. And that wasn't even because of the City. The island had tried to make him forget, but Jas could still remember mermaids and a nasty bite and finding Peter half-dead on the shore. He could still recall the soft of his hair when Pan had finally healed and flew off to resume their game.
Those green eyes were intense, and though Jas could feel an odd sense of calm pooling in his stomach- he didn't look away. Something was happening here- something important. He didn't look away, only canted his head just slightly.
He was oblivious to the intensity, truth be told, if only because it was so rare for Peter to find himself so- caught. It was far easier to flit from one thing to another and avoid any further study, because there was too much to see and too much to do- but it didn't quite work that way anymore. For whatever reason, it wasn't so simple now. One hand lifted, cautiously reaching to touch the face mere inches from his own, pausing just shy of truly touching, fingertips just shy of soft skin. Memory had never been reliable, and while being in the city did nothing to fix the problem, it offered instead far more intricate details. Instead of an absence of faces, there were too many that came to mind, all faint recollections that were no easier to grasp than an attempt to catch smoke. Blue eyes for example- had his mother had them? He couldn't be sure, but Wendy's eyes were blue, so were James', and so were Hook's- and here he was with Hook, and yet...who's eyes were they?
t was happening again, the lines running together. Where exactly did James the boy end, and Hook the man begin? If they faught, it was easier to tell, easier to see his old nemesis, and yet every once in awhile, those same eyes would light up or a soft smile would be at the edge of his mouth, and Peter would swear he had his friend back. Or not a friend? A companion, and then the captain as a counterpart- complicated again, the way those lines ran together and for so long now, he hadn't known what to call him.
Surely not the fearsome pirate king. But not the schoolboy that ran away with him. Which left him with...just one name. That same word that had been pressed to his mouth for so long now. Something he couldn't manage to say but mouthed each night, trying to fathom the weight, the meaning, make it into something familiar and eve after trying so hard, it still was no easier. And now he was expected to say goodbye to a man he hadn't managed to name? Almost timid, never one to back down from a challenge but wavering no less on unsteady ground. His chest was so unbearably tight and Peter finally spoke, voice little more than the fragilest of whispers. "Jas"
With Peter so close, Jas didn't have to look him in the eye. Instead, forget-me-nots slid across the curve of his cheek, his jaw, followed down his arm to his fingers hovering so precariously close to his face. Soft gold skin- Jas couldn't help but constantly equate Peter to sunlight, and even now- with the stars out and the sky the colour of ink- he was still so bright.
Jas was almost entirely distracted by everything else-- and the Peter said his name.
It was almost involuntary, forget-me-nots snapping around like they'd been drawn by the crack of a gunshot to meet with green once again. The pirate went very still and just- stared.
Jas was almost entirely distracted by everything else-- and the Peter said his name.
It was almost involuntary, forget-me-nots snapping around like they'd been drawn by the crack of a gunshot to meet with green once again. The pirate went very still and just- stared.
He'd felt those eyes on him, more than anything else and like all things had been hyperaware of each sweeping gaze. They may as well have been hands, smooth and distracting right up until he'd finally managed to speak. Peter hadn't known what to expect of it, if the admission would mean anything at all to the captain, in even a fraction of the way it shook him. It was so much more than a word- in some instinctive way, like so much else he couldn't explain but still understood. It wasn't a name, it was a confession. Pieces were shifting once more, realigning to make more clear what he should have known the whole while. Not just James, and not just Hook- there had to be some sort of middle ground, a place where those two parts could touch and it would still be...alright.
Peter was almost startled at how quickly those eyes found him, hand jerking reflexively back, as though he might have hurt the pirate and that breath caught hard in his throat. Frozen and still.
He didn't do anything.
Why wasn't he doing anything? Jas was still, caught, and at first his brow furrowed a little when Peter-- did nothing. He should have been doing something. Right? Or maybe it was more... Jas needed him to be doing something. He waited- waited and when Peter still said nothing, the pirate swallowed against how dry his mouth had suddenly gone.
"--Say it again," He finally whispered, voice harsh and nearly inaudible, forget-me-nots locked to his face.
Something broke the moment the pirate growled those words. Peter didn't know, didn't know what he was supposed to do up until that moment and then in a crash, it washed through. "Jas-" It was almost a gasp, as though that name had been waiting forever on his mouth, and eyes fell closed at the way weight moved. "Jas." Firmer now, something old and familiar even in it's strangeness and the breath of his name could all but slide over the man's skin. Close but not touching- intense, focused green locking on blue as if to say he might never escape now. Caught in this- whatever it was.
