Author's Notes: I know, I know.

But I had to.

The writing's not great and there's basically no point at all but … the end of the movie made me sad. Enjoy!


Purely to satisfy

My fluffy PeterWendy muses. :-)

All at once, without meaning to, Peter Pan grew up.

He'd thought that it might be a bit more climactic. He'd been expecting some sort of loud farewell from Neverland; but instead all he got was ice and snow. The ocean frosted over and the mermaid's huddled in their lagoon, protected by the island and condemned by it. Tiger Lily saved him one last smile; but she was too busy hunting and running and playing, and Peter didn't have the heart for a proper goodbye.

Tink hugged his nose and stuck her tongue out. "Always believe, Peter," she whispered to him, and then gave him a final dusting.

Peter didn't look back as he left his star, for the last time. Neverland wouldn't have him now; he didn't want to see it frozen and dead with winter. The island needed a new Peter Pan—needed a new little boy who wouldn't grow up.

Wendy's window hung open. It always did.

"Wendy," he whispered, shaking her awake (gently; Wendy'd boxed his ears the last time he'd been too rough). "I'm here."

She opened her eyes blearily, blinking up at him in confusion. "But Peter, I already told you a story. You'll have to wait for the next one."

"No," he said loudly, and she shushed him, her eyes sliding over to the sleeping forms of Michael and John and the formerly Lost Boys. "I mean…I'm here, here."

Wendy sat up, eying him carefully. But he could see the hint of a smile on her lips. "Oh, Peter," she murmured excitedly, "You have grown up, haven't you?"

And he smiled back at her, his Wendy, as he told her, "I didn't mean to, only you made me."

"I did?"

He took her hand in his, and the last of Neverland's dirt crumbled onto her bed. "Yes; you see, I didn't want to end up like Hook said. I didn't want to find your window barred and—and a husband lying in your bed."

Wendy chuckled, placing her hand on his cheek. "Peter, I could never bar your window," she told him, and then he gave her back the thimble he'd been keeping, ever since that terrible night on Hook's boat.

"No, no," she whispered, pressing the thimble to his lips with finality. "You keep it. For now."