He was still the first time Peter repeated it- but the second was when everything started to shift. The pirate's breath caught, lodged in his chest, and it was like every fibre of his being was reaching out, leaning towards Peter and his voice. His jaw eased, mouth softening and eyes intense. He couldn't have looked away if he tried. And it was like the first time he heard Peter laugh, a siren call almost- but something deeper than that. Something low behind his naval that pulled each time his name was said.
"Jas." It was like a light had gone on, all the pieces suddenly clicked into place and Peter couldn't hope to explain the way everything moved inside him. Something was happening, like a tidal wave, infinitely strong and steadily rising, almost like Wendy's thimble. He had always known on an instictive level, how influence he had on Neverland and all things in it- but there were only rare moments that the boy was acutely aware of it. Razored precision and the way it made his body light- to realign the stars. Part of him knew, this was something equally powerful, and the realization was warm in his chest, dark. "Jas." Nearly a command, demanding full attention with voice low and intimate, nearly speaking against the other's mouth.
Forget-me-nots fluttered, just a little, as if they wanted to close off from this- focus inward to the trickle of liquid warmth that slipped down his spine, between his ribs, curled in his chest and pooled somewhere behind is diapraghm. And the more he said it, the further it spread, like a tingle of power reaching out through his limbs. His breath shuddered, and deleriously his mind wandered briefly- a book on the occult and invocation, calling on power and channelling it--
But the thought was passed aside by Peter's voice. The boy had his full attention, had all of him-- and the soft moan that lifted from his chest was entirely involuntary, reflexive response to the heat holding his body captive.
It was warm. That seemed to be the only true feeling he could discern from the whole mess, that it was so very warm. Eyes fell to half mast as uncertainty had given way to the familiar. Surely this had happened before, it must have, to be so instinctive, retracing steps he'd almost forgotten. "Jas." And somehow, his name said so much more. Not simply an acknowledgement of who was who, of acceptance, or even seeking attention. It was magic. Like all the other intiricate workings of Neverland, this was a reclaiming, and Peter leaned ever closer, a candle searching for a spark and his voice a soft croon, praise. "Jas"
Power was cresting in his body, he could feel it seize his body, a pulse that was straining to release. His breathing quickened, eyes half-mast and focused so intently to Peter's. Everything was narrowed down to this one moment, this one space of time, there was nothing but this. And it was true- this had to have happened before. An odd sense of de ja vu, though Jas knew it had never occurred to he, himself. Mouth slack, and that soft voice, resonating in his bones-
He groaned, low, deep from his chest, and the blue of his eyes flickered, bright shadow, a glitter of red in them, not the warning he was ready to kill-- something more powerful. His hand flexed- he was close, but he needed the trigger- there was a trigger that was missing--
Though he had always been alarmingly aware of the changes in Jas Hook, this sudden intimacy made that thread so much more intense. The way his mouth softened, eyes flickered, chest tightened- yes, that was it, and to whatever end they had been straining, the boy could feel it, feather-light on the nape of his neck. Peter's hand reached out, fingers lighting on the scrawl of one particular scar over the man's forearm as eyes shut, and his mouth closed the distance between them, a final summons against the captain's lips, breathy and firm- "Jas."
Eyes widened and even before Peter closed the distance, something around them was shifting, stirring hair and clothing, kissing the back of Peter's neck- and then petal soft lips, his name, those fingers across the single word carved into his arm. His body seized, eyes finally snapping shut and his jaw fell open, hand tightening into a fist. First an audible gasp, and then his red-blue eyes were on Peter's face again, a whisper, then louder-
"Neverland. Neverland. Neverland-" And the final time, it was like he was calling the very place down on them. An explosion of power, rushing passed them like the roar of a waterfall. Black curls lashed out like snakes, his fist curling into Peter's hip. The sails filled with an audible snap, the flag just above their heads crackling as if blown bye a gale. And it didn't stop. It grew, faster, louder- and Jas was shaking, watching green eyes, mouth open in a silent cry as this- whatever it was- flashed around them like lightening--
And then nothing. Pure silence on the ocean, nothing but a ripple in the water and moonlight on the waves. The Jolly Roger, Peter Pan and Captain Jas. Hook had vanished